Churros take me back to Mexico. When I take the first bite of the warm, crispy, deep fried delicacy, I imagine my grandmother in her apron rolling dough in the kitchen. I imagine the market outside her house and her garden with the plump peaches and tangy lemons. I imagine the smell of the streets and mango smoothies.
I have grown up with my grandmother’s churros so I can be picky about them. The closest I can get to churros in Washington D.C is dipping french fries into a milkshake at the Silver Diner.
My favorite part about churros is dipping them into dark hot chocolate. Some people like butterscotch, caramel, of fruit sauce. I am more of a classic girl, I like my churros thoroughly sugared and surrounding a steaming cup of hot cocoa.
I am still trying to find a good churro in D.C (does anyone have any suggestions), otherwise I will have to find my grandmothers recipe. It won’t ever be the same because my grandmother cooks with her soul. I know when she’s sad, angry, and happy within taking a bite of her food. Food is special that way.
The search for the best churro continues!