Odd fact about me: once or twice a year, I am struck with a debilitating craving for churros con chocolate. (The same thing happens to me with raw oysters.) I get really picky about it: the churros must be perfectly crisp and the chocolate hot, thick and not too sweet.
When I was living in Singapore, I couldn’t find any churros that passed muster. After enduring this craving for two long years, I finally had the chance to travel to Spain and enjoy them there. I haven’t had much luck with churros in Amsterdam either, so I pounced upon the opportunity to have them on my last day in Granada.
I’m starting to think perfect churros only exist in Spain. Maybe, like Icelandic horses, genuine Spanish churros aren’t allowed to leave the country.
Expecting graceful little loops of dough, Marlon and I sat down at a churreria on the Plaza Bib-Rambla and ordered two servings with chocolate. Boy, these churros gave me the shock of my life. They were immense. Like two huge bunches of bananas!
They were so big that we started giggling in embarrassment when the plate was served. People actually turned to stare; I’m sure they thought we were complete pigs. And we were. We finished every last one of those churros, because they were perfect: golden, crisp, light and airy.
Don’t even get me started on the hot chocolate.
Goopy, rich, and perfect for dipping—the Spanish sure know how to make hot chocolate. One decadent cupful can almost make one forgive them for centuries of oppression. I kid, I kid.
This ends the week on a sweet note, but be sure to drop by on Sunday for this month’s installment of Let’s Do Brunch. Till then, have a great weekend!
