On Sundays, after the requisite Catholic mass, churchgoers would flood the grounds outside, where tamale and churro ladies peddled their wares to the hungry. My sisters and I weren't impervious to these treats. I always picked a churro, which was sweet and crunchy and wrapped in crisp, white paper.
I crave those treats now and then. Over the years, I've had dressed-up versions at much nicer venues than the church courtyard, but they have not come close to that simple treat.
This Xooro place, in Los Angeles, may be a worthy contender.