Baking

Cheesecake is one of my favorite desserts, and I love the kind that is a little bit sour. This one is made with a little crema and a hazelnut crust. I like to serve it with quince, a natural pairing with cheese. I also gave it a little heat from arbol chiles to showcase the wonderful combination of sweet, sour, and spicy that is popular in modern Mexico.

It’s no surprise that lime is used widely in Mexican cooking, although it can be confusing because the translation is limón. We don’t have the yellow lemon (well, it is very rare). Lime’s lovely puckery, tart flavor is celebrated in many of our preparations, including this one. The filling for the tart is essentially a curd with a creamy texture and a bright flavor. I don’t like to hide the qualities of the lime at all, and I love the combination of cherries with it. I originally made the fruit mixture with capulines, dark-fleshed wild cherries with large pits, but I’ve never seen them outside Mexico; regular cherries or blueberries are a tasty substitute.

I developed this recipe several years ago. My training was mostly French, and I wanted to take one of the classic French desserts and give it a Mexican flavor. The different layers of textures and flavors come together beautifully and show off the cake’s sophistication when it is cut into beautiful rectangles. It takes quite a bit of time to make because there are many steps, but it can all be prepared in advance and will come together very nicely. It is well worth the effort. Note that you will need 4 baking sheets of the same size.

I love plantains! I love them fried, steamed, and even raw (although if I eat too many this way, I get a stomach ache). Whenever I see some black ripe ones, I buy many and figure I’ll eat them one way or another. I went crazy one day last year in Mexico and ate them every way I could think of. Then I had my aha moment! I thought that whatever desserts are tasty with bananas must also be good with plantains, so I played around a bit and decided that the upside-down cake was the best way to go. I think it’s great on its own, but you can serve it with a little crema as well.

This is another cake that I developed when I worked at Rosa Mexicano, and it quickly became one of the most popular desserts. We used to serve it with caramelized bananas, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce, all on the side. I have since tweaked the recipe a bit, by adding some chocolate to the tres leches mixture itself, instead of having a separate sauce, and by layering the cake with whipped cream.

I used the idea of the delicious brittle caramel topping that defines a crème brûlée on this bread pudding simply because I love it! You will need a propane or butane torch to caramelize the sugar that will top the delicious layers of toasted buttery bread with fresh mango held together by a fragrant custard. The sweet and sour flavors of the sauce go wonderfully with the richness of the custard and heighten the freshness of the sweet yellow fruit.

I absolutely love passion fruit, and the trees in southeastern Mexico, particularly one in my childhood friend Fernando’s backyard in Bacalar Quintana Roo, inspired this creation. Think of this dessert like a tropical layered cake filled with the exquisite tartness of passion fruit and topped with a silky, sugary meringue. Avoid using mezcal with a worm in the bottle because they are, for the most part, not the best quality. You will need a blowtorch to caramelize the meringue topping, or you can use a broiler or simply sprinkle with some crunchy meringue instead (page 160).

My dear friend Roberto Santibañez and I have had a lot of fun over the years since we began working together at Rosa Mexicano, cooking together and creating dishes inspired by our land that we so often miss living in New York. This is one of the desserts that we still talk about. The name for this dish comes from mixiote, which is the thin film from the maguey leaf that was traditionally used to wrap savory dishes that are baked or steamed, releasing the leaf’s wonderful herbal sweetness. Nowadays, most mixiotes actually use parchment paper or banana leaves, alluding to the way the dish is prepared rather than the original definition. In this version, the pears are cooked slowly in a sweet piloncillo syrup inside these little pouches, and are then served warm over a slightly salty cheese filling. When the pouch is cut open, it releases the amazing syrup fragrance that balances perfectly with the flaky, buttery cheese pastry.

