There are two kinds of people in this world: those who sleep in on Sundays and those who are woken up at dawn by their Abuelita to make legendary churros rellenos de crema pastelera con sprinkles. I was proudly part of the second group, though not by choice.
Once a month, I would pack my tiny suitcase (okay, it was actually just a backpack full of pajamas and my toothbrush) and head to Abuelita’s house for the ultimate sleepover. But this wasn’t just any sleepover—this was churro bootcamp, and my Abuelita was the drill sergeant (a very cute and loving one, but still).
The Sunday Morning Ritual
Like clockwork, at the crack of dawn, Abuelita would shake me awake. "¡Ándale Pao! Tenemos que hacer churros." she’d say, her voice way too cheerful for the hour. I’d grumble, stretch, and roll out of bed—because, let’s be honest, I could never say no to making our famous churros.
First things first: the uniform. Our matching pink aprons and chef hats were non-negotiable. They even had tiny hearts on the side because Abuelita believed that "todo sabe mejor cuando se hace con amor"—everything tastes better when made with love. (And, honestly? She wasn’t wrong.)
The Magic Behind the Churros
We’d gather all our ingredients and start our sacred cooking ritual.
Step 1: The Oil Test – Before anything else, we had to get the oil to the perfect temperature. This involved Abuelita throwing a tiny drop of dough into the pot and staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. If it sizzled just right, we were good to go.
Step 2: The Dough Dance – Abuelita mixed the ingredients for the churro masa while I took charge of the crema pastelera. (Yes, I was a filling prodigy at the age of ten.)
Step 3: Frying Frenzy – We piped the dough into the bubbling oil, and like magic, golden spirals of deliciousness appeared. Once crispy and perfect, we rolled them in our signature sugar-cinnamon-paprika mix. (The tiny kick of spice? Chef’s kiss)
Step 4: The Grand Finale – The churros cooled down, and then came my favorite part: filling them with velvety crema pastelera mixed with sprinkles. Not just a few sprinkles. Oh no, I unleashed the sprinkles. If my churro didn’t look like a unicorn exploded on it, I wasn’t doing it right.
The Best Part: The Feast
With our masterpiece complete, it was time to wake up the rest of the house—aka our very willing taste-testers. My siblings and Abuelito stumbled into the kitchen, still half-asleep, only to be instantly revived by the heavenly aroma of fried dough and cinnamon.
The adults sipped café de olla, that magical Mexican coffee infused with cinnamon and piloncillo, while we dunked our churros into steaming mugs of hot Chocolate Abuelita—the one and only rightful companion to a proper churro.
And just like that, our sleepy Sunday morning turned into a little moment of joy, laughter, and sugary perfection.
More Than Just Churros
Sure, those churros were the best I’ve ever had (and trust me, I’ve had a lot of churros), but the real magic wasn’t in the crispy dough, the creamy filling, or even the excessive sprinkles. It was in the time spent together, in the laughter, in the pink aprons, and in the sleepy but happy faces around the breakfast table.
Abuelita’s churros weren’t just breakfast—they were a tradition, a lesson in love, and a delicious reminder that the best moments in life always taste better when shared.
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