It’s why I started this blog, the reason I love inspiring others to get in their kitchen, the thing that pulls me out of bed every day.

Every day and especially Sundays, which just so happens to be our designated churros for breakfast day.

Now this is not a recipe for churros.

If you’re visiting Spain (or live here like me), why make the mess of frying your own churros when the stand down the street makes them so damn well? Instead, I'm sharing a few things you might not know about churros—a few keys to a successful churros experience, if you will, a list of things I’ve learned throughout the years.

Down at the bottom, I’ll include my absolute favorite place to go, the tiny stand I stopped by this morning before quickly snapping these shots.

P.S. If you’re reading this, please show some signs of life in the comments! Do you like churros? Where have you had them? If you know Seville, what’s your go-to spot?

First thing’s first. Stop calling them churros.

Alright, this is very Sevilla-specific, but that’s where I live, and that’s what this post is about. Churros is the very generic Spanish word for these fried beauties, but if you want to show you know your stuff, use the more local language by saying calentitos instead. More specifically, you can order calentitos de rueda (the pillowy ones you see in the photos) or calentitos de papas for the thinner, crisper version.

If they’re not freshly fried, get outta there.

I lived in Madrid for three years, and I never quite got over the horrifying fact that most bars didn’t freshly fry their churros. Unless you’re going somewhere that fries them to order (San Ginés is a classic, and Chocolat for a slightly more neighborhood feel, in case you’re in Madrid and looking for good ones!), I suggest you pass. There is nothing worse than room-temperature churros that were fried hours before you ordered them. Cold, lifeless and weirdly chewy. Get outta there, or stick around but opt for a tostada for breakfast instead.

Calentitos de rueda, always.

My absolute favorite, and if they’re not yours, too, I’m not sure we can be friends. Thick, chewy, airy perfection.

Take ‘em home if you can.

The best churros I’ve ever had are ones that come from a small stand without any customer seating. I almost never order churros at a bar, and generally prefer to frequent the little spots around the neighborhood. There’s nothing like running home with hot churros in my arms, knowing Pablo’s taking care of the hot chocolate and coffee. Plus, it’s pretty hard to beat freshly fried calentitos in pajamas.

Breakfast or afternoon snack, end of story.

Churros are for breakfast or an afternoon snack in Spain. For a true Spanish experience, abide by their strict food rules and do as the locals do. Or, if you’re not worried about fitting in with the social norms, feel free to get them whenever you damn please.

Don’t make the same mistake I did (or do, and embrace it).

Like I mentioned above, when I bring churros home, Pablo takes care of the coffee and the hot chocolate. Call me crazy, but I like to have a little bit of chocolate for dipping, and my coffee, as always, for drinking. Beware, if you go out for churros at a bar, the waiters will find it weird if you order both beverages. So don’t make the same mistake I did (and let’s be honest, still continue to do, always and forever), or just embrace it like me!

Don’t settle for anything less than airy perfection.

Perfectly frying churros is an art form, and I’d urge you not to settle for anything less than perfection. When done right, calentitos (or porras, or churros, whatever you want to call them!) should be crisp on the outside and airy from within. If your calentito feels heavy and weighed down by the oil it was fried in, set the churro down, back away, and continue your search for breakfast perfection.

So, where’s my favorite place for churros in Sevilla?

Okay, I’ll tell you, but promise me you'll opt for the calentitos de rueda. And if you're headed to this part of town, promise me you'll skip the churro stand at the beginning of the Triana bridge, too. It's overrated.*

*It breaks my heart to write this, but as of summer 2021, my favorite spot closed shop. The owners retired, and the neighborhood sent them off with a small flamenco-filled celebration. The good news? If you’re looking for more great recommendations elsewhere in the city, my friend David over at The Everyday Food blog has you covered.

Here's to lazy Sunday breakfasts and the very best churros in the city.

Throughout the years and cities, I've made a little home at my local markets in Córdoba, Seville and Madrid, and though I started out barely knowing how to ask for the things I wanted, 10 years later, it's my favorite Saturday morning adventure.

