Churros y chocolate

On a side street off the Plaza Mayor is Chocolatería San Ginés, a place that has been serving up little bits of perfection for over a century. Churros and chocolate are a unique Spanish treat.¹ For those of you familiar with the Mexican version, there are some key differences. Mexican churros are heavier, richer, shorter/thicker, and usually rolled in cinnamon sugar -- they're sweet enough that you can eat them on their own.

Spanish churros are lighter and crispier in texture (although they still have a chew to the center), and not very sweet in and of themselves, making them a perfect delivery vehicle for the chocolate sauce...which is like nothing you've ever had if you haven't been to Spain. I wish I knew exactly what alchemy they use to brew it so I could recreate it at home.² It looks a little like Hershey's Syrup, but the flavor is much softer and more complex. It's served warm, but it doesn't harden or congeal as it gets cooler.³ And although it is thick enough to coat a dipped churro in a rich, velvety-smooth sweet layer, you can also drink it straight from the cup without it being cloying or treacly. 

I'm treating the chocolate like the star of the show, and it is, but the chocolate needs the churro like Abbott needed Costello, like Holmes needed Watson, like James Brown needed the Famous Flames (that rhythm section!). The churros add texture -- both crispy and chewy -- a hint of salt and neutral to contrast the sweet, and the feeling that you're actually eating something and not just mainlining liquid sugar. Churros and chocolate are a traditional breakfast food in Spain, and I can see why, because they're terribly filling; a breakfast like this would certainly see me through to lunch. And for those of you still punching a clock, wouldn't starting off with this at home make your your day in the office a little more bearable than, say, a bowl of Cheerios?

Chocolatería San Ginés has been in business in its location near the Plaza Mayor since 1894. (I snuck downstairs to get this shot of the awesomely retro lower dining room). It's admittedly a little touristy; there are black and white pictures all over the walls of the celebrities who have eaten there...a little like Pink's Hot Dogs (for you Angelenos) or Katz' Deli (for the New Yorkers). But while some of the popularity may be hype (do the vapid influencers posting grinning TikTok videos from Pink's really know what the absolute "best" chili dog in LA is, or are they just parroting the other giggling members of their tribe?), San Ginés' churros are crispy and light and the chocolate is lush and delicious. Amy and I have made an admittedly low-sample-sized survey of churrererías in Spain and San Ginés is by far our favorite. If we come up with any new winners I'll post them here. 

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¹While the combination of churros and chocolate may be uniquely Spanish, let's acknowledge the cultural debt/appropriation from Mesoamerica. Chocolate is one of the many foods (along with potatoes, corn, tomatoes, and chile peppers, among others) that did not exist in Europe until the conquest of the Americas. The Olmecs, Maya and Aztecs had been cultivating chocolate for thousands of years before the Spanish arrived, although they consumed it as a savory/bitter drink with water and spices. The addition of sugar (which itself originated in Southeast Asia and only made its way to Europe via India and the Islamic world) to chocolate was a European innovation.↩︎

²A little white lie for atmosphere. I'd never try making something like this at home. First, even if I had the recipe, I imagine that it takes years of experience and probably some complicated rig of double-boilers, candy thermometers and the like to reproduce it perfectly; for the bargain price of €5.90 I can avoid the experimentation, have the real thing every time, and let someone else make a chocolate mess in their kitchen. And second, even if I could overcome the logistical hurdles, making it at home would take the joy away. A treat is only a treat if you get it every now and then -- and preferably serendipitously. An enchantment that one can repeat at will loses its magic and becomes a mundane, everyday thing.↩︎

³Another little white lie, or maybe an educated guess; I've never actually left the chocolate uneaten long enough to allow it to get cold. Or even lukewarm.↩︎