Hotel Chocolat Advent Calendar

話題沸騰中の Hotel Chocolat Advent Calendarについて、主要な情報を分かりやすく掲載しています。

My morning routine used to be coffee, grumble, stare at emails. Now it’s coffee, grumble, open the velvet drawer, and have a mini existential crisis over which chocolate to eat first. It’s a much better way to start the day.

It’s also the only advent calendar that makes you feel sophisticated when you eat chocolate before 8 a.m. You’re not just having a snack; you’re participating in a “curated tasting experience.” But let’s be real, you’re still eating chocolate in your pyjamas while the kettle boils.

I once brought mine to a friend’s house. Her husband looked at my calendar the way a dog looks at a steak. He said, “That’s not an advent calendar, that’s a chocolate filing cabinet.” He wasn’t wrong.

The Flavours That Break Your Brain

The beauty of the Hotel Chocolat calendar is that it doesn’t just give you milk, dark, and white. Oh no. You’ll find things like Pistachio & Honeycomb or Raspberry Truffle. One day you pull out a “Salted Caramel & Black Sesame” and you think, “Is this a prank?” Then you eat it and suddenly understand the meaning of life.

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There’s always that one day where the chocolate is so good you actually close your eyes. You know the one. It’s the day you get the “Giant Gianduja” slab. You stop mid-bite and just stare at the wall for a few seconds. Don’t worry, nobody judges you.

And then there’s the almond one. You know, the one that looks plain but tastes like a warm hug. It’s the underdog of the calendar. You eat it and think, “I should probably save some for later,” but you don’t. Later doesn’t exist with this calendar.

The Price Tag Panic (And Why You Just Pay It)

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the cost. A Hotel Chocolat Advent Calendar does not cost the same as a pint of milk. It costs more than a decent dinner out. I flinched when I saw the price online.

But then you do the maths. It’s like... 24 days of premium chocolate, a beautiful reusable box that you’ll keep on your shelf until 2035, and the smug feeling of having the best calendar in the office. Plus, you’re basically paying for therapy in chocolate form.

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My logic was simple: I could either buy this calendar, or I could buy 24 mediocre coffees. One gives you a caffeine buzz and a bitter aftertaste; the other gives you a 24-day dopamine hit and a velvet box for your earrings. The choice was clear.

The Emotional Rollercoaster of the Last Doors

Around day 20, a strange sadness creeps in. You start rationing the chocolate. You open the drawer slowly, savouring the moment. You think, “Only four more chocolates left? What have I done with my life?”

Then day 24 arrives. You open the big drawer at the bottom—the one that usually holds a giant chocolate bar or a full-sized truffle. You hold it up like a trophy. The calendar is finished, but you feel a strange sense of accomplishment. You didn’t just survive December; you thrived.

The box then sits empty on your sideboard for the rest of the month. You can’t throw it away. It’s a monument to your dedication. Plus, you might fill it with something next year, like earrings or more chocolate. Let’s be honest, it’ll probably be more chocolate.

So, if you’re on the fence about buying one next year, just do it. Your wallet will grumble, but your soul will thank you. And if anyone judges you for spending that much on chocolate, just slide them a piece of the “Giant Gianduja” slab. They’ll understand. They’ll nod.

中村 さくら

中村 さくら

マネー&キャリアエディター

エンタメ・カルチャー業界の深掘り取材を得意とし、現場のリアルな声をお伝えします。

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