The Fried Dough Ho

It is true that there are a number of places I could choose to experience a churro; Disneyland, any number of street festivals, or even the occasional mall kiosk. But I was headed to Los Angeles anyway and what better place is there for the quintessential tube of Mexican fried dough than Olvera Street? This historical village consists of a small marketplace, restaurants, and strolling musicians. One of America’s oldest landmarks, some buildings within Olvera Street, date back to the 1780s.  Wandering the plaza, visitors are subjected to an expanse of color in the bouganvilla-dripping pueblos, the bright fiesta colors painted on maracas and sombreros, and the aromas of spicy frijoles or chips and salsa waft through the air.

A distant mariachi band’s high-pitched wail rang in my ears as I searched out Mr. Churros. Tucked in a small alcove, off the main drag, lied the rather dingy, unremarkable room. To my immediate left I could witness the production area; the extruder through which the magical wands of dough were passed, the deep fryer, and the large tray of cinnamon-sugar. As you walk in, why lies directly in front is a service counter with ice cream selections (ice cream? What for?), the cash register, and a selection of ready-made, already sugared treats. I asked to have mine freshly dipped and the the guy behind the counter was more than amenable in granting my request.

He asked if I wanted mine filled and we chatted for a bit. “What is traditional?” I queried. In Mexico, he informed, the Dulce de Leche is the most popular, but they also offer custard or strawberry. I wanted to taste pure, unadulterated dough, but he gladly obliged a small taste of his favorite, the Dulce de Leche as a dipping sauce. Not exactly traditional to not have it filled within the hexagonal spear of sweetness, but it did allow me a taste of the richly sweet sauce.

The churro on its own was quite good; firm to the tooth with a nice crunchy exterior with most of its hollow interior rimmed with a bit of tender sweet dough. The two-foot tube of dough had a nice flavor although it was a bit too sweet for me, with the Dulce de Leche providing an even more substantial tooth-achingly painful experience. An entire churro filled with Ducle de Leche would have been far too sweet for me and considering I had already eaten a malasada and four other gourmet doughnuts that morning, it should be no surprise that I only indulged a bite or two of this tasting. In retrospect, it was not the most memorable fried dough of my extensive Los Angeles excursion, but rather blasé in comparison.

One of the recurring suggestions for fried dough in Southern California — which is harder-to-find in the Bay Area — is malasadas. Although originally from Portugal, the malasadas seems to have proliferated in Hawaii. As with many fried doughs, their genesis began immediately before Lent and was a reason to use up all the pantry-stored sugar and lard, items which which have been verboten during Lent.

King’s Hawaiian is well-known all over the country for its sweet bread, a fluffy creation made with pineapple juice which is well-suited to the likes of French toast over a roast beef sandwich. King’s Hawaiian bakery is based out of Gardena although they have a full-blown restaurant in Torrance and a smaller to-go, fast-food restaurant next to their plant in Gardena. When I lived in the area, I admit that I never ate at the restaurant. Something about Kahlua-pork nachos just didn’t seem right to me.

However, considering the lack of Portuguese and Hawaiian establishments in Northern California, I knew this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up so early one morning, I headed out in search of the illusive malasada. My host recommended that The Local Place, the to-go restaurant near the manufacturing plant would be easier and closer to my next destination in downtown Los Angeles. I called ahead of time to make sure they had the desired confection as I headed forth. It was barely 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday only to have my hopes dashed that by the time arrived at 9:00 a.m., they were completely sold out.

Not deterred and with a little time before breakfast was slated, I drove pel-mel to the Torrance restaurant, fingers crossed. With a much more expansive bakery than the smaller satellite establishment, the King’s Hawaiian restaurant’s bakery not only has the much-desired malasada, but a full selection of their bread products, cakes and pies, and a large selection of regular doughnuts. The malasada was the object of my desire and even there, I had a decision to make; plain, chocolate-filled, or fruit-filled. I asked the girl behind the counter what her favorite was and she suggested that the chocolate-filled was traditional for Hawaiians, known as Dobash Malasadas.

Dusted in granulated sugar and the size of a large croquet ball, I found the dough texture of King’s Hawaiian malasada to be very light and fresh. It was easy to get caught up in the airy texture of the delicate crumb. The chocolate pudding filling, however, was less spectacular and I think I would have preferred a plain, unfilled version. For mass-produced chocolate pudding, it really wasn’t that bad, truthfully. So often it can be grainy or pasty and here it was extremely creamy and rich. It just had the faint hint of the synthetic mix from which I know it comes. But I give King’s Hawaiian tremendous points for the incredible freshness of their fried dough offering.

