I went to St. Petersburg in November of 2002 with my husband and stumbled upon a little coffee place with a slow-turning dasher massaging a smooth, dark, tar-looking substance. The counter girl channeled the velvety, hot chocolate soup into demitasse cups and handed us a tiny spoon. We weren't sure what to do next and then we saw others skimming off a taste of the mixture, a spoonful at a time. Now, without all the hard-to-get visas, borscht, and cold weather, you can enjoy it too.
A link to %this page% was e-mailed