Shopping at a Spanish market can be a downright joyous experience if you know what you're doing, so I thought it'd be fun to compile the top lessons I've learned along my path to Spanish market euphoria.

How to (successfully!) visit a Spanish market

1. Make the rounds: I can't tell you how many times I've gotten to a market, seen something amazing, bought it, and then turned the corner to find either a better product or a better price. Make. The. Rounds! Take stock of what each vendor is offering before anything else.
2. Learn the lingo: If you're just visiting Spain, I understand you're not going to go into a market fully fluent. But learning a few key words goes a long way when it comes to asking for what you want. For most food staples, you'll order by weight, either kilos or grams, though if you're looking for an exact number of items, you could also order three apples or two chicken breasts. Here's a very quick look at a few key terms to arm yourself with before walking into a local Spanish market.

Un cuarto: 1/4 of a kilo
Medio kilo: 1/2 of a kilo
Un kilo: 1 kilo
Gramos: Grams
Pescado: Fish
Carne: Meat
Queso: Cheese
Jamón ibérico de bellota: Acorn-fed Iberian ham
Jamón serrano: Serrano ham
Pan: Bread
Una barra: Baguette
Tomate: Tomato
Higo: Fig
Pera: Pear
Aceite de oliva virgen extra: Extra-virgin olive oil
¿Me pones...?: Can you give me...?
Ponme...: Give me...
¿Cuánto cuesta?: How much does it cost?

In practice:
- Buenos días. ¿Me pones 200 gramos de jamón ibérico por favor?
- Ponme medio kilo de higos y un cuarto de tomates.

I've chosen a few specific words above because when combined, they'd make a magical Spanish picnic. Freshly baked baguette dipped in extra-virgin olive oil, in between bites of juicy cut-in-the-moment summer tomatoes. Delicately cured cheese paired with sweet figs or pears. A simple slice of perfectly cured Iberian ham paired alongside serrano ham, to really detect the difference.

3. Avoid the big ones: I know how much visitors love Mercado San Miguel in Madrid and La Boqueria in Barcelona, but if you're looking for a local experience, don't go there. While there are one or two exceptions, most of the stalls and restaurants are over-priced tourist traps that offer a superficial glimpse into the real market experience. Instead, go to a neighborhood market, which you'll find filled with locals doing their daily shopping, and a handful of great spots to grab a quick beer or lunch. My favorites are Mercado Antón Martín, Mercado de los Mostenses and Mercado de Maravillas.
4. Rely on the experts: My favorite part of shopping at markets is getting to know the vendors! These are people who live and breathe their products and very often feel proud of what they have to offer. Talk to them. Ask them what you should buy. Ask what's in season. Ask what they cook at home. Some of the best advice my mother-in-law ever gave me was to make friends with market vendors, and that way they let you into their secret club, giving you the best products and letting you know when something you've ordered maybe isn't in its prime.
5. Morning is best: While I recognize the fact not everyone likes to be at the market right as it opens its doors like I do, the earlier you go, the better. Fewer people means shorter lines, and that means you have a better chance of getting better service or chatting with vendors. You'll also have first pick of the day when it comes to all the produce, and if you're in the market for fish, you can expect to get the day's best catches.

6. Explore, try, and discover: Going to a local market can be scary. I'll never forget the first time I visited one, all alone, my first week in Córdoba. I had no idea how to approach a vendor and get what I wanted. In fact, for the first month or so, I thought I could only order fruit by the kilo—do you have any idea how many small mandarins are in a kilo?! A lot. That first day in the market, though, I sidled up to a bar tucked in between the fruit stands, and I ordered a coffee. I saw people around me eating toast smothered in freshly grated tomato, and I ordered the same. Again, leading by example, I generously poured the dark green olive oil, which had been steeped with crushed garlic, atop my toast. It was a glorious, unexpected bite, and one I only had by venturing outside my comfort zone. I urge you to do the same. Do as you see being done. Try things you've never seen before. Ask the local vendors questions. Order in Spanish, if you can, and when in doubt, pointing and smiles go a long way.

And with that, onward to the magical world of Spanish markets! Here's to new adventures, early morning market trips, seasonal fruits and vegetables, and snagging the best catch of the day.

