|LARGE CHURROS WITH A CHOCOLATE KICKER.|
The title is misleading. We did have churros and chocolate last night. But we did not have chocolate virgins. (Would they be anything like chocolate bunnies, chocolate Santas, or chocolate Easter eggs?) Nor were we virgins to churros and chocolate; it was not our first time. It was our second.
|RACING TO CATCH UP WITH THE REAL VIRGIN.|
It was, however, our first time to have churros and chocolate done right. Besides, on our way to our first good churros and chocolate, we stumbled upon another procession of another virgin, this one more grand than any we had seen.
|THIS PASO MIGHT JUST DO FOR THE PROCESIÓN DE SAN GERALDO.
BUT JERRY WILL WANT A CHAIR.
Back in August, on one of our various trips to IKEA, we had a wonderful taxi driver who, as we rode on the boulevard alongside the river, pointed to a kiosk at the start of one of the bridges into Triana and said in Spanish, “They have the best churros and chocolate in Sevilla.” The place was called “Los Especiales.”
|SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES. ENGULFED BY INCENSE.|
We have had churros in San Diego and in Mexico. To me, they’re nothing more than a long donut stick. I’m not a huge fan of donuts in the first place (with or without preservatives). But, I am an enormous fan of chocolate.
|AFTER THE SMOKE CLEARED.|
On my sister’s birthday in September, Jerry and I were out for a walk and decided to honor Dale, who would never have passed up any opportunity for junk food, by trying churros and chocolate. We stopped at a neighborhood café. We really had no idea what to expect of the chocolate. What was delivered to the table came in mugs and looked like what we know as hot chocolate (or cocoa) The churros were large and broken into long pieces having been originally made in a large spiral (Spanish style). They were phenomenally greasy. The chocolate was too thick to drink but not quite thick enough for dunking, which Jerry said was what one was supposed to do with churros and chocolate. None of this stopped us from consuming the entire platter and the two mugs of syrupy hot chocolate. It left us with indigestion, heartburn, and the sense that we hadn’t yet truly experienced Spanish churros and chocolate.
|VERY SERIOUS. AND SUCH A CURIOUS HAT.|
Fast forward to yesterday evening. I suggested we go for a walk in the afternoon, and Jerry suggested we walk over to Los Especiales as suggested by the taxi driver. On the way, we heard rhythmic drumming that sounded like there was a procession nearby. We were just a block away from the Church of the Magdalena, so we headed into the crowd, following the smell of incense. The drumming grew louder and the smoke heavier until we reached a truly stunning paso. It was either another saint’s day or the people of Sevilla had organized a parade to escort us to the churro stand. I choose to believe the latter.
|THE BAND. AND WAS THAT ALFRED HITCHCOCK AT RIGHT?|
We caught up with the paso, watched it turn up a small street, and we then continued on our own the last two blocks to the river. Now, I don’t know if this really is the best churros and chocolate in Sevilla, and I am certainly not going to make it my life’s work to find out. Suffice it to say that the churros and chocolate were so good that there is no need to look elsewhere.
|OUR GOAL. I CAN’T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I SAW JERRY MOVE SO FAST.|
On the way, I learned something. Jerry can still move a lot faster than I can. I have been dragging him around Sevilla for four months. Often, I actually stop and wait for him to catch up. But, last night, when he caught sight of the churros kiosk and thought it might be closing early, I had to run to keep up with him.