
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.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Mérida's round puff pastry rounds laminated with pork lard and glazed in white sugar, denser and more filling than orejas, with layers that shatter into crumbs the moment you bite. Eat them over a plate.
Cuellitos belong to Yucatán. Specifically to Mérida, where every panaderia worth the name keeps a tray of them by the register, stacked in uneven towers next to the conchas and the polvorones. They are not orejas. Orejas are thinner, flatter, folded into the heart-shape that gives them their name. Cuellitos are round, thick, denser in the hand, and the sugar on top is a hard white glaze instead of a caramelized edge.
The pastry is laminated with manteca de cerdo, not butter. This matters. Yucateca pastry tradition runs on pork lard the way French pastry runs on butter, and the flavor is the dish. A buttery cuellito is a different pastry. Lard gives them that particular savoriness underneath the sweetness, the same backbone you taste in good pan dulce from any panaderia between Mérida and Valladolid. La manteca es el sabor.
This is a slow recipe. Three folds, rests between each one, an overnight in the refrigerator before you cut and bake. You cannot rush lamination. The cold lard makes the layers. Warm lard smears into the flour and the whole structure collapses. If you do not have a day, do not start. Recetas probadas y garantizadas only when you respect the time the dough needs.
My notebook from Yucatán has a page from a panadera in Mérida named Doña Imelda who told me, in the kitchen behind her shop at five in the morning, that cuellitos were what she made for her grandchildren before school. Not the conchas. Not the bisquets. The cuellitos, because they were filling and they kept all morning in a paper bag in a school backpack. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
Cuellitos belong to the broader Yucatecan pan dulce tradition that developed in Mérida's panaderias from the late 19th century forward, when French and Spanish pastry techniques arrived through Cuba and were adapted to local ingredients, most notably pork lard in place of butter. The use of lard rather than butter in Yucatecan laminated pastry reflects both the peninsula's historic cattle-poor and pig-rich economy and the practical reality that lard tolerates the tropical heat of Mérida better than butter ever could. The pan dulce vocabulary of the Yucatán remains distinct from that of central Mexico, with names like cuellitos, polkas, and stuajes appearing on bakery shelves in Mérida that you would not find in a panaderia in Ciudad de México.
Quantity
3 1/2 cups
plus more for rolling
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 1/4 cups
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 pound
very cold, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Quantity
1 1/2 cups
Quantity
1 tablespoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| all-purpose flourplus more for rolling | 3 1/2 cups |
| fine sea salt | 1 teaspoon |
| granulated sugar (for the dough) | 1 tablespoon |
| ice water | 1 1/4 cups |
| white vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard)very cold, cut into 1/2-inch cubes | 1 pound |
| granulated white sugar (for dusting and glazing) | 1 1/2 cups |
| water (for the glaze) | 1 tablespoon |
In a wide bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and the tablespoon of sugar. Combine the ice water with the vinegar in a measuring cup. The vinegar relaxes the gluten and keeps the dough tender through the long lamination. Pour the liquid into the flour and mix with your hand until a shaggy dough forms. Turn it onto a clean counter and knead briefly, just until it holds together. Do not overwork it. You are making a pastry, not a tortilla.
Pat the dough into a flat rectangle, wrap it tightly in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. This is not optional. A warm dough will not laminate. The cold lets the gluten settle so you can roll it out without it fighting you.
While the dough rests, place the cubed lard between two sheets of parchment. Pound it with a rolling pin into a flat rectangle about 7 by 9 inches. The lard should be cold but pliable, not greasy and not rock-hard. If it softens too much while you work, slide it back into the refrigerator for ten minutes. La manteca es el sabor, and in this pastry, la manteca es la lámina. The lard is what makes the layers. Butter will not give you the same flavor and shortening is not a substitute. No me vengas con atajos.
On a lightly floured counter, roll the chilled dough into a rectangle roughly 10 by 14 inches. Place the lard block in the center of the dough. Fold the two short ends of the dough over the lard so they meet in the middle, then pinch the seams closed. You have now sealed the lard inside the dough. This is the package that becomes the pastry.
Turn the package so the seam runs horizontally. Roll it out into a long rectangle about 8 by 20 inches, working from the center outward, keeping the edges straight. Fold the dough into thirds like a letter: bottom up, top down. That is one fold. Wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes. The dough must rest cold between every fold or the lard will smear into the flour and you will lose the layers.
Repeat the rolling and folding twice more, refrigerating 30 minutes between each turn. By the third fold you should see distinct streaks of lard marbling through the dough when you cut into a corner. That marbling is the layers. After the third fold, wrap the dough and refrigerate it overnight, or at least 4 hours. The overnight rest is the difference between cuellitos that puff into round, layered crowns and cuellitos that come out flat and sad.
Pour 1 cup of the white sugar onto a clean counter and spread it into a thin even layer. Place the rested dough on top of the sugar and sprinkle more sugar over the top. The sugar takes the place of flour here. As you roll, the sugar presses into the dough and becomes the glaze that crackles when the cuellitos bake. Roll the dough into a long rectangle about 1/4 inch thick. Turn the dough and re-sugar as needed so it never sticks.
Using a 3-inch round cutter or the rim of a small glass dipped in sugar, cut rounds from the dough. Press straight down, do not twist. Twisting seals the edges and the cuellitos will not rise properly. Press the scraps together gently, re-roll once with more sugar, and cut more rounds. Discard scraps after the second roll. The layers in twice-rolled scraps are already compromised.
Place the rounds on parchment-lined sheet pans, spacing them at least 2 inches apart. They will puff and spread. Press the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar mixed with the tablespoon of water into a thick wet paste and dab a small spoonful on top of each round. This is the sugar cap that will glaze hard and white in the oven. Refrigerate the sheet pans while the oven heats. Cold cuellitos going into a hot oven is how you get the lift.
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Bake the cuellitos for 18 to 22 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the layers have puffed into thick round crowns and the sugar on top has set into a white crackling glaze. The bottoms should be deep golden, the tops pale and crusted with sugar. They go from done to burned quickly. Watch the last five minutes. Así se hace y punto.
Slide the cuellitos onto a wire rack and let them cool for at least 15 minutes. They are at their best within a few hours of baking, when the sugar glaze still cracks under your teeth and the layers shatter into crumbs. Eat them over a plate. There is no other way. They will leave crumbs on your shirt, on the table, on the floor. That is how you know you made them right.
1 serving (about 85g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Lupita
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.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's twice-baked rusks, half finished with sugar and half with flaky salt, built to drink coffee or hot chocolate with at any hour of the day.

Chef Lupita
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.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's flaky puff pastry balls, filled with sweetened cream cheese kissed with lima dulce, baked until the layers shatter under the sugar coat. The pan dulce of every Mérida baptism and birthday.