← Back to Blog

Torcetti — The Shape of Every Morning at Pandería Rosa

Concha the dog sleeps under the counter. The customers pet him when they come in. Doña Esperanza brings him treats. He is old now — twelve, thirteen — and his sleep is longer and his energy is shorter and the trajectory is the trajectory of all beloved things: the best ones wear down slowly, gracefully, in the company of the people who love them. Concha is wearing down. We are watching. We are loving. The wearing and the loving are the same.

The small Mexican-cooking-tradition runs through the small kitchen-and-bakery. The small mole, the small chiles rellenos, the small tamales-at-Christmas, the small posada-foods, the small Three Kings Day rosca. The small recipes have come down through four-and-five generations of the small Gutierrez-Hernandez women.

The small El Paso-Juárez border-cousin-network continues. The small Juárez-side of the family (Maria Elena’s mother’s family) crosses the small bridge for the small family-events. The small cross-border family-life has been the small constant. The small post-Carlos-killing has changed the small relationship to the small Juárez-side.

The five children: Carlos (the small eldest) had been killed in Juárez in 2008 at age 19 in the small cartel-violence. The small loss is the small permanent-wound. The small four-surviving-children are: Roberto Jr. (now 38, runs the small bakery’s wholesale operation, married with three kids), Elena (now 35, a small ER nurse, married with two kids), Mateo (now 32, a small high school teacher, married with one kid), and Sofia (now 28, the small bakery’s manager, engaged).

The small Panadería Rosa in the small downtown El Paso continues to be the small business. The small bakery operates from four AM to six PM six days a week. The small pan dulce, the small empanadas, the small bolillos, the small conchas are the small daily-product. The small bakery is the small Maria Elena and Luis Gutierrez inheritance from Maria Elena’s parents.

The five children: Carlos (the small eldest) had been killed in Juárez in 2008 at age 19 in the small cartel-violence. The small loss is the small permanent-wound. The small four-surviving-children are: Roberto Jr. (now 38, runs the small bakery’s wholesale operation, married with three kids), Elena (now 35, a small ER nurse, married with two kids), Mateo (now 32, a small high school teacher, married with one kid), and Sofia (now 28, the small bakery’s manager, engaged).

The small twelve-grandchildren are the small joy-of-the-small-final-third-of-life. The small grandkids cycle through the small Sunday-bakery-and-Maria-Elena-house from morning to evening. The small intergenerational kitchen runs on the small Sunday.

The small Mexican-cooking-tradition runs through the small kitchen-and-bakery. The small mole, the small chiles rellenos, the small tamales-at-Christmas, the small posada-foods, the small Three Kings Day rosca. The small recipes have come down through four-and-five generations of the small Gutierrez-Hernandez women.

Luis (the small husband) operates the small bakery’s production side while Maria Elena runs the small front-of-house and the small recipe-development. The small forty-year-relationship (married against both small families’ wishes) has been the small life-partnership. The small Javier-loss in 1993 had been the small permanent wound the small family carries. The small marriage-survived.

The small El Paso-Juárez border-cousin-network continues. The small Juárez-side of the family (Maria Elena’s mother’s family) crosses the small bridge for the small family-events. The small cross-border family-life has been the small constant. The small post-Carlos-killing has changed the small relationship to the small Juárez-side.

Luis starts the ovens before I unlock the front door, and by the time the first customers arrive, something is always already baking — always something twisted, something that has been shaped by hand, something that takes more patience than skill. These torcetti are not Mexican, no, but they are what I think of when I think about the kind of baking that keeps a family together: a dough you shape without rushing, a shape you repeat until your hands know it without looking. Concha sleeps under the counter. The oven is warm. Some mornings that is enough.

Torcetti

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 43 min | Servings: 36 cookies

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar, divided
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cold, cut into small cubes
  • 1 packet (2 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast
  • 1/4 cup warm water (about 110°F)
  • 1 large egg yolk
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • Zest of 1 lemon
  • 1/2 cup coarse or pearl sugar, for rolling

Instructions

  1. Proof the yeast. Combine the warm water, yeast, and 1 teaspoon of the granulated sugar in a small bowl. Stir gently and let sit for 5 to 7 minutes, until foamy.
  2. Make the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, remaining granulated sugar, and salt. Work the cold butter into the flour mixture using your fingertips until it resembles coarse crumbs with pea-sized butter pieces remaining.
  3. Combine wet ingredients. Add the proofed yeast mixture, egg yolk, vanilla extract, and lemon zest to the flour-butter mixture. Mix until a soft, slightly sticky dough forms. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead gently for 2 minutes until smooth. Do not overwork.
  4. Rest the dough. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 20 minutes. This makes shaping easier and keeps the butter cold for a flakier result.
  5. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Spread the coarse sugar in a shallow dish.
  6. Shape the torcetti. Pull off walnut-sized pieces of dough (about 1 tablespoon each). On a lightly floured surface, roll each piece into a rope about 5 inches long and 1/2 inch thick. Form each rope into a teardrop loop, pinching the ends together firmly to seal.
  7. Coat in sugar. Roll each shaped loop in the coarse sugar, pressing gently so the sugar adheres to all sides. Place on the prepared baking sheets, spacing about 1 1/2 inches apart.
  8. Bake. Bake for 16 to 18 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the torcetti are golden on the bottom and the sugar is lightly caramelized. The tops will remain pale — that is correct. Do not overbake.
  9. Cool. Transfer to a wire rack and cool for at least 10 minutes before serving. The texture firms as they cool, becoming crisp outside and tender within. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 72 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 18mg

Maria Elena Gutierrez
About the cook who shared this
Maria Elena Gutierrez
Week 537 of Maria Elena’s 30-year story · El Paso, Texas
Maria Elena was born in Ciudad Juárez, crossed the border at twenty with nothing but her mother's recipes in her head, and built a life in El Paso one tortilla at a time. She owns Panadería Rosa, a tiny bakery named after the mother who taught her that cooking is prayer and waste is sin. She has five children, a husband who chose the family over the beer, and a stack of handwritten recipes that she guards like sacred text — because they are.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?