Cubiletes de Grazalema
One of my favorite, “only in Grazalema” treats is a cubilete with my morning café con leche. It’s a unique local culinary tradition with a rich history. Below is the English translation of the wonderful blog post by Diego Martínez Salas describing this sweet and the story behind it.
Below is the link to his original post with photos. Also, his entire blog, “Raices de Grazalema”, has a wealth of information about this “Pueblo Blanco” that Alfredo and I love so well.
— David Eugene Perry
Cubiletes de Grazalema
The recipe we are about to transcribe is what we can call the old or Filomena recipe. This formula is the same one used in the first third of the 19th century, in the workshop and mill that Ana Marín maintained in the house on the corner of Calle Las Piedras and Calle Portal. This was subsequently inherited by her daughter, Catalina Palacios, and her granddaughter Ana Ruiz, who finally passed down the confectionery tradition to her daughter-in-law, Filomena Organvídez Sizuela.
From the 19th century also come the recipes for *amarguillos* and sesame cakes, which can be considered the most genuinely Grazalema sweets due to their age. Anita Ramos, Francisca Barea, and Rosario Moreno also made “cubiletes”, and today, the Narváez and Chacón families continue the tradition of these pastry makers.
After the Civil War, this type of shortbread began to be known outside of Grazalema. In these years, Filomena and Antonio Salas kneaded up to 800 *cubiletes* daily, which were packed in tins of 100 units and were distributed from the *ventas* of the Sierra to the Sevillian neighborhood of San Bernardo.
In the years when necessity was pressing, many Grazalema residents toured the taverns and bars of the mountain villages, carrying bags of a dozen *cubiletes* that they raffled off among the patrons. The raffle was carried out in the old-fashioned way, by selling cards from a Spanish deck. The lucky one with the chosen card from a deck, picked by an innocent hand, would take home a dozen of these precious shortbreads that night.
The “cubiletes” were filled with “cabello de ángel” (angel hair squash) or with pieces of melon incorporated when making the syrup from the citron. They were also filled with sweet potato paste, which was the most appreciated.
Ingredients:
– ½ kg of lard
– 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
– 1 kg of sugar
– 1 kg of flour
– 1 ½ tablespoons of baking powder
Knead until the right consistency is achieved (the lard needs to be slightly heated to knead properly), and fill the *cubiletes*, adhering a layer of dough to the walls of the mold. Add the filling and cover with a thin layer of the same dough. Bake for half an hour.
For anyone who’s feeling adventurous, here’s the old Grazalema recipe for Sweet Potato Paste, with which the *cubiletes* were filled.
Ingredients:
– ½ kg of sweet potatoes
– 350 g of sugar
– 1 lemon
Preparation:
In a pot with plenty of water, cook the sweet potatoes. When they are tender, remove the skin and mash them. In another container, put the mash, lemon zest, and stir while heating until it loses moisture and thickens like a jam, separating from the walls of the container.
For the more daring, here’s also a recipe for *cabello de ángel* (angel hair squash).
Ingredients:
– Citron
– Sugar
– Lemon zest
Cut the citron into pieces, remove the skin, and cook for 20-25 minutes until the pulp is tender. Drain and let cool, removing the seeds and strands from the squash. Reheat, if possible in a copper pot, and when it begins to boil, add the same amount of sugar as citron, stirring over low heat for about 55 minutes. Finally, add the lemon zest and stir for a few more minutes until it’s fully integrated into the *cabello de ángel*.
From those childhood days, I remember the image of my grandmother Filomena, always affectionate, kind, and gentle, kneading and making the sweets with her thin hands, in full view of her grandchildren who watched the process as something magical. She, and so many of our Grazalema grandmothers, acted with a natural simplicity that gave her a spirit of elegance, difficult to emulate today. I also cannot forget the gatherings around the large clay mixing bowl where the dough was prepared, or the meetings at the table where the *cubiletes* were wrapped, under the loving gaze of my grandmother, while her daughters Ana, Isabel, Antonia, Susi, Mamen, and Ángeles sang traditional songs of our land.
—- by Diego Martínez Salas