Once upon a time, Toronto had a franchise called Churrisimo, which cranked out freshly made churros. I was only able to sample it once before it disappeared. I was also the only customer when I visited, which should have been a sign of things to come. Rumor also has it that in the summer, there is a cart that sells churros by the harbourfront. But no chocolate, and what are churros without chocolate?
I had my pre-birthday dinner at Cava, which was chosen primarily because it offers churros on the menu and I had counted on tapas-style dining to result in a light dinner so there would be room for dessert. There was miscalculation on the dinner ordering so we were stuffed by the time dessert rolled around. Nevertheless, I was persuaded that freshly made churros with superior chocolate at Cava would be a better experience than going for a walk around the block and returning to Xococava for dessert.
The churros were warm and fat, crisp on the outside, soft on the outside. Texture was very promising. The chef tried to dress them up by oversugaring and putting cinnamon in the dough. I like cinnamon. I love cinnamon buns. But, as with everything, there is a time and place for cinnamon and cinnamon dough churros are not for me. Dulce de leche - fantastic for alfajores, but again, drizzling dulce de leche on churros is unnecessary. It is possible to make desserts too fancy. But oh the chocolate dipping sauce. Scrumptious! The thickness of the churros was necessary to transport the weight of the chocolate. My only regret was at the end, when all of the churros were eaten, the remaining chocolate was too thick to be drunk. Recalling my childhood lesson not to waste food, I scooped out the remaining chocolate with a spoon, closed my eyes and let it drip down my throat. The acidity caught in my throat. This was chocolate best eaten with something to temper it, rather than on its own. More churros, please.