And while you might find me waxing poetic a little too often about Andalucía, that doesn't mean I don't love Madrid. Unlike southern Spain, Madrid had everything my little expat heart could hope for—I've found real buttermilk, rose water for baking, jalapeños and so many other food-related gems. Those might seem like small feats, but trust me when I say those were all near impossible to find in the south. Madrid's got more restaurants and bars I could ever hope to try, public pools galore, museums filled with paintings and exhibits, and plays a plenty to choose from on the weekends. It's also well connected to the rest of Europe, and has one of the best metro systems in the world. In short, there's a lot to love.

In honor of Madrid and all the city has to offer, I thought it'd be fun to compile my favorite things about Spain's capital. Today, I'd like to tell you about bread, and specifically the absolute best places to buy bread in Madrid.

Before we jump into it, here's what you need to know. In a Spanish household, we eat bread with every single meal. Like a fork and knife, it's brought to the table no matter what. It might be a long crispy baguette, or thick slices of a country loaf. We use it to soak up sauce and push the last bits of food up onto our forks. I'm still very okay with a meal without bread, but Pablo is decidedly not. But when it comes to breakfast, there is absolutely no negotiation. Unless I'm feeling like fancy pancakes or a bit of oatmeal, there is bread on my plate. And it's always from one of these panaderías below.

The Best Bread in Madrid

1. Moega: Until switching jobs recently, this bakery was a two-minute walk from my office. Which is to say it was incredibly easy to pick up before work or on my walk home. My go-to order was their bolla, a sourdough boule made with organic wheat flour, which I always ask to be sliced. As soon as I get home, I freeze most of it and just take out a slice each morning to toast. Apart from their killer breads, this Galician bakery also offers homemade empanadas filled with everything from Spanish pisto, to octopus, cockles, tuna or beef. Also not to be missed are their preñaos, small rolls filled with chorizo.

2. Obrador San Francisco: I love this bakery for their standard sourdough boules, but what really sets them apart are the special breads they make each week. You can check their Instagram to see what's on the menu for the day, but here's my pro tip: Go on Friday, and get the spicy garlic bread, a delicious sourdough bread filled with spicy chile and roasted garlic.

3. Panadario: This beautiful bakery is located in the Lista neighborhood of Madrid, and they offer a wide variety of whole grain sourdough breads. My absolute favorite is their whole wheat spelt flour sourdough loaf. While you're there, you'd be silly not to try one of their delicate croissants. Ah, and I love this, too—on the weekends, they sell homemade pizza packs, which include fresh pizza dough, mozzarella and homemade tomato sauce.

4. Mazál Bagels (formerly known as Bruja's Bakery): This one's a bit of a cheat, but only in Madrid could this one make the list. Mazál Bagels, hands down, makes the BEST bagels in the city. The owner, Tamara, started by selling her delicious bagels out of her Madrid apartment, but as of January 2020, has opened her very own shop. Her bagels are chewy and flavorful, and it's super fun to guess what her bagel of the month will be. I used to like keeping these in my freezer for lazy weekend breakfasts that taste like home, but now it's even easier to grab a bagel any day of the week!

The beauty of Spain is that everyone's got their favorite place to get bread, and in reality, my list of four places doesn't even scratch the surface. But they're my favorites, and if you're new to Madrid, it's a place to start. When my brother came to visit and I pulled out a slice of bread from our freezer to toast, he was amazed at how good it was. I forget sometimes that where I come from in the U.S., getting good bread isn't as easy as it is here, nor is it quite as commonplace. It might seem simple to you, too, but it's something I truly treasure. So here's to my favorite bread in Madrid, and to everyone else's out there, too—to the little things that make Madrid so special.

Tell me⁠—where do you get your bread?

Can you blame me? Midwesterner born-and-raised, we really didn't have the best access to seafood. In high school I might've dabbled in shrimp scampi here and there, or sushi on a Friday night.

Once in Spain, I'm ashamed to say it still took meeting Pablo to give seafood a chance. The year I spent in Spain before meeting him, I gorged on croquetas, salmorejo, all types of pork and cured meats, rice dishes and more—the further from the sea, the better.

