Christmas. The whole thing. Pozole on the 24th at Roberto and Elena's — the Maryvale kitchen, the same pot, the same recipe, the same guajillo chiles and pork and hominy. Roberto said grace in Spanish. The candles were lit. The pozole steamed. Elena cried, as she does every Christmas Eve, as she will do every Christmas Eve for as long as she is standing in that kitchen. The tears are not sadness. The tears are the overflow of a life too full for the body to contain.
Christmas morning: home. Sofia at 6 AM (restrained). Diego at 6:01 AM (not restrained — he heard Sofia and launched himself out of bed like a missile). The tree. The presents. The controlled chaos of two children discovering that Santa understood their requests and delivered with precision. Sofia: a professional-grade soccer ball (size four, match-quality), new shin guards, and a cookbook — not a kids' cookbook but a real one: Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat by Samin Nosrat. She asked for it. She is nine in January. She reads cookbooks for fun. Diego: a dinosaur excavation kit (the real kind, with plaster and tools), a bicycle (his first, training wheels, which he immediately demanded be removed because "I do not need help wheels, Daddy" — he does need help wheels), and a set of real cooking utensils: a spatula, a whisk, and a small cutting board with his name on it. He held the spatula and said, "Now I can cook for real."
Christmas dinner: standing rib roast, the fourth year. Elena's tres leches cheesecake. Roberto's carne asada. The Mexican chocolate chess pie, which made its family debut and which Roberto ate two slices of and declared "a man's dessert" as predicted, and which Elena ate one slice of and declared "too much bourbon" as predicted, and which Jessica ate one slice of and said, "This goes on the menu, page fourteen, dessert section, right column" because Jessica has already mentally laid out the Rivera's menu with the specificity of a woman who formats documents for a living.
After dinner, after the dishes, after the kids were in bed, I went to the altar — the outdoor kitchen, dark now, the smoker cold, the mesquite table clean — and I stood there and looked at the architect's rendering of Rivera's hanging above the smoker and I thought: next year. Next year the savings hit six figures. Next year the Manual is complete. Next year the plan is ready. Next year, or the year after, or the year after that, the drawing becomes a building. The fire moves from the backyard to the restaurant. The table grows from fourteen seats to fifty. And everyone who has ever eaten my food — at the cookouts, at the competitions, at the firehouse, at the porch drops during the pandemic — everyone will have a seat. The door will be open. The fire will be burning. And above the counter, a photograph of Roberto at the cinder block grill, and underneath it: Just show up.
That dessert table on Christmas night—the Mexican chocolate chess pie making its debut, Elena’s tres leches cheesecake holding its ground, Roberto going back for a second slice—it proved something I already knew: the Rivera holiday table is a dessert table first and everything else second. These churros didn’t make it onto the spread this year, but they’re on the list for next Christmas, because if there’s one thing that belongs next to a chess pie with too much bourbon, it’s a warm churro rolled in cinnamon sugar that the kids can eat with their hands while the adults argue about whose dessert won.
Churros
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 24 churros
Ingredients
- 1 cup water
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, cut into pieces
- 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 3 large eggs
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 2 inches deep)
For the cinnamon sugar coating:
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Optional dipping sauce:
- 4 ounces Mexican chocolate, chopped
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
Instructions
- Make the dough. In a medium saucepan, combine water, butter, sugar, and salt over medium heat. Bring to a rolling boil, stirring until butter melts completely.
- Add the flour. Reduce heat to low and add flour all at once. Stir vigorously with a wooden spoon until the mixture forms a ball and pulls away from the sides of the pan, about 1 minute. Remove from heat and let cool for 2 minutes.
- Add the eggs. Beat in eggs one at a time, stirring well after each addition until the dough is smooth and glossy. Stir in vanilla extract.
- Prepare the coating. Mix the cinnamon and sugar together on a shallow plate or in a paper bag. Set aside.
- Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to a depth of about 2 inches. Heat to 375°F. Line a sheet pan with paper towels.
- Pipe the churros. Transfer dough to a piping bag or sturdy zip-top bag fitted with a large open star tip. Pipe 4- to 6-inch strips of dough directly over the oil, using scissors or a knife to cut each strip free. Fry 4 to 5 churros at a time to avoid crowding.
- Fry until golden. Fry churros, turning occasionally, until deep golden brown on all sides, about 3 to 4 minutes per batch. Transfer to the paper towel-lined pan to drain briefly.
- Coat in cinnamon sugar. While still warm, roll each churro in the cinnamon sugar mixture until evenly coated.
- Make the dipping sauce (optional). Heat heavy cream in a small saucepan until simmering. Pour over chopped Mexican chocolate in a bowl and let sit 1 minute, then stir until smooth.
- Serve immediately. Churros are best eaten warm and fresh. Serve with the chocolate dipping sauce on the side.
Nutrition (per serving, 2 churros)
Calories: 180 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 20g | Fiber: 0.5g | Sodium: 65mg