I wasn’t planning on making churros.
I was deep in my “lie on the couch in a hoodie and rewatch The Office” era, and then boom—craving hit like a truck.
Suddenly, all I wanted was a fresh, hot churro.
You know the kind. Crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, coated in cinnamon sugar, and preferably dipped in a cup of chocolate that’s 90% sugar and 10% regret. The kind you get at a fair, or when you’re drunk at Disneyland and pretending you didn’t just pay $8 for fried dough.
Anyway. I needed it.
I googled “churros recipe” like my life depended on it. And what followed was a 3-hour descent into flour, oil, sugar, and an actual, literal tear rolling down my cheek when I bit into the first one.
So yeah, let’s talk churros.
What Even Is a Churro?
Okay, churros are basically long, star-shaped fried dough sticks, usually made from a dough called choux pastry. But don’t let the French-sounding term scare you. If you can boil water and stir, you can make this dough. Promise.
Then you fry it and roll it in cinnamon sugar.
Then cry because you realize you’ve been sleeping on this recipe for years.
Fun fact: Churros are originally Spanish (though Portugal and Latin America and everyone else has kinda taken them in, and honestly? Same). Street vendors sell them fresh, piping hot, sometimes filled with dulce de leche or served with thick drinking chocolate.
Mine? Basic. But life-alteringly good.
My First Time Making Churros (It Was…A Lot)
Listen. I was in no shape to be making complicated desserts.
I’d just finished yelling at my cat for knocking over a plant. I was already stressed from seeing gas prices. And I’d just stubbed my toe on the kitchen table and declared the universe officially against me.
So obviously, I decided frying oil was the answer.
Did I have a candy thermometer?
Absolutely not.
Did I wing it based on vibes and TikTok memory?
You bet.
The dough came together weirdly fast. I tasted a bit before frying (don’t judge me), and it was just… butter, flour, eggs, and sadness.
But once that first churro hit the oil and puffed up and started to get golden and crunchy and beautiful—something in me healed.
The Actual Churros Recipe (Yes, Finally)
Okay okay. Here’s what I used, scribbled on a Post-it and stuck to my fridge with a cat magnet.
🟡 Ingredients
- 1 cup water
- 2 ½ tablespoons white sugar
- ½ teaspoon salt
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
frying:
- Neutral oil (canola, vegetable—whatever won’t start drama)
cinnamon sugar coat:
- ½ cup sugar
- 1–2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (taste as you go!)
dipping (optional, but like…not really optional):
- Melted chocolate or chocolate sauce, warmed
⚙️ Tools You’ll Want
- A piping bag with a star tip (or a Ziploc with a corner cut—no shame)
- A heavy-bottomed pot (for frying)
- Tongs or slotted spoon
- Paper towels (so many paper towels)
Let’s Cook These Glorious Sticks of Joy
Make the Dough
In a medium saucepan, combine the water, sugar, salt, and oil. Bring to a rolling boil—no chill here.
Once boiling, dump in the flour all at once and stir like your life depends on it. It’ll look like a mistake. It’s not. Keep going. Eventually, you’ll get a smooth-ish dough ball that looks like slightly shiny Play-Doh.
Let it cool a few minutes before you add it to your piping bag—unless you like third-degree burns.
Step 2: Heat the Oil
Fill a deep pan with about 2–3 inches of oil. Heat it to 350°F if you’re fancy. If not, drop a bit of dough in. If it bubbles and floats like it’s dancing? You’re good.
Pipe and Fry
Pipe 4–5 inch strips into the oil. Use scissors to snip off the dough (or your fingers if you’re living on the edge). Fry until golden brown, flipping once.
Don’t overcrowd the pan or they’ll turn into angry churro snakes.
Drain and Roll
Use tongs or a slotted spoon to transfer churros to a plate lined with paper towels.
Then—while they’re still hot—roll them around in the cinnamon sugar like you’re making magic.
Dip and Cry
Serve with chocolate sauce, coffee, or nothing at all. Just stand over your stove eating churros with your fingers. No one is judging you. I’m cheering you on.
Pro Tips from Someone Who Burned a Few
- If your dough is too runny, let it cool more before piping. It firms up.
- Don’t over-fry. They go from perfect to burnt-out has-beens fast.
- You can make them bite-sized, but you’ll end up eating 14 “bites” in under 5 minutes. Proceed with caution.
- If you’re storing them (lol, why would you?), don’t. Just eat them fresh. Churros the next day = sadness.
Okay But Real Talk—Why Churros Just Hit Different
There’s something childlike about churros. Something… unapologetically happy. Like, even when you’re deep in existential dread or your ex just posted engagement pics—you bite into a churro and the world gets soft around the edges.
It’s comfort food with flair. Fried therapy.
And the best part? You made it. With your own slightly-sticky, sugar-covered hands.
Bonus: Weird Churro Variations I’ve Tried (No Regrets)
- Stuffed with Nutella: Injected it with a piping bag. Nearly cried.
- Dipped in dulce de leche: Not legal in three states. Should be served with a warning.
- Pumpkin spice sugar: Yes, I’m basic. Yes, it slapped.
- Savory churros with cheese powder: Mistake. Absolute culinary war crime.
Relevant links if you’re nosy like me:
- Churros vs. Donuts: What’s the Vibe?
- TikTok Churro Drama Compilation (chaotic energy only)
