“Cinco churros y cinco chocolate caliente,” I ordered.

The waiter looked at me quizzically. “Cinco?”

“Si, cinco. Por todos.”

A moment later he returned with five cups of rich, steaming, thick, velvety hot chocolate. And two platters of churros, piled high. We all stared at each other. We had assumed that an order of churros equaled one churro. Evidently, an order of churros equaled multiple churros. We laughed, and dug in.

Silently, we dipped our churros in thick chocolate, making sure to fill each nook and cranny with delicious chocolateness. We mostly ate in silence, enjoying the richness of the combination, somewhat amazed we were sitting beneath a Tiffany lamp in a Churreria, a restaurant whose purpose is to serve delicious, elegant logs of fried dough. After we had each eaten as much as we could, six lone churros remained on the plate.

I asked for the check, and was ever so grateful that the waiter had ignored my request, and brought us only three, not five, orders of churros.