But then I met Pablo. Growing up, fish was a weekly staple in his house; he knew where all those little bones were and could expertly wield that special little fish knife around them. He wasn't scared of it, like I was. On the contrary, it's one of his favorite things to eat. And on our first date, after I assured him I loved everything and wasn't a picky eater, he went straight for boquerones fritos—fried anchovies. Great.

I didn't like them. I was aghast when he told me the ones were so small you can just chomp right into them. I didn't like biting the fish's whole body, leaving just the tail. I was scared I would choke on a fish bone; I got panicky. But I was also on a first date, trying to play it cool. Oh, what? Anchovies, totally. I eat these all the time. This isn't weird for me at all.

That was in 2011. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when my love affair with pescaíto frito (fried fish) began, but something shifted that day. As Pablo pushed me out of my Midwestern comfort zone, my world started to open.

As Pabo and I got more serious and I'd grab the weekend train to Sevilla, where he lived at the time, and we'd fill our weekends with lazy beers on terraces and big plates of fried fish. He introduced me not just to fried anchovies, but then to fried baby squids. And after that, punchy dogfish that's marinated in cumin and vinegar before frying.

Those early days still make me smile. Neither of us had any idea what we were getting ourselves into. I loved being around him, soaking up things I hadn't understood about Spanish culture at the time. And I like to think I showed him a thing or two about mine, too. I loved ordering these fish I'd never seen or heard of in my life, and I began adding the words to my Spanish vocabulary, never having learned them in English.

If you find yourself in Andalucía, don't skimp on the fried fish. Order everything, and savor every bite. You might just learn something new about yourself.

Call me a Midwesterner who just can't get used to good fish. Call me a broken record. Call me what you like, but know that fried fish in southern Spain is one of the very best things you'll ever eat.

Pescaíto frito (fried fish) defined

Before diving into the beauty of fried fish culture, let's go over what to order.

Acedías: A flat fish similar to sole, but smaller. Learn how to get the delicate white meat off this little guy, and you can master any.

Boquerones fritos: Fried anchovies, whose fish bones are so small that you can grab the tiny fish by the tail, and chomp down on the entire body.
Calamares fritos: Fried squid, usually served with lemon and a dab of mayonnaise, and never—under any circumstances—served with marinara sauce.
Cazón en adobo: Dogfish that's marinated in a vinegar-based adobo before fried. I like to call this the gateway to fried fish—start here if you're not 100% convinced.
Choco frito: Fried cuttlefish that, when done right, melt like butter. It's hard for me to see this on a menu and not order it!
Pavía: Only in Seville, this is usually hake (but sometimes cod) that's battered and fried.
Puntillitas: These little fried baby squids are Pablo's favorite. I have to say I'm partial to them, too.
Sardinas fritas: Similar in mouth-feel to fried anchovies, but usually slightly bigger. I've seen my mother-in-law eat the bones on smaller ones, but I'm not that brave.
Tacos de merluza o de bacalao: Taco in Spain means small chunks, and it's quite common to see fried hake or salt cod fried in this form.

Honorable mentions

These guys aren't technically fried fish, but they're almost always ordered alongside the ones mentioned above. They also happen to be two of my favorite things to eat.

Ortiguillas: Fried sea anemone. My in-laws have taught me to order them small and bien frititas (well fried). Pop one of these into your mouth, and you'll taste the sea.
Tortillitas de camarones: Chickpea flour, parsley, onion and tiny shrimp come together before being fried into a crisp, thin savory pancake of sorts.

The culture of pescaíto frito

Fried fish gets a bit tangled into my love story with Spain, so forgive me if I wax a little too poetic on the subject.

Simplicity at its best: Pescaíto goes back to everything I love about Spanish food culture. When you've got something fresh from the sea, it really doesn't need a marinara sauce or a crazy garnish. Fried fish in southern Spain is just that—fish, lightly dusted in flour and fried in olive oil.

