My Guilty Pleasure in Madrid

I’m not a chocoholic or someone with a super sweet tooth. If you put a dessert or candy in front of me, I’ not going to jump for it. But there are some moments, or some things that can trigger a massive craving. And in Madrid I have found my kryptonite. Before moving to Madrid, Pablo and I visited for his brother’s wedding. It was small and intimate: just the couple’s parents, grandmothers, siblings and their significant others. The morning ceremony was followed by lunch at the nearby Café de Oriente, in front of the Royal Palace. The meal was a sort of taster menu with who knows how many courses. It was absolutely delicious, but the chef d’oeuvre, for me, was surprisingly the dessert. It was a fancy take on the classic torrija. I can best describe torrijas as Spanish French toast. Typically served during Holy Week, day-old bread is sliced, soaked in a milk-cinnamon-sugar mixture, fried, and then topped with more cinnamon and sugar. I’ve never actually read a recipe so I don’t know if there are other components or variations, but with broad strokes, that is what a torrija is. At the Café de Oriente, they use a brioche instead of bread, add a toffee sauce, and top it off with a scoop of ice cream. As I took my first bite, I had confounding thoughts. I was ecstatic at discovering something so delicious, but at the same times I was disappointed because I knew I would never find anything like it anywhere else. The torrija at the Café de Oriente is one of the few sugar loaded things that I will definitely dig into if placed in front of me. Whenever someone comes to visit, I make a point to take them to try these torrijas. And if I’m ever in the area I have to resist stopping by for a quick snack. I have to adit that sometimes I give into the temptation, but without any regrets. Even though this fancy spin on torrijas is great, traditional torrijas are just as delicious. Pablo’s grandmother makes them for her birthday every year and I always have to take a few home. But there’s something about the torrijas at the Café de Oriente that keeps me coming back for more. I dread the day that I leave Madrid knowing that they won’t be easily accesible. I suppose I’ll just have to learn how to make them, or return to Madrid every other month for my sweet guilty pleasure.