
Chef Lupita
Bizcotelas Yucatecas de las Concepcionistas
Merida's convent biscuit, beaten by hand for four centuries by the Concepcionistas, baked twice into a crackling sponge made for dipping into cafe con leche or thick Yucatecan chocolate.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Yucatán's soupy arroz con leche, scented with canela ceylán, limón criollo peel, and Papantla vanilla. Looser than the Mexico City version, drinkable from the spoon, served warm in the morning and cold from the icebox by the afternoon.
This is the Yucatán version of arroz con leche. Not the one from Ciudad de México, which stands up like a pudding when you spoon it. The peninsular version is looser, soupier, almost a thick atole of rice and milk, and it is meant to be drunk as much as eaten. Pour it into a cup. That is how the señoras in the Lucas de Gálvez market serve it.
The ratio is what makes it Yucatán: more milk to less rice. Then the perfume of canela ceylán, the soft pale cinnamon from Ceylon that the Yucatán dulcerías have used since the colonial trade routes brought it through Campeche's port. Cassia, the dark hard cinnamon sold in most North American supermarkets, is not the same spice. Use canela. The peel of limón criollo, the small native lime of the peninsula, gives it the citrus lift that the central-Mexico version does not have. If you cannot find criollo, Persian lime peel will get you close.
My mother's notebook has an arroz con leche recipe from Jalisco, thicker, no lime peel, made with a stick of cassia from the supermarket because that was what she could buy in Colonia Roma in the eighties. I made it that way for years before I went to Mérida and ate it from a clay cup at a stall near the cathedral. I came home and rewrote the recipe. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and the Yucatán cup is its own thing. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
Arroz con leche arrived in Mexico through the Spanish, who carried the dish from Al-Andalus where it had been made for centuries under the name 'arroz con leche' or 'arroz dulce,' itself a descendant of the Persian 'shir berenj.' The Yucatán peninsula's distinctive version reflects the region's commercial history: Campeche was a key port in the colonial spice trade, and Ceylon cinnamon (canela ceylán) was imported there in greater quantity and at lower prices than in central Mexico, making the soft, sweet Sri Lankan bark the standard cinnamon of the peninsula rather than the harsher cassia common elsewhere. The looser, more drinkable consistency of the Yucatán pudding is generally attributed to the peninsula's tropical heat, where lighter, beverage-like postres became the regional preference long before refrigeration.
Quantity
3/4 cup
Quantity
3 cups
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 long strip
pith removed
Quantity
1 long strip
pith removed
Quantity
1
split lengthwise (or substitute 1 teaspoon Mexican vanilla extract)
Quantity
a pinch
Quantity
6 cups
Quantity
1 can (12 ounces)
Quantity
1 can (14 ounces)
Quantity
1/2 cup, plus more to taste
Quantity
1/3 cup
plumped in warm water for 10 minutes and drained
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| long-grain white rice | 3/4 cup |
| water | 3 cups |
| Mexican canela (Ceylon cinnamon) sticks | 2 |
| limón criollo or Persian lime peelpith removed | 1 long strip |
| orange peelpith removed | 1 long strip |
| vanilla pod from Papantlasplit lengthwise (or substitute 1 teaspoon Mexican vanilla extract) | 1 |
| fine sea salt | a pinch |
| whole milk | 6 cups |
| evaporated milk | 1 can (12 ounces) |
| sweetened condensed milk | 1 can (14 ounces) |
| granulated sugar | 1/2 cup, plus more to taste |
| dark raisinsplumped in warm water for 10 minutes and drained | 1/3 cup |
| ground canela (optional) | for serving |
| extra raisins (optional) | for serving |
Rinse the rice in a fine-mesh sieve under cold water until the water runs almost clear. This pulls off the surface starch that would otherwise turn the pudding into wallpaper paste. In Yucatán, the arroz con leche stays loose and drinkable. Excess starch is the enemy of that texture.
In a heavy 4-quart pot, combine the rinsed rice, the 3 cups of water, the canela sticks, the lime peel, the orange peel, the split vanilla pod, and the pinch of salt. Use Mexican canela, the soft pale bark, not the dark hard cassia sold as cinnamon in most North American supermarkets. Cassia is from China. Canela ceylán is what gets used in every kitchen from Mérida to Valladolid. The difference is the whole flavor of the dish.
Bring the pot to a boil, then lower the heat until it barely simmers. Cook uncovered for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon, until the rice grains have softened but still hold their shape and most of the water has been absorbed. The kitchen will smell of canela and lime peel. That citrus note is what makes this a Yucatán pudding and not a central-Mexico one.
Pour in the whole milk, the evaporated milk, and the sweetened condensed milk. Stir gently with the wooden spoon to combine. Bring back to a low simmer. From here forward, you cannot walk away. Milk and sugar on the bottom of a pot will scorch in the time it takes to answer the phone. No me vengas con atajos.
Cook at a bare simmer for 30 to 40 minutes, stirring every two or three minutes and scraping the bottom of the pot with the wooden spoon. The pudding will slowly thicken as the rice releases its remaining starch and the milk reduces. You are looking for the consistency of a loose horchata, almost drinkable, not the stiff porridge served in Mexico City. The Yucatán version is soupier on purpose. Drinkable from the spoon.
Add the granulated sugar and stir to dissolve. Taste. The sweetened condensed milk has done most of the work, but the sugar rounds it. Add the drained raisins and stir them through. Cook for five more minutes. Remove the canela sticks, the citrus peels, and the vanilla pod. Take the pot off the heat.
Let the pudding sit for 10 minutes off the heat. It will thicken slightly as it cools but should still pour. Ladle into small clay cazuelitas or glass cups. In Mérida the señoras serve it warm in the afternoon and cold from the icebox in the heat of the day. Both are correct. Dust the top with ground canela and scatter a few extra raisins if you want. Así se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 350g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Lupita
Merida's convent biscuit, beaten by hand for four centuries by the Concepcionistas, baked twice into a crackling sponge made for dipping into cafe con leche or thick Yucatecan chocolate.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's frozen coconut pop, sealed in a long plastic bag, bitten from the corner and squeezed up as it melts. The Peninsula's playa snack, made on cremita de coco with a steep of cinnamon and lime.

Chef Lupita
Tiny Yucatecan meringues scented with toasted anís and a whisper of lima, dried in a slow oven until they crack against the teeth and dissolve into licorice. The dulce that lives in tins on Peninsula kitchen shelves.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's torrija. Day-old pan francés soaked in cinnamon milk, capeado in egg whites whipped to peaks, fried in lard, and bathed in a clove-and-canela syrup spiked with jerez and plumped raisins.