Milhojas, or “thousand leaves,” is the name given to this pastry because, just as in the fall, when the autumn leaves trickle down and move as the wind blows, tiny pieces of this crunchy, flaky pastry fly around when you take a bite of it. This recipe is one example where the French influence in Mexico began to be very apparent during the rule of Porfirio Díaz at the beginning of the twentieth century, and a love for classic French pastries has remained part of our tradition ever since. Milhojas have remained a favorite dessert and are found all over Mexico in many pastry shops and bread bakeries. As with many other desserts, they are often sold by the slice. Although milhojas are often filled with jams, mousses, and whipped cream, this one is layered with pastry cream, which I find to be the most representative one of all. The addition of mangoes and coconut gives it a nice freshness and tropical flavor. Traditional puff pastry is a bit time-consuming to prepare, so I have provided a quick “mock” version that will work very well when you don’t have the time or patience required to make the real deal.

Capirotada is Mexico’s version of bread pudding and is traditionally served during Semana Santa (Lent). It is made with day-old crusty bread that is lightly fried and layered or topped with various ingredients, such as raisins, peanuts, coconut, tomato, or cheese, and baked with sweetened milk or piloncillo syrup. I had the good fortune to stumble upon this incredible bread pudding in Tlaxcala. Cecilia and I met through my dad and immediately sparked a friendship. She told me her mom’s recipe was the best capirotada ever and that it had to be in the book. She was so right! I visited her mother’s home, where I stayed and cooked for a few days. I had never met her before but was warmly welcomed by her with kindness and sweetness. The day after we prepared this unusual bread pudding (originally from Jalisco), the sweet aroma of fragrant guavas and piloncillo lingered in the air as we enjoyed a slice for breakfast with a delicious glass of cold raw milk.

Niño envuelto means “wrapped baby,” and it is basically a sponge cake filled with some kind of jam, cream, cajeta, or mousse, rolled up tightly, and covered with confectioner’s sugar, cream, coconut, almonds, chocolate, or meringue. It is served as a dessert, but you can also find it in panaderías sold in slices. Although I have always loved sweets, cake has never been my favorite dessert, and I think it’s because I really like crunchy things. The one exception to this rule is pastel de fresas con crema (vanilla cake filled and covered with whipped cream and strawberries). When I think about this cake, my mouth waters and I remember the Gran Via bakery, which has been making one of the best versions of this cake since the late 1960s. When the bakery first started, they sold only two things: this strawberry layered cake and huge meringues filled with whipped cream. So, when deciding what kind of niño envuelto to make, it seemed only natural to blend all of these flavors and textures into one. It is important that the eggs be at room temperature to ensure a spongy cake, so separate the eggs, cover them, and allow to come to room temperature for 30 minutes before whipping.

When I was a little girl, I would sneak downstairs with my cat Lider, while my sister and parents were asleep, and search the cupboard for the doily-lined tray that held these chocolate “sandwiches” decorated with an amusing chocolate scribble. I think these cookies were the first solid that my little brother ate. Garabatos are still baked in the home of a lovely woman named Elvira Bleyer. She extended her home kitchen, attached a storefront to it, and named it Délvis. The bakery has expanded and is now a franchise. These cookies are not part of the traditional Mexican repertoire, but they are part of my culinary memory growing up in Mexico City and are still served for dessert. This version was developed through a collection of recipes from friends and colleagues, but mostly from palatable memory.

This dessert, also called chocoflan, gets its name from a magical thing that occurs in the oven. You cover the mold with some cajeta, pour in the chocolate cake batter, pour a layer of flan on top, and cover it lightly. It goes into the oven in a bigger dish with some hot water, and when you check whether it’s done a little while later, you find that the flan is hidden somewhere and all you see is chocolate cake! You wait for it to cool, unmold it, and there is the flan! This is a sticky, rich, sweet dessert that is not for the faint of heart. Although you can make it in individual ramekins, there is something quite exciting about slicing a full-size one. It never ceases to amaze me.

