
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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Yucatán's hollow yuca fritters, fried in manteca until they crackle, split open, and bathed inside and out with warm miel de abeja melipona spiced with canela and clove. Made for the novenas of finados.
These buñuelos are from Yucatán. Not from the Bajio, not from Mexico City, not the flat sugared discs you find on Christmas Eve in Guanajuato. These are something else. They are little hollow orbs of yuca dough, fried in manteca until the shell crackles under a spoon, then split open and bathed inside and out with miel de abeja, the dark, floral honey of the Yucatecan stingless bee.
The yuca matters. The peninsula has its own pantry: yuca, achiote, sour orange, recado, miel melipona. The Maya cultivated yuca and kept beehives long before the conquest, and these buñuelos are what happens when a Maya pantry meets a Spanish fry-pan. Wheat flour appears, but only barely, only enough to bind. The body of the buñuelo is yuca. The soul of it is the honey.
In the pueblos around Mérida and Valladolid, these are made for the novenas of finados, the nine nights of prayer that lead into Hanal Pixan, the Maya feast for the dead at the end of October. The neighborhood women gather in one kitchen, peel yuca by the kilo, fry in shifts, and send platters of buñuelos out to the altars and to the families who sat the rosary. My notebook from the trip I took to Mani in 2014 has a page in the handwriting of a señora named Doña Felipa, who told me: 'El buñuelo se baña por dentro porque el alma del muerto come por dentro.' The buñuelo is bathed inside because the soul of the dead eats from the inside. I have never forgotten that.
If you cannot find miel melipona, use a good dark wildflower honey. It is a compromise and you should know it. The melipona honey is more acidic, more floral, almost wine-like, and it is what makes a Yucatecan buñuelo taste Yucatecan. Cada estado, su propia cocina.
Yuca (Manihot esculenta) is a domesticated American root crop that predates the conquest by several thousand years and was a staple of the Maya across the Yucatán peninsula long before wheat or sugar arrived. The Spanish brought the buñuelo, a fried dough sweet of Moorish-Andalusian origin, in the 16th century, and Yucatecan cooks adapted the form to the local pantry by substituting yuca for the wheat base and replacing cane syrup with miel de abeja melipona, the honey of the native stingless bee Melipona beecheii that the Maya had cultivated in hollow log hives since pre-Columbian times. The association of buñuelos with the novenas leading into Hanal Pixan, the Maya day of the dead observed at the end of October and beginning of November, reflects the syncretic Catholic-Maya calendar that took shape in the colonial pueblos of the peninsula and remains living practice in towns like Maní, Tixkokob, and Espita.
Quantity
2 pounds
peeled and fibrous central cord removed
Quantity
1
lightly beaten
Quantity
3 tablespoons
melted and cooled slightly
Quantity
1/4 cup, plus more for shaping
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
lightly toasted on a comal and crushed
Quantity
4 cups
Quantity
1 1/2 cups
Quantity
1 stick
Quantity
2
no pith
Quantity
2
Quantity
1/4 cup
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh yuca rootpeeled and fibrous central cord removed | 2 pounds |
| large egglightly beaten | 1 |
| manteca de cerdomelted and cooled slightly | 3 tablespoons |
| all-purpose flour | 1/4 cup, plus more for shaping |
| baking powder | 1 teaspoon |
| fine sea salt | 1/2 teaspoon |
| granulated sugar | 1 tablespoon |
| anise seedlightly toasted on a comal and crushed | 1 teaspoon |
| manteca de cerdo or neutral oil for frying | 4 cups |
| miel de abeja melipona (Yucatecan stingless bee honey) | 1 1/2 cups |
| canela mexicana (true Ceylon cinnamon) | 1 stick |
| orange peel stripsno pith | 2 |
| whole cloves | 2 |
| water | 1/4 cup |
Cut the peeled yuca into 2-inch chunks and place them in a pot with cold water to cover by two inches. Add a generous pinch of salt. Bring to a boil and cook 20 to 25 minutes, until a knife slides through with no resistance. Drain and let the chunks steam off their excess water for five minutes. Pull out the woody central fiber from each piece. That cord will never soften and it will ruin the dough. Pregúntale a las señoras del mercado in Mérida, they will tell you the same thing.
While the yuca is still hot, pass it through a potato ricer or mash it with a wooden pestle in a large bowl until completely smooth. No lumps. Lumps fry into dense bites and the buñuelo will not puff. The mash should look like a pale, slightly sticky dough.
While the mashed yuca is still warm, mix in the melted manteca, the beaten egg, the sugar, the salt, and the crushed anise. Stir in the flour and baking powder a tablespoon at a time. The dough should be soft, smooth, and just barely tacky, the texture of fresh masa. If it sticks badly to your hand, add another spoon of flour. If it cracks, your yuca was too dry; add a teaspoon of warm water. La cocina no es decoración, es trabajo. Work the dough only until it comes together. Overworking it makes the buñuelo tough.
Lightly flour a clean surface. Pinch off pieces of dough about the size of a small lime, roll each into a smooth ball, then press a deep dimple into the center with your thumb. The dimple is what makes the buñuelo hollow when it fries. Yucatecan buñuelos are not flat discs like the ones from the Bajio. These are little puffed orbs, almost like fritters, with a hollow heart waiting to be filled with miel. Set the shaped buñuelos on a floured tray.
In a small saucepan, combine the honey, canela stick, orange peel, cloves, and water. Warm over low heat, stirring, just until the honey loosens and the spices perfume the syrup. Five minutes is enough. Do not boil. Boiling honey turns the flavor bitter and dark. You want it warm and pourable, the color of amber held to sunlight. Pull the pan off the heat and let the spices steep while you fry.
In a deep, heavy pot or wide cazuela, heat the manteca over medium until it reaches 350F. If you do not have a thermometer, drop a pinch of dough into the fat. It should rise to the surface within a few seconds and bubble steadily, not violently. La manteca es el sabor. Lard gives the buñuelo its proper flavor and a crisper shell than oil. If you must use oil, use it, but you are making a compromise, not an upgrade.
Lower the buñuelos into the fat four or five at a time, dimple side down. Do not crowd the pot. They will sink, then rise within thirty seconds and begin to puff. Turn them gently with a slotted spoon so they color evenly, three to four minutes total, until they are deep gold and the shell sounds hollow when you tap it with the spoon. Lift onto a wire rack set over a sheet pan and let them drain. Do not stack them. The steam softens the crust and the crackle is lost.
While the buñuelos are still warm, split each one halfway open with a paring knife along the equator, like you are opening a tiny book. Hold the buñuelo over a shallow clay platter and spoon the warm miel into the hollow until it begins to spill out. Then pour more miel over the top so the outside shines too. Inside and out, that is how they are served for the novenas of finados in the pueblos around Mérida and Valladolid. Eat them while the shell is still crackling and the miel is still warm. Así se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 190g)
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