Fried cakes: a popular passion
If there is a meal that defines us as Argentines, perhaps more than the asado or the pot, it’s the fried cakes. Of the other national dishes (excluding, perhaps, locro), I tried more or less similar variants in other latitudes of the planet. But not the fried cakes, I just ate them here. Now, what is its origin? And above all, why do they eat almost exclusively when it rains?By
researching a little I came to the fact that the origin, even if you don’t believe it, is German (against all odds, or perhaps against my own prejudices, I must admit that what surprised me most about German food is pastry). Anyway, it seems that the arrival to the shores of the Rio de la Plata is due to Spanish and Arab immigrants.
In today’s Germany this food is known as Kreppel (in Entre Ríos, province with a large colony German, I also heard this way of naming them some time or again). Either way, we have our own celebration: in Mercedes, province of Buenos Aires, the first weekend of April takes place the Provincial Festival of fried cake, where produces the largest in the country (and, I suspect, the world): three meters in diameter.
Why do you want to We eat fried cakes when it rains?
Here we already enter the realm of myth and speculation (the terrain I like the most, I must admit). It seems that the question of making them when it rains comes from Uruguay, at the time of the colony. Since drinking water was scarce, it was not spent much on this type of preparation, then the rainy days came with the gift of heaven: the women collected the rainwater and made the dough with it.
Finally, in case there is any Martian who never ate them, the recipe (at least mine, which my grandmother gave me, I imagine that every family should have his own): the flour is mixed with warm water and salt. Pancakes are formed (do not forget about the little hole and fry them in fat (never in oil, NEVER! ) .
Another familiar tip: before eating them, add a little lemon. A simple and rendorous delicacy.
Hipólito Azema nació en Buenos Aires, en los comienzos de la década del 80. No se sabe desde cuándo, porque esas cosas son difíciles de determinar, le gusta contar historias, pero más le gusta que se las cuenten: quizás por eso transitó los inefables pasillos de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras de la Universidad de Buenos Aires. Una vez escuchó que donde existe una necesidad nace un derecho y se lo creyó.
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