
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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Merida's profiteroles, golden pate a choux puffs the Yucatecos call cabbages, filled with cold vanilla cream and piled high on a platter for quinceaneras, weddings, and Sunday merienda.
Repollitas are from Yucatan. Specifically from Merida, the white city, where the old criollo families adopted French pastry in the late 1800s and the cooks in the kitchens of the big henequen-money houses gave the dish a new name and a new identity. The French call them choux. The Yucatecos looked at them and said: these look like little cabbages. Repollitas. The name stuck and a hundred and forty years later that is still what you call them in Merida.
You cannot understand this dessert without understanding Yucatan's own history. The peninsula was its own world for most of the 19th century, with stronger trade ties to Cuba, New Orleans, and Paris than to Ciudad de Mexico. Henequen money built mansions on Paseo de Montejo, and those mansions had French-trained pastry cooks. The repollita is what happened when that pastry tradition was handed to Yucateca cooks who already knew how to bake with the heat and humidity of the peninsula. They made the dough drier so it would hold in the wet air. They flavored the cream with Papantla vanilla, which has been cultivated in Veracruz since long before the conquest. They made the shells smaller, two-bite, so they could be piled on a platter and passed at a fiesta.
I learned this version from a dona named Carmela in the Lucas de Galvez market in Merida. She was selling them by the dozen on a Saturday morning out of a glass case her father built in 1956. She let me watch her pipe an entire tray with nothing but a soup spoon and her thumb, and she told me the rule she had been told as a girl: the shell must crack like dry leaves when you bite it, and the cream must be cold enough to make your teeth feel it. Anything less is a bad repollita. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and Yucatan claims this one with its full chest.
Repollitas entered Yucatan's repertoire during the henequen boom of the 1880s, when Merida's wealthy criollo families employed French and French-trained pastry cooks whose pate a choux was renamed by local cooks for its cabbage-like shape. The dessert became fixed in Yucateca celebration culture, quinceaneras, bautizos, weddings, by the early 20th century, and family pastry shops like Dulceria y Sorbeteria Colon, opened in 1907, helped codify the form. The use of vanilla from Papantla, Veracruz, the historical center of cultivated vanilla, where the Totonaca people first domesticated the orchid Vanilla planifolia long before European contact, ties the dessert to a uniquely Mexican ingredient route even within its French-inflected technique.
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
1/2 cup
cut into cubes
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 cup
sifted
Quantity
4
at room temperature
Quantity
1
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
2 cups
very cold
Quantity
1/3 cup
sifted
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1/2 cup
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| whole milk | 1 cup |
| unsalted buttercut into cubes | 1/2 cup |
| granulated sugar | 1 tablespoon |
| fine sea salt | 1/2 teaspoon |
| all-purpose floursifted | 1 cup |
| large eggsat room temperature | 4 |
| large egg yolk (for egg wash) | 1 |
| whole milk (for egg wash) | 1 tablespoon |
| heavy creamvery cold | 2 cups |
| powdered sugar (for the cream)sifted | 1/3 cup |
| Mexican vanilla extract (preferably from Papantla) | 1 tablespoon |
| powdered sugar (for dusting) | 1/2 cup |
Set two racks in the upper-middle and lower-middle positions of the oven. Heat the oven to 400F (200C). Line two heavy sheet pans with parchment paper. No greasing. The parchment is enough.
Combine the milk, butter, sugar, and salt in a heavy 2-quart saucepan over medium heat. Stir occasionally. The moment the butter melts completely and the liquid begins to simmer at a steady roll, dump in the flour all at once. Pull off the heat and beat hard with a wooden spoon until the flour is fully absorbed and the mass pulls into a single ball.
Return the pan to medium-low heat. Keep beating and pressing the dough against the bottom of the pan for two to three minutes. You will see a thin film of cooked dough form on the bottom of the pan. That film is the signal. You are cooking out moisture so the eggs can do their work later. Skip this step and your repollitas will be heavy and dense.
Transfer the hot dough to the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or to a wide mixing bowl. Beat on low for two minutes to release the worst of the heat. The dough should be warm to the touch but not hot. If it is too hot when you add the eggs, you will scramble them.
Add the eggs one at a time, beating fully between each addition. The dough will look broken and slick after each egg. Keep beating. It comes back together every time. After the fourth egg, the dough should be smooth, glossy, and fall from the paddle in a thick ribbon that holds a soft V-shape when you lift it. That ribbon is what you want. If it is too stiff, beat in another half egg. If it runs off the paddle, you have gone too far and the next batch will fix it.
Fit a large piping bag with a 1/2-inch plain round tip. Fill the bag with the warm dough. Pipe mounds about 1 1/2 inches wide and 1 inch tall onto the parchment, spacing them two inches apart. They will double. Each mound should look like a little cabbage, hence the name. Wet your fingertip with cold water and press down any peaks gently. Peaks burn before the rest is set.
Whisk the extra yolk with the tablespoon of milk. Brush the top of each mound lightly. This gives the repollitas their honey-gold color. Slide both trays into the oven. Bake for 15 minutes at 400F without opening the door. Drop the temperature to 350F (175C) and bake for another 15 to 20 minutes, until the shells are deep golden brown and feel hollow and dry when you tap one. If you open the door during the rise, they collapse. So no me vengas con atajos. Trust the timing.
Pull the trays out. Using a small paring knife or a wooden skewer, pierce a small hole in the side of each repollita to let the trapped steam escape. This is how you keep the interior from going soggy. Return the trays to the turned-off oven with the door cracked open for ten more minutes. Then transfer the shells to a wire rack to cool completely. They must be fully cool before you fill them.
In a chilled bowl, combine the cold heavy cream, the 1/3 cup of powdered sugar, and the Mexican vanilla. Whip on medium-high until the cream holds stiff peaks but still looks glossy, not grainy. The Papantla vanilla is the soul of this filling. Papantla in Veracruz is the birthplace of cultivated vanilla. The Totonaca people domesticated this orchid before any European set foot in Mexico. Use real vanilla. Imitation has no place here.
Fit a clean piping bag with a small plain tip, about 1/4 inch. Fill with the whipped cream. Insert the tip into the bottom or side of each cooled shell through the hole you already made. Squeeze gently until the shell feels heavy in your hand. Do not overfill or the shell will split. Some Yucateca cooks halve the shells with a serrated knife and spoon the cream in like little sandwiches. Either way is correct. Cada cocinera, su propia mano.
Arrange the filled repollitas on a serving platter, piled like the cabbages they are named for. Dust generously with the remaining powdered sugar through a fine-mesh strainer. Serve within the hour. The crisp shell starts to soften the moment the cream goes in. This is a dessert that does not wait. Asi se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 41g)
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