Gluten Free

Brightly colored gelatins filled with different layers—translucent or pastel—and over-the-top gelatin figurines are sold everywhere in Mexico. I couldn’t have a book on Mexican sweets without at least one gelatin, so I picked one that has familiar flavors. Think of it like a Creamsicle in a whole new presentation. This recipe is based on one from a book by Josefina Velázquez de León. Make sure you use fresh oranges for the best flavor.

The coast of Colima, a small state in southwest Mexico, is renowned for many candies, particularly coconut ones. The vibrant candied limes retain a slight bitterness that contrasts nicely with the sweet coconut filling. Eating them will make you feel like you are walking along the beach.

My mother’s friend Yoya Estrada is one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met, and she transmits her kindness through her hands. She shared this family recipe from Durango with me a few years ago, and it’s one of my favorites. It lasts awhile if it’s well wrapped. Enjoy it sliced on its own or serve it with an assortment of cheeses, even though that is not the traditional Mexican way.

Guava is one of the most sensual fruits, and it truly shines when it’s cooked. Filled with luscious caramel and toasted pecans, this treat defines sinful. Look for guavas that are soft to the touch and fragrant. You can also find them frozen or puréed, but make sure they’re not loaded with sugar or anything else.

Tejocotes are small fruits similar to crab apples but are quite sour and have inedible seeds. The name derives from the word texocotl, meaning “sour, wild, or hard fruit,” and they are abundant at the end of the year. My maternal grandmother, Juanita, used to make this delicious treat and always reserved a huge jar just for me.

These sweet peaches are used often in Mexican cooking primarily to decorate cakes and to eat with ice cream or pancakes. I thought it might be nice to have this recipe so you can make some at the height of peach season and use them in the colder months when fresh local ones are out of the question.

As my friend Josefina says, we Mexicans love two kinds of sweets: the really over-the-top sweet, sticky ones that make your teeth ache, and the tart-spicy ones that make your mouth pucker, scorch your palate, and make the tip of your tongue salivate. Many of these latter kinds are made with tamarind. This recipe is one that most people think of when it comes to dulce de tamarindo. They are sold along the highways and beaches of Acapulco. Even when they are mixed with sugar, they remain tart and acidic; however, I have included an option for adding citric acid for those who really want an extreme puckery sensation. These tamarind balls have seeds in them. You can make them without the seeds, but it’s a little extra work (however, I don’t think you’ll mind sucking the seeds, trying to get all the tasty candy off).

If you’ve visited Mexico, you’ve probably tried these goat’s milk caramel candies mixed with pecans and wrapped in bright red cellophane paper. The name gloria means “glorious,” and that’s exactly what these confections are. There are many versions of this candy made primarily in Linares, a city located in the south of Nuevo Leon. This recipe requires patience and a candy thermometer, but it isn’t difficult and the candies make very nice gifts.

One of my mom’s friends, Yoya, gave me this family recipe long ago and I absolutely love it. Because you caramelize the sugar early in the process, the time it takes to prepare the caramel is much shorter than with other recipes. These make wonderful gifts and are nice to have around for guests.

One of my favorite candy stores in Puebla is called El Lirio. The owner of the store, Sara Martinez Muñoz, is a lovely woman with white hair and a fighting spirit, who loves to play jokes on her customers. She says that when she sees couples entering the store unsure of what to get, she quietly asks the woman to give her partner a little kiss (which is the name of the candy). Most hesitate, but then oblige—how could they refuse a nice old lady? As they approach the counter, she slowly walks with her cane toward the edge of it, and as the man bends over, she hands him a besito. Invariably they laugh and blush, but it is all soon forgotten once they take a bite of this delicacy. She says the name comes from the fact that they are small and delicious and leave you wanting more, the way a real kiss does.

I have not been able to have these for a very long time because I became allergic to peanuts about fifteen years ago, but I always looked for them on my way to the movies when I was little. It was one of my favorite treats—a long tube of soft plastic, filled with crunchy, sweet red balls that never lasted through the movie. I never realized or even questioned how they were made, but I definitely remember being fascinated by the idea that each peanut was encapsulated in a sugary, crunchy coating. I have not put any food coloring in these because I prefer the caramel color, and I don’t think the traditional red adds anything to the recipe. I am certain you will end up making these again and again.

Chihuahua, a state in the north of Mexico, is filled with nogales, the pecan tree that adorns many of the valleys and towns in the area, and there are hundreds of dishes and desserts where the pecan is the featured star. One of my favorite pecan recipes is this one prepared by Marisela Chavez de Romo, a very kind and sweet woman who opened her home to me and showed me the proper way to select and clean pecans during an afternoon of pecan-based recipes. These wonderful treats are special because of their unexpected molassy flavor.

