A Breakfast Ritual.

Alexis makes churros traditionally. He has in his set-up what looks like a sausage maker which contains the pallid batter waiting to be transformed into one of my favourite Spanish delicacies. As he turns the crank and does a little shimmy with his machine, the batter is forced out through a small opening at the end of a spout. As he works Alexis builds up a sweat, wiping his brow on a small pink towel. He encourages the batter to form a large spiral in the hot oil below. As I watch the batter transforms, like skin under the sun, from palest yellow to a golden brown in minutes. As soon as the perfect colour is reached the churro is fished from the oil. Two long skewers are slid beneath the giant spiral transferring it to a circular silver platter, a perfect fit. As the churro rests here, excess oil draining away, Alexis retrieves his scissors. They are cloth scissors. He snips at intervals along the golden coil, creating my mountain of churros.

Each day I have devoured them at the plastic tables adjacent to Alexis’ stand in the small car park off Frigiliana’s Plaza de las Tres Culturas. This is my morning ritual. My Churreria Church. What makes these so good is their context. An unassuming stand with a humble and permanently happy vendor – unafraid to suggest that a Spanish boyfriend would be most beneficial, to my Spanish. Blink and you could miss it. Although it would be quite a feat for you to slip past unnoticed, with Alexis offering any passer by smile and an ¡Hola! He also speaks perfect English, some French and a splash of German; there really is no excuse!

There are only a handful of gems to be found in Frigiliana, but Alexis’ Churreria has to be a very large jewel in its crown, where you can be certain of the warmest welcome.

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