Elvira's Polvorones (Spanish Shortbread)
It’s been established that I’m a nostalgic idiot. Even when I have absolutely no reason to feel nostalgia, I’ll find a way! I mention this only because I have no reason to feel emotional about baking Polvorones; yet, somehow, I do.Â
My family attributes this recipe to Elvira, my grandmother’s aunt. However, I’m sure someone many generations removed passed it on to Elvira. Prior to maybe four years ago, I had never heard of a PolvorĂłn. It’s not like my family baked them yearly or anything. But a few years ago that uncle that I keep mentioning asked my aunt for Elvira’s recipe for Polvorones and everyone over the age of forty flipped out. They got so excited.Â
It wasn’t until last year that either of us got our hands on Elvira’s recipe. And we both showed up to Christmas dinner with our own versions: mines standard, his chocolate. My grandmother’s cousin, Villita, and my great uncle’s wife, Bebita, ate maybe ten of them each. I felt like I had done something good for my family; brought out a piece of the past that everyone had forgotten.
A PolvorĂłn is a type of Spanish shortbread that is heavy, soft, and very very crumbly. The name – polvo- comes from the dusty consistency. There are countless ways to make them, and most Spanish speaking countries have their own versions, but as a whole they hail from AndalucĂa and are pretty simple. The recipe I have is very vague and not very helpful, but it gave me a good platform to start from. Bear with me as I make an already vague recipe even more so.
 Ingredients:
½ lb white lard (manteca blanca) – 1 used about 2 cups…because weighing lard isn’t my thing
1 egg
½ pound sugar – the recipe doesn’t specify what kind of sugar, so I used white granulated sugar and just used a lot… I didn’t bother measuring it.
“some” ground cinnamon
“some” ground cloves
“some” confectioner’s sugar (not part of Elvira’s recipe)
Elvira’s recipe is written in some archaic Spanish that I just don’t understand. I mean, she says to beat the lard with a fork until it creates a soft peak. Beat with a fork? No, I don’t understand those words. I used an electric beater. Â
Then her recipe says to add “some” ground cinnamon and “some” ground cloves, blending well. Then add the egg and the sugar. Blend well.  Now, I usually don’t have a problem with recipes that say “some”, but when you’ve got the memories of all your family members to live up to, the pressure is on and I want to know more! Especially considering I don’t have my own experience eating Polvorones, so don’t have a comparison.
Anyway, once the mixture is well blended, I started adding flour little by little as I mixed with a fork. Once a thick paste was created, I kneaded the mixture with my fingers, slowly adding flour, until the dough hardened. Then I rolled out the dough and cut out little cookies with a Cuban coffee cup.Â
I couldn’t remember how long I left them in the oven last year, so I baked my first batch at 350 degrees for 20 minutes, but ended up overcooking them. My second batch baked well for 18 minutes. While still hot, I dusted the cookies with some confectioners sugar and then packed them away.Â
I’ve been pretty slack with my baking this holiday season, but I felt I just HAD to make the Polvorones, at least. Neither Villita nor Bebita are around this year to gobble down ten Polvorones apiece. As their generation slowly disappears, I feel desperate to breathe life into the memories they once shared with my family, such as eating Polvorones on Christmas as children. Even if I don’t have any memories myself related to Elivra’s Polvorones, I know my family associates them with the people we love and have recently lost.  If I’m going to be a nostalgic fool, I might as well be in good company.Â