I have really great friends. It is a pretty fabulous friend who, knowing she is driving from Los Angeles to San Francisco makes a special stop just to bring The Ho a Bay Area rarity, Portuguese Doughnuts known as Malasadas. It was my buddy, Lisa, who did just that. A few days before my birthday, when Lisa was visiting family down south and stopped at Natas Pastries in Sherman Oaks. Here in the Bay Area, the only Portuguese Bakeries I can locate seem to be in Hayward or Santa Clara, cities I just don’t get to very often (okay, those are cities I don’t ever remember having gone to at all).

So I was pretty stoked when, after a 6+ hour drive, Lisa deposits on my doorstep a small white box filled with three Portuguese malasadas (also known as malazadas or malassadas). History has them being produced for the first time on the Island of Madeira and the Azores. As with many of the other  European-centric doughnut offerings, it is said that the malasadas originated by the necessity of using up sugar and lard before Lent, making them classically served for Mardi Gras.

Like my recently-prepared Pączki, these yeast-risen offerings are supposed to include a great deal of egg yolks and heavy cream. And while I greatly enjoyed the Natas malasadas that Lisa procured for me, now that I have tasted a REAL egg and cream-based doughnut, I am inclined to believe that these from a store have come from a different recipe. They are more like the standard bombolini I have been trying of late; very light and fluffy with a tender crumb. Two of the ones Lisa brought were just the fried dough while the third, larger one was filled with custard. Dusted with granulated sugar and even despite a very lengthy car ride, these were very rich, excellently-prepared doughnuts. The custard was not too sweet and quite rich. In some fashion, I much preferred these over the bombolini and continue to be very appreciate and grateful of my darling friend, Lisa.

The Ferry Plaza is a bit of a food mecca to die-hard foodies. There are dozens of stores offering any form of culinary delight, from meats to mushrooms, from macarons to Malbec.  I Preferiti di Boriana is one of the specialty stores offering a variety of products but truthfully, I don’t know what else they sell — I only go there for the Bombolini.

My BFF (Best Foodie Friend), Lisa, joined with me on the stunningly Spring day — which helps considerably so that I can taste more than one flavor without being too gluttonous. And she and I were completely in sync in wanting to taste the Raspberry filled and the Custard.

The wonders of this offering lies in its light cake which is tender and airy. Dusted in granulated sugar, there is no greasy sensation whatsoever and the cake is substantial enough to stand up to the fillings. Of the two, I was surprised that I enjoyed the creamy custard, moreso than the raspberry. It does not taste remotely synthetic or mass-produced, like so many custards. It is not overly sweet and the richness of the egg is definite.

The raspberry jam, is also very good, but somehow the extra sweetness of the jam, combined with the sweetness of the sugar on the exterior makes it that much more overpowering in sweet, while the custard mutes that sweetness.

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This is sort of a Part II report of Michael Chiarello’s restaurant Bottega in Yountville. Part I was from the same meal, but was a Savory Offering of Fried Dough. It was actually sort of funny. My darling hosts and I had finished our meal over a serving of assorted biscotti when we saw an adjacent table being served a sweet version of Fried Dough and as I had been showing them my newly-created website, Ron called out to the waiter and ordered the additional dessert. Wow – I was really touched. I mean, we had just finished dinner AND a pretty decent dessert, but Ron insisted; The Fried Dough Ho needed a complete report!

Here, we are eating a classic dessert presentation, inch-long warm fried dough rolled in granulated sugar and served with two sauces, a lemon curd and a raspberry jam. How much better can it get for a die-hard Fried Dough Ho to have two different servings in one spectacular meal? My only complaint about the doughnuts was the predominant use of a large-granule sugar which hardened to a point of flaking off in large sheets when the doughnut was bit; that meant there was a significant amount of grease still on the doughnuts when rolled in the sugar. One had to bite through large sections of sugar. This could have been rectified by rolling the freshly-dried balls in less sugar or possibly sugar that is more refined. Don’t get me wrong, they tasted great, but the sugar “sheets” did not adhere to the doughnuts when bit into but chunked off in the mouth.

The accompanying sauces were quite lovely and well-made as well. I am curious why two sauces would be offered but one in more quantity than the other? I suppose the obvious answer is that they are supposed to go with the curd more with the raspberry being an after garnish, but being a raspberry fan, I actually preferred that sauce over the curd, but the combination of the two was really exquisite. What a fabulous evening it was, having two Fried Doughs in one meal!