During my research, I visited some friends in Chihuahua. We made a family recipe for flan that required raw milk, took ten hours to bake, and sat in the fridge for two days before unmolding! It was, I have to say, the best flan I’ve ever tasted, but for practicality, I chose a recipe that doesn’t require three days of preparation—not to mention living or traveling to a state where raw milk is legal. The types of flans that exist are endless, and choosing one basic one was no easy task. I could write a whole book on flans (hey, there’s an idea!), but, inspired by the gentle patience required by the one in Chihuahua, I chose to do an old-fashioned one. Old-fashioned in the sense that I didn’t want to use any canned milk, powders, or artificial flavorings. I also wanted to make a flan that was not too eggy because that is a common complaint with these kinds of flans, so I used half-and-half instead of milk to help thicken it.

When I visited Guadalajara, I spent two whole days asking around and traveling to find the best jericallas possible. I came across a lot of misguided information and dead ends, but eventually, persistence and curiosity paid off. I found a little shop with an eggshell-colored metal wall and a tiny opening that allowed you to peek at the rectangular black oven and endless trays of individual glasses, small and large, filled with the yellowish custard. The owner didn’t share the recipe; however, she did say that although cornstarch is often used to stabilize it (and she admitted to using it when the price of eggs goes up), the best ones are made without it. Jericalla is one of my favorite desserts. It’s most commonly found in the state of Jalisco, and some say the name derives from the Valencian city of Jérica, where the recipe was brought by Spanish settlers in the eighteenth century. It is similar to flan but lighter (it can’t be unmolded), is flavored with canela, has a dark toasty sheet on top, and is eaten directly from the cooking vessel. This recipe does not refrigerate well because the topping becomes very unappealing, so it should be eaten the day you make it and at room temperature or briefly chilled.

When I visited the city of Monterrey, a family friend, Amado, lovingly and kindly drove me around, showing me the wonderful delicacies of the surrounding towns. He took me to the small town of Marin where Martha Chapa has a small shop famous for her cookies, where I tried an amazing tomato empanada that I couldn’t stop thinking about. She told me how to make the jam, and, when she saw how excited I was, she gave me a large container filled with it. I kept eating spoonfuls of it on my way home and adapted the recipe once I was back in my kitchen. You can keep the jam chunky, or, if you like a smoother consistency, you can pulse it in a food processor after it’s cooked. The jam can be made well in advance and will keep for months if properly stored. It is very tasty on its own and I recommend that you make a big batch.

It’s no secret that there is a playfulness in Mexican culture, and it is very apparent in the names and shapes of our sweet breads. One of the most amazing panaderías I’ve ever visited is Horno Los Ortiz in Morelia. The owners are some of the most creative people I’ve ever met. They spend months shaping dough into intricate figurines that will form a nativity scene like no other. Their signs, specially designed boxes, and skillfully adorned breads for the holidays are remarkable. Their artistry is still present in their daily bread, but on a much simpler and smaller scale. These little pig faces, made from flaky pastry and filled with delicious pastry cream, are similar to ones they were selling during one of my visits. They a very fun project indeed.

The name of this crunchy, sugary pastry alludes to their shape. You will find enormous ears in Mexican bakeries, but I’ve made smaller ones, which are perfect to serve for brunch or with coffee. They’re traditionally made with puff pastry, but I’ve used a mock puff recipe so you can make them at home easily, with less guilt (there is much less butter), and still have plenty of flavor and texture. I like to keep the ready made dough in the freezer so I always have them on hand for guests.

It was dark and chilly outside as my friend Claudia Santa Cruz showed me how to make these marvelous crunchy morsels. As the egg whites whipped, her youngest daughter (about eight years old and a natural-born chef) measured the sugar she would later carefully pour. We moved to the dining room and three generations filled countless trays of the white kisses that would sit in the oven overnight. Claudia’s mother took several to her home because they didn’t all fit in the oven. I woke up around 5 A.M. to take a peek, and there was evidence that someone else had already been there, so I knew it was okay to take one. I took another, and before I realized it, I’d had a full meringue breakfast in the silent morning.

I want to thank Victor Gomar for sharing the recipe for these quick and fun morning pastries that are more like cookies. The sugary cocoa dough in the center helps shape them like a belt buckle and the same dough can be used to make playful worms (gusanitos) filled with jam (opposite page), Pastry Cream (page 164), or Cheese Filling (page 103).