Sharing is caring: I've never seen anyone order an entire plate of fried fish for themselves. It's meant to casually share, which sort of inherently brings everyone together. Grab a fork, and hop into a conversation as you share a plate of freshly fried cuttlefish. When you go back for more and realize the plate's empty, order more. Repeat until stuffed.

Beach life: Pablo's family summers in Chiclana, a tiny village in Cádiz, and we always try to spend a few days with them each summer. For me, fried fish takes me back to vacation and beach life—I feel my warm skin and sandy feet; I hear the neighbor's rooster in the morning, the coffee maker gurgling. We'll usually have a low-key lunch at home, but almost always head out around 9 pm for the freshest of fresh fried fish dinners.

But there just wasn't a market for non-Spanish food then, and there still really isn't. Things have changed since 2010, and while there are certainly more cuisines on offer today, it's not what Córdoba does best.

And though I didn't see it at the time, that's the beauty of Córdoba. It's a city that remains fiercely Spanish— stuck, for better or worse, in its traditional ways—in an ever more globalized world.

So today I'm talking my favorite places to eat in Córdoba. And while you won't find any Mexican or Thai restaurants on my list, I promise you'll find some of the best Spanish food in the country.

When it comes to eating Spanish food in Córdoba, you've got two groups—traditional taverns and modern restaurants.

Traditional taverns in Córdoba

In Córdoba, you've got your ultra traditional, often no-frills establishments, that serve simple Andalusian fare. These are the places where I first realized I was starting to fall for Spain. The places where friends and neighbors meet, standing at the bar (often a little too close for comfort, for my American sensibilities!), sharing nibbles and drinking an ice cold tiny beer. These traditional taverns will always be my favorites.

1. Taberna Salinas: I lived around the corner from this traditional restaurant for a year, and it was always my favorite place to bring visitors. This is THE place in Córdoba to try the city's signature dishes like bull tail's stew, salmorejo and flamenquín.

2. Pepe de la Judería: Traditional food in a bit more of an elegant setting, this restaurant is located in the heart of Córdoba's Jewish quarter. If you go, be sure to try their fried eggplant drizzled with molasses.

3. Casa Antonio: This might be Córdoba's best-kept secret. Tucked away from the center and located in a residential area, this is where Pablo and I go for our fried fish (choco—cuttlefish—always) fix. Their salmorejo is fantastic, and if you're feeling adventurous, try Pablo's favorite dish—volcán de gulas.

4. Taberna el Pisto: Smack dab in the city center, this bustling tapas bar is the perfect place to picotear on all things Spanish tapas. They're known for their pisto (ratatouille), but I can vouch for just about everything else on the menu.

5. Taberna Góngora: Near and dear to my heart, this is where Pablo took me on our first date. You can expect grumpy waiters along with bull heads and bullfighter paraphernalia decorating the walls at this traditional Cordobés tavern. Their menu features a wide array of wild game (get the venison!), and they have the best flamenquín in Córdoba.

6. Bodegas Guzmán: Just about as no-frills as you can get, this bodega couldn't be more authentic. Grab a spot at the bar, let the bartender tell you which wine to try, and share a few tapas among friends.

Spanish with a twist

And on the other end of the spectrum, you've got Spanish with a twist—Córdoba's more modern restaurants. I'm not talking anything too crazy, but these restaurants take key Spanish ingredients and flavors and elevate them in a way the traditional taverns just aren't interested in.

1. Cuatromanos: I love this restaurant. They take everything I adore about Spanish food (simple, great quality ingredients) and put something surprising on the plate. Their presa ibérica (a delicoius melt-in-your-mouth cut of pork) marinated in miso, as well as the grilled octopus with wasabi mashed potatoes are two perfect examples.

2. La Sastrería: Trendy food done right. I love their salmorejo isn't served with the traditional boiled egg and jamón combo, and that they've got a bull's tail stew taco with pickled pineapple, red onion and cilantro.

3. Regadera: This restaurant came onto the Córdoba dining scene when I still lived there, and it's remained a staple in the city. Their menu changes often, which is a sign you're in good hands. Apart from the delicious food, it's got the perfect location right along the river. Finish your afternoon lunch with a beautiful walk across nearby Roman bridge.

