Found in Translation: Cuernito, Chocolatín, and the Assimilation of French (or Viennese?) Bread into the Pan Dulce Culture

Fermented-layered dough part IV (and final)

Jul 04, 2020

In Mexico, among the pan dulce jargon, we commonly use the term “cuernito” as a traduction for the french “croissant”, but the truth is that cuernitos and croissants are two different kinds bread that have actually less in common than we attribute to them.

The cuernito and the croissant do not only differ in shape and baking technique —the first one tends to be more curved than the latter; and, in terms of preparation, the classic cuernito is made from brioche-type dough while the croissant is a laminated pastry—, they also come from different times and places (even though they may have common ancestors).

The iconic croissant, that has become an inseparable element of the French café culture in our globalized imageries, has a very short history in Mexico (by short, I mean around 15 years), while the cuernito has been part of the pan dulce repertoire since the beginning of the previous century.

Although surrounded by its own share of mythologies[1], the origin of the croissant in Europe is more clearly traceable than that of the predecessors to cuernito. According to the Oxford Companion to food, the first written recipe of the laminated-dough version of the crescent-shaped pastry, appeared until 1906, in Colombié’s Nouvelle Encyclopédie culinaire[2]. The more accepted origin of its invention is attributed to a Parisian bakery in Rue de Richelieu called Boulangerie Viennoise, somewhere between 1837 and 1839. The place was owned by a Viennese baker named August Zang and is said to have popularized the term “viennoiserie”[3].

The introduction of the croissant (or cruasán, in its Castillian traduction) in Mexico took a lot more years to happen. The first of its kind that I personally tried in the city —a little before the new wave of hipster European café/panaderías hit us—, was around the year 2006 (if I’m not mistaken), and it was sold at a small workshop/store located in front of the mercado de Medellin (If any of you know which place I’m talking about and remember the name, or any other previous or contemporary places to that one, where viennoiserie-type croissants were made, please let me know in the comments!).

The possible origin of the cuernito, though, is a lot more complex to determine since there is a wide variety of crescent-shaped types of bread that have long existed before the invention of the modern croissant: Selene, the Greek Moon goddess, is said to have been honored with cakes in this form[4], but it is until 13th century of our era, that the first ligüistic evidence of this family of bread was found in the Bavarian dialect: “Kipfel” or “Kipferl”. All through the east and south of this German/Austrian area, various translations of this bread-name appeared in different countries; but interestingly so, to the north, the word used for the same purpose translates to “horn” instead of “crescent moon”, and in most cases, also appears in its diminutive form, like the Polish “rogale” and “rogaliki”, or like the Czech “rohlíky” or “rohlíčky”. The Italian “cornetto” or “cornetti”[5] even though located to the south, is also part of that group. My theory (until otherwise refuted) is that this last bread could be the possible lost great-grandfather of our beloved metro station sandwich-favorite, cuernito. The reason why I think that, is because at least one of the most famous (still running) European style panaderías that opened in Mexico during the Porfiriato —when what we refer to as bizcochería (which encompasses all pan dulce) was developed—, was owned by an Italian family: El Globo.

It is also possible that El Globo, or another similar contemporary chain-panadería of its size and penetration, was responsible for translating the “pain au chocolat” (which was introduced to Mexico very close to the croissant) into “chocolatín” in the bizcochería language. This viennoiserie-type pastry —whose recipe is presented in this last installment of my “fermented-layered dough series”— is another interesting case of pan dulce assimilation, that differs from that of the croissant in that it involves a process that I will dare to call “cross-colonization”. First, the Spanish colonized Mexico, but then cacao, culturally conquered Europe. Brilliant sweets like the pain au chocolat were conceived from that European love of cacao; and many years later, presented in this new beautiful form, the pain au chocolat came to Mexico and won our hearts back. The name was not only difficult to pronounce, but the bread had already something in it that made it felt like ours, so I guess that’s why it was immediately adopted and re-baptized.

Something similar —but furthermore complex— happened with the now iconic, Chilango born, rollo de guayaba. For this pastry to exist, the encounter between many other forms of sweets had to be possible: dulce de membrillo (which was in turn inherited from a Medieval Arab fruit preservation tradition) became “ate”, ate met guavas, guavas met cheese, ate con queso met laminated pastry, and then they all became one happy family.

The last type of French pastry that I’m presenting for this series, the “kouign amann”, (a crusty, caramelized, soft & buttery on the inside, laminated pastry) constitutes the other side of the spectrum when it comes to pan dulce assimilation. Not only has this Breton-style bread not yet been translated into the pan dulce dictionary, but I haven’t even seen it in a Mexican panadería yet (the truth is, I haven’t explored panaderías lately as much as I did a while ago, so if any of you have seen it, please, also let me know in the comments). Like in other cases I’ve mentioned here, the exact origin of the kouign amann (which literally means “butter cake” in the Breton language), is also surrounded by its share of controversy, but one of the most accepted theories locates its invention in the town of Finistère, in the west of Brittany[6].

If this delicious pastry manages to sneak into the Mexican panadería culture, it will be interesting to witness what form and name will it take. Let’s wait and see…

[1] There is as legend commonly refed to as the origin of the croissant in many writings, that has no more factual proof than a couple of texts by Alfred Gottschalk; one that comes as a part of the definition of “croissant” in the first edition of the Larousse gastronomique (1938) and a subsequent one that appears in his own book (1948) on the history of food. Both texts attribute the invention of the croissant to a group of bakers that after being under siege by the Turk Ottomans, were inspired to create a pastry shaped like the crescent symbol on the enemies’ flag, but the recounts differ in time and place; the first one locates the incident in Vienna in 1683 while the second one says it happened in Budapest in 1686. Goldstein, Darra; Mintz, Sidney; Krondl, Michael. Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets. iBooks. Oxford University Press 2005. P. 386. [2] Davidson, Alan. The Oxford Companion to Food. iBooks. Oxford University Press 2006, 2014. P. 1886-1887. [3] Goldstein, Darra; Mintz, Sidney; Krondl, Michael. Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets. iBooks. Oxford University Press 2005. P. 387 [4] Scott Cunningham. Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Wicca in the Kitchen. Llewellyn Publications, 2009. P. 61 [5] Goldstein, Darra; Mintz, Sidney; Krondl, Michael. Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets. iBooks. Oxford University Press 2015. P. 385. [6]https://food52.com/blog/24655-kouign-amann-history

CHOCOLATíN

(Makes 12 pieces)

WHAT YOU NEED

Equipment:

A knife and/or a pastry cutter.
A tray.
Parchment paper.
A ruler or something to measure.

Ingredients:

Fermented-layered dough (recipe here).
Chocolate *If you can get the baton type chocolate for cocolatines, good for you. If not, yo can do like I did this time, buy any good quality confectionary chocolate (you find them at any supermarket on the flour area), and cut it in stripes with a hot knife, or even buy the chips for cookies and use those.
Egg wash.

Preparation:

Cut the dough in half and keep the other part in the fridge while you work.

Roll the dough into a rectangle of approximately 6x24 inches. Remember to leave space to cut the seams.

After cutting the seams all around, cut into 6 rectangles of 6x4 inches.

Roll the chocolate stripes into the rectangles (if you choose to use two stripes, roll in one first, and then the second one on the next turn).

Leave to rest on a warm and cozy place for 1 or 2 hours, or until the pieces double in size.

Pre-heat the oven at around 180*C.

Coat the chocolatines with egg wash, and bake for 16 to 18 minutes, or until the surface of the bread is golden.

Eat while the chocolate still melts in your mouth (just be careful to not burn yourself!)