In Ronda we remembered the need for churros too late, on our last day. We went out looking for them "first thing", but "first thing" kind of ended up being almost not morning anymore, and when we stopped to ask some old old Spanish ladies where we could find some, they basically gave us directions to somewhere that was closed and then said "But hey what's wrong with you, why would you want churros in the afternoon anyway, you need to come back tomorrow morning".
Fair enough. I guess it's like ordering a cappuccino in Italy in the afternoon, people look at you like you have a hot dog hanging out of your nose. So we left Spain without our churros, I'll have to wait to find out what "the real thing" tastes like. Pictured above are the ones from the churros truck I knew existed in Groningen but had never tried. We located it this past Saturday "morning". Not bad, not bad, but you know me, I have a bit of a fetish for "real things".
This is an often-NSFW, mostly gluten-free kitchen notebook that also occasionally threatens to turn into something else and fails, thus remaining its same old cryptic and superficial self. These posts begin to fail to explain (start at the bottom).