4. La Tortuga: Located just off Plaza de las Tendillas, this was my go-to breakfast place when I lived in Córdoba. Apart from serving a delicious tomato toast in the morning, La Tortuga is a cozy place to grab a quick, healthy lunch or light dinner.

Here's to delicious food in Córdoba, crowded taverns, rambunctious conversations and those moments when you're traveling where you really start to fall for a place. If you try any of these places (or any that aren't on the list), I'd love to hear about them in the comments.

But what I lacked in knowledge, I made up for with eagerness. I was open to trying anything, and that's just what I did. And now, nine years later, I know all there is to know about traditional cordobés food. I chalk most of that up to my Spanish in-laws and (soon-to-be!) Spanish husband. And lots of on-the-ground research, too. Looks like those long lunches out, and cold caña after cold caña paid off.

So I'd like to tell you exactly what you need to eat in Córdoba—the things you simply can't leave the city without trying.

6 Must-Try Traditional Foods in Córdoba

1.Rabo de toro: Stewed bull's tail is one of Córdoba's most famous dishes. If you're a fan of tender meat that falls off the bone at even the hint of a fork's approach, you'll love this delicate onion- and carrot-based stew. It's cooked for hours to reach ultimate melt-in-your-mouth perfection.

2. Salmorejo: You can think of salmorejo as gazpacho's heftier cousin. This thick, cold puree is simply fresh tomatoes blended with day-old bread, a clove of garlic, salt and olive oil. These simple ingredients produce one of the most delicious things you'll try in Córdoba. If you're at a no-frills tavern, expect your salmorejo topped with cured ham and a chopped boiled egg. If you're going fancy, you can expect everything from strawberry-infused salmorejo to tinned tuna belly atop.

3.Flamenquín: This one's tough to translate, but it might just be the most cordobés food on here. I say it's tough because a friend of mine with a tapas bar in Córdoba asks me how to translate it every time he re-does his menu, and every time I do... it comes out less than poetic. But, alas, it's a traditional food from Córdoba, and you have to know about it. Imagine this: Cured ham is laid atop a thin pork cutlet, and the entire thing is rolled up, dredged in egg and bread crumbs, and deep fried. It's far from fancy, but it's damn delicious. The best part is the ridiculous amount of mayonnaise served on the side for dipping.

4. Berenjenas con miel (o con salmorejo): Fried eggplant topped with molasses might sound like a strange combination, but this sweet-and-salty mix is addictive. And because it's Córdoba, and their official dish might as well be the aforementioned salmorejo, you'll also see it served with that instead of the molasses sometimes, too. They're both delicious, but I'm partial to the dark, sticky molasses version.

5. Cochifrito: Maybe you've heard of Spain's famous suckling pig. While this delicacy is well-known in other regions for being roasted in a wood-burning oven, in Córdoba the best way to order it is fried, hence the name cochi (which comes from cochinillo, or suckling pig) and frito, which means fried. This is a leave-your-manners-at-the-door type of dish; you'll pick up the small pieces of fried sucking pig with your hands to get every last piece of juicy meat and crunchy skin off the bone.

6. Caracoles: Snails! Forget fancy escargot, or whatever other preconceived notion you have about these little buggers, and hop on the snail train with me. In Córdoba there is an actual "snail season," which starts each year in late February/early March and goes through May. If you're lucky enough to be in Córdoba during these months, you'll see the entire city's dotted with snail stands, complete with a make-shift bar, plastic or metal tables, and little plastic buckets where you can dump the snail shells. My absolute favorite order is plain old caracoles—order them like that, and you can expect small snails served in a piping hot glass of cumin-spiked broth. But if I'm being honest, once I'm at my favorite snail stand in Córdoba, and I've ordered my small caracoles, I usually order caracoles gordos, too. These are not for the faint of heart—they really are quite big—but if you can get past that, the spicy, tomato-based sauced they're bathed in is the best part.

What do you think? Anything you love on the list? Anything you wouldn't even entertain the idea of trying? I'd love to share my favorite spots to eat in Córdoba next—if you're interested, leave a comment below!