Brittles in Mexico are made with honey, piloncillo, all sorts of nuts, and sesame seeds. There are different kinds depending on the area, but overall they tend to be a bit too hard so I like to add a little butter and baking soda, which gives them a wonderful crunch without breaking your jaw. The brittle can also be ground in a food processor and used to top ice cream.

Whenever I think of meringues in Mexico, I think of big crunchy pillows adorned with sliced almonds and imagine my shirt filled with crumbs as I hold it in my hand, eager to reach the center that cradles little threads of chewiness. These meringues are a direct import from the French with no real adaptations. In the Mayan region (Quintana Roo, Yucatan, and Campeche) however, the meringues are a more delicate matter. They have a slightly crunchy exterior and a very soft, cottonlike interior perfumed with lime zest and sweetened with a lot of sugar. I was very curious about how these particular meringues were made and visited the home of Geny Beatriz Camal Ruiz, a candy artisan in Bacalar, Quintana Roo. Beatriz begins preparing her candies at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning so that she is ready by 9:00 A.M. (after she has fed her children and husband, showered, and cleaned her house) to fill her cart and go to the center of Chetumal and sell her sweet treats. Geny, like many other candy makers of the region, uses lime zest to avoid an unpleasant eggy taste that often occurs because of the heat. Spoonfuls of batter are gently placed on top of an aluminum tub with a little water to prevent sticking. She then places a comal on top of the tub and hot charcoal on top of it. This way, the meringue cooks from top to bottom, leaving the center soft and seemingly uncooked. The coal provides a wonderful smoky background but does not distract from the vibrant lime zest. I tried to do these in a home kitchen with terrible results and am very grateful that Nick Malgieri, a wonderful and sweet pastry chef, was able to help me out and achieve the texture I was looking for. You will need five baking sheets for this recipe, so borrow some if you don’t have enough.

I remember the first time I tried these treats. I may not know exactly where I was or how young I was, but I do remember the sweet smile and piloncillo-colored eyes of the lady who sold them to me; I remember her braided hair intertwined with yellow ribbons and can almost feel the touch of her hand as she handed me the white fluffy, shiny cloud on a thin piece of banana leaf. I remember trying it and loving it. Be sure to read the recipe all the way through before you begin. You can also choose to cut the nougat into pieces. In that case, spread the mixture with a moistened spatula over the banana leaf or a nonstick mat, allow to dry, and cut into the desired size.

Legend has it that this “happiness” candy got its name in the middle of the sixteenth century, when Fray Martín de Valencia prepared a mixture of puffed amaranth seeds and honey; when the indigenous people tried it, they were so happy they began to sing, dance, and play music like they did in many pre-Hispanic rituals and continue to do in the yearly alegría festival that takes place in Tulyehualco. Alegría remains one of the oldest candies in Mexico, but it is now made with sugar or honey and piloncillo. In the tropical climates of Veracruz, I tried some incredibly crispy ones, which really surprised me because of the humidity of the region; a man who has been making these treats for more than forty years told me that his trick was to add some glucose. This wonderful nutritious and historical candy is shaped into rounds or blocks and is often decorated with nuts, pumpkin seeds, and raisins, as I have done here.

I know you’re probably thinking, bean candy? That doesn’t sound too good. I was doubtful, too, but I was pleasantly surprised and excited about this wonderful recipe. I am deeply grateful to our dear family friend Amado for getting this recipe that came from his friend. The beans are cooked with cinnamon, puréed, and cooked again with orange juice and sugar. After awhile of stirring, the flavors begin to come together and a wonderful chest nutlike texture is achieved. The paste is then formed into balls and rolled in sugar. I love giving it to people to try and guess what the main ingredient is. Although only one person out of about thirty is able to guess, they all really like it. The original recipe is made with dark raisins, but I prefer to use currants.

As weird as it may sound, whenever I think of these, I think of the trunk of a car. You see, parked around the streets of Mexico City are numerous cars filled with towers of corn breads. Their trunks are open and there is a cardboard sign announcing the delicacies for sale. This particular recipe takes only a few minutes to prepare (plus baking time, of course) and the result is very tasty and moist. Enjoy a slice with a cup of cold milk or coffee.

Many desserts in Mexico are cooked on the stove and served on a platter at room temperature. This particular one is from the State of Mexico and is prepared for Día de los Muertos celebrations. You can find ground blue corn at many specialty markets or online (see Sources), or you can substitute it for the white variety.

The name gorditas is used in an endearing manner to describe many small but “fatty” (referring to the thickness) foods. Everyone loves gorditas, and there are many different kinds. I tried these in Nuevo Leon and love them because they are fried, which makes them (or me) double gordita. I also like them because of the salty cheese and piloncillo that make them go wonderfully with a hot chocolate (page 25) or champurrado (page 22).