This week I decided to bring all the fun of the fair into my kitchen and make churros. Churros are a dough enriched with butter and eggs, that are piped into lengths and fried in very hot oil until crisps and light. There’s nothing quite like the smell of sweet, hot dough, frying. In the days when I used to churn out hundred of doughnuts overnight in our small kitchen for events, I’d crawl to bed in the small hours of the morning, wearing the distinctive perfume of that pastry.
There are different types of fried dough all over the world – bombolini, beignets, gulab juman, yum yums, funnel cakes – all seeking to satisfy that universal craving for hot, fried dough.
Churros are found predominantly in Mexico and Spain, but also Portugal, the Philippines and Latin America, and sit in the sweet spot between doughnuts and choux pastry: more of a batter than a dough really, and they have distinctive striations achieved by using a star nozzle, that create more surface area to fry and crisp. Traditionally they are rolled in cinnamon sugar and then dunked into thick hot chocolate or, here, a glossy cinnamon-spiked dark chocolate sauce.
But churros have some distinct advantages over other doughnut varieties. Unlike doughnut dough, churro batter doesn’t need proving, it’s ready as soon as you’ve mixed it together. And unlike choux pastry, it is a forgiving dough, that doesn’t require you to judge the texture or add the egg in tiny increments. And churros take a matter of moments to cook. Perhaps unsurprisingly for a dough favoured by street sellers and fair food stalls, it is easy to handle, and quick to produce – and, crucially, completely compulsive. I defy you to eat just one. Or two.
Taking oil to a high temperature carries risks. As a child of the 90’s, brought up on a diet of chip pan fire safety videos, I used to dread deep frying: I was convinced that it would spit and splash at me, that I wouldn’t be in control. But the rules are simple, really: don’t leave oil while it’s on the heat, don’t fill the pan too full, and don’t be cavalier. Keep an eye on your oil temperature: it will fluctuate as you add the cold dough, and you may need to adjust it before your next batch. Too hot and the outside will brown too quickly, while the inside remains raw; too cold, and the dough will absorb too much oil as it cooks, and feel greasy. And when you drop something into the oil (or here, snip the end of the batter to release the dough), do so as close to the surface of the oil as possible. It feels counterintuitive to get your hands close to the oil, but it drastically reduces the possibility of splashing. Dipping the tips of your scissors in the hot oil will make it easier to snip the dough, stopping it stretching and distending, giving blunt ends to your churros.
Makes: 12 churros
Takes: 20 minutes
Bakes: 10 minutes
For the churros
90g butter
240ml water
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon granulated or caster sugar
125g plain flour
2 eggs
2 litres vegetable oil, for frying
For the cinnamon sugar
100g caster sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
For the chocolate sauce
150g double cream
100g dark chocolate, roughly chopped
¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon fine salt
This week I decided to bring all the fun of the fair into my kitchen and make churros. Churros are a dough enriched with butter and eggs, that are piped into lengths and fried in very hot oil until crisps and light. There’s nothing quite like the smell of sweet, hot dough, frying. In the days when I used to churn out hundred of doughnuts overnight in our small kitchen for events, I’d crawl to bed in the small hours of the morning, wearing the distinctive perfume of that pastry.
There are different types of fried dough all over the world – bombolini, beignets, gulab juman, yum yums, funnel cakes – all seeking to satisfy that universal craving for hot, fried dough.
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Olivia Potts writes Spectator Life's The Vintage Chef column. A chef and food writer, she was winner of the Fortnum and Mason's debut food book award in 2020 for her memoir A Half Baked Idea.
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