
Chef Lupita
Besitos Yucatecos
Mérida's pale egg-yolk-and-vanilla kisses, tiny cookies built on eight yolks and a perfume of orange blossom, sandwiched with guava paste and dusted heavy with powdered sugar.
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Mérida's lard-enriched bizcochos, denser and crumblier than their agua cousins, the kind of pastry that appears at breakfast, at merienda, and on the table whenever family walks through the door.
These are yucatecos. Not norteños, not poblanos, not the bizcochos you find in a Ciudad de México panaderia. Bizcochos de manteca belong to Mérida and to the small towns of the Yucatán peninsula, where the lard is the point and nobody has ever pretended otherwise.
There are two main lines of bizcocho in Yucatán. The bizcocho de agua, lighter, crisper, made with water and a thinner dough. And this one, the bizcocho de manteca, denser, crumblier, richer, the kind that holds together when you dip it in coffee and absorbs everything around it. The agua version is elegant. The manteca version is what the abuelas actually serve. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and within the state, each pastry has its own job.
The lard is non-negotiable. Butter changes the flavor and the crumb. Vegetable shortening leaves a coating on the roof of your mouth that no Yucatecan cook would tolerate. Manteca de cerdo, fresh and clean smelling, gives the bizcocho its short, tender crumb and its yucateco soul. La manteca es el sabor. If you cannot get good lard, render your own from pork fatback. It takes an afternoon and it will outlast a dozen pastries.
My mother did not make these. She was from Jalisco and Jalisco has its own panaderia tradition. But on my third trip to Mérida, a woman named Doña Edelmira at the Mercado Lucas de Galvez sold me a paper bag of bizcochos still warm and walked me back to her sister-in-law's house to show me how they were shaped. Her notebook page is now in mine. Recetas probadas y garantizadas.
The Yucatecan bizcocho tradition descends from the Spanish bizcocho brought by colonists in the 16th century, but the peninsula's relative isolation from central Mexico, owed to its difficult overland connection to the rest of the country until the 20th century, allowed Yucatecan bakers to develop their own distinct pastry vocabulary. The split between bizcocho de agua and bizcocho de manteca reflects an old peninsular distinction between everyday and Sunday pastries, with the manteca version historically tied to occasions when a household could afford to render fresh lard. The Mérida cafe and panaderia tradition, centered around merienda at four or five in the afternoon, codified the bizcocho de manteca as a daily companion to chocolate or coffee, a status it still holds in the city's older neighborhoods.
Quantity
4 cups, plus more for dusting
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 cup
cold and firm
Quantity
2
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1
beaten with 1 tablespoon milk
Quantity
2 tablespoons
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| all-purpose flour | 4 cups, plus more for dusting |
| granulated sugar | 1 cup |
| baking powder | 1 tablespoon |
| fine sea salt | 1 teaspoon |
| pork lard (manteca de cerdo)cold and firm | 1 cup |
| large eggs | 2 |
| whole milk | 1/2 cup |
| pure vanilla extract | 1 teaspoon |
| large egg for washbeaten with 1 tablespoon milk | 1 |
| granulated sugar for sprinkling (optional) | 2 tablespoons |
Heat the oven to 350F. Line two heavy baking sheets with parchment. The pans should be heavy. Thin sheets scorch the bottoms of bizcochos before the centers set, and a burned bizcocho is a wasted bizcocho.
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly mixed. The salt is not optional. It is what keeps the sweetness from going flat and what makes the lard taste like itself instead of like a blank cushion.
Add the cold lard in spoonfuls scattered across the flour. Work it in with your fingertips or a pastry cutter until the mixture looks like coarse sand with a few pea-sized lumps still visible. Those lumps are what give the bizcocho its crumb. La manteca es el sabor. Use good lard. The kind in the green tub at the back of the supermarket aisle is not good lard. Render your own or buy it from a carniceria.
In a small bowl, whisk the two eggs with the milk and vanilla until uniform. Pour the wet mixture into the flour and lard. Stir with a wooden spoon just until a shaggy dough forms. Stop the moment the flour disappears. Overworking the dough develops the gluten and gives you tough bizcochos. No me vengas con atajos and do not abuse the dough either.
Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface. Press it together gently with the heel of your hand, fold it over once, and press again. Two or three folds, no more. The dough should hold but still look a little rough at the edges. Smooth, pretty dough is the wrong dough.
Pat the dough into a slab about 3/4 inch thick. Cut it into rounds with a 2-inch cutter, or into squares with a sharp knife if you do not have one. The señoras in Mérida do not always own cookie cutters. A knife and a steady hand will do. Gather the scraps, pat them out once more, and cut again. After the second cut, the third pass will be tougher. Bake those as the cook's portion.
Arrange the bizcochos on the lined sheets with about an inch between them. Brush the tops with the egg wash. Sprinkle a small pinch of granulated sugar over each one. The sugar crackles on top in the oven and gives the bizcocho its signature finish. Yucatecan home cooks have done it this way for generations. Así se hace y punto.
Bake for 18 to 22 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the tops are deeply golden and the bottoms are firm and bronzed. Pale bizcochos are underbaked bizcochos. You want color on top, color underneath, and a crumb that holds together when you tear one open. Let them cool on the pan for five minutes, then transfer to a wire rack.
Eat them warm with strong coffee or hot chocolate. In Mérida, they appear at breakfast, at merienda in the late afternoon, and on the table when family arrives. The bizcocho is not a fancy pastry. It is a working pastry from a working cuisine. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
1 serving (about 51g)
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