Martha Stewart, eh? I’ve heard of you. You’re an American cooking woman who did a naughty thing with insider trading or something. Does that make your recipes better than your normal non-insider-trading recipe writers? Let’s see what your churros are like and find out!
Now, churros – what are they? Donkeys. They are Spanish donkeys. As in the phrase “Mi churro es muy guapo”, which of course means “My donkey is very handsome.”
How on earth does one prepare a Spanish donkey?
Oh. I’m reliably informed that “burros” are in fact donkeys, and “churros” are a bit like donuts. So it is in fact my burro that is astoundingly guapo, not my churro. That’s disappointing. I was hoping to tie this in with Christmas somehow, with the donkey and everything. Oh well, here we go.
I read through the recipe before starting this time, and decided that I should actually buy some vegetable oil. It’s needed for deep frying these babies, so I imagine it would be easier than using butter…
So, chuck a cup of water, a cup of butter, some salt, and sugar into a pan. Make it boil, and when it’s boiling, turn the heat down.
Sift in some flour. YES. SIFT. This time I remembered to sift it! One-nil to me, Martha!
Stir it for a minute, and lob it in a mixing bowl while it’s still steaming. Next, attach the paddle to your electric mixer. Shock revelation: I actually have a paddle. Who knew?
Gently wallop it around with the paddle, and add not one, not two, but three large eggs. This is where we have to disagree, Martha, as my eggs are decidedly medium, so three medium eggs it will be. Two-nil. This will come back to haunt us, but not in the way you might think.
Next, put the mixture in a pastry bag fitted with a open-star tip. I do not own an open-star tip, because I do not own a pastry bag. This has suddenly taken a turn for the worse…
No worries – we’ll use a food bag and snip the corner off. Three-nil. They won’t have ridges like real churros, but they should taste the same.
I heated the oil and held the plastic bag of gloop over the pan, and squeezed…and it just hung there. Oh yeah, you’re meant to snip it of. Let’s just pinch it off instead. PLOP. Nice.
Churro number 9 was the evil one. That’s the one that splashed and burned my hand. I’ll eat you slowly, churro number 9. Very, very, slowly. However, three-one.
Didn’t Lou Bega do a song about that? Churro number 9?
Three batches later, and we’re done. The churros were removed with a slotted spoon, drained, and rolled in icing sugar.
And then they were eaten.
Taste test – Caleb: “It tastes like that egg nog you made that went lumpy.”
Caleb: “I mean it’s nice, but that egg nog wasn’t so good…”
Taste test – Kat (actual American, experience of real churros) : “Nice…but too eggy.”
Well, well, well, Martha Stewart. Three large eggs, you say? And I use three medium eggs, and it’s still too eggy. What do you have to say for yourself now? Maybe “two large eggs”? Or perhaps, “chickens are smaller in the USA”? Egg on your face, dear, not in the
burros churros. That’s four.
No matter! They tasted like donuts that you’d get from a stall somewhere. Delicious. I would make them again, but as I burned my hand when churro number 9 made a splash as it jumped in the oil, I’m not doing it on principle. Flamin’ donkeys.
Wait, got it. Mambo Number 5, not Churro Number 9.
TL;DR: Not actually donkeys, more like donuts. Mind the oil. Why do I feel like decorating now? Final score: Four-one to me.