Day 7: Today's Pick — Polvorones de Naranja, the Cookie I Have Been Mailing Cross-Country

My grandmother made polvorones every December and we kept eating them through January. Hers were almond-and-cinnamon. The polvorones I want to talk about today are orange-blossom, made by a panadería in San Antonio called La Esperanza, and they are — I am embarrassed to say it — better than my grandmother's.

(She's been gone for ten years. I think she'd allow it.)

What is a polvorón

A Mexican shortbread, traditionally pressed into rounds and dusted with powdered sugar. The crumb should melt rather than crunch. The flavor should be subtle. A good polvorón disappears in your mouth and leaves only the sense of "I would like another one."

What La Esperanza does differently

Two things, mostly:

1. Orange blossom water, not extract. The flavor is floral but not perfumey — it tastes like an orange tree, not orange-flavored candy.
2. Manteca, not shortening. Real lard, rendered in-house, gives the crumb its specific melt-on-tongue quality. It's the difference between a cookie that's good and a cookie you need to eat in private.

The shipping question

I have now shipped 14 boxes this year. The cookies arrive intact about 12 of those times. Two boxes had crumbling at the corners and the cookies were still excellent. La Esperanza ships them in a tin nested in shredded paper inside a corrugated box. They cost about $11 to ship coast-to-coast and take about three days.

How they sell

Open at 6 a.m. They post Instagram stories about which cookies are baking that morning. Polvorones are a Tuesday/Friday item. They sell out by 11:30 most days. You can't reserve. You can show up. You can also email the bakery the night before for a hold (they will sometimes do this for shipped boxes, depending on staff availability).

What I do with them

Eat them with coffee, mostly. Eat them after dinner, sometimes. Save one for a coworker who is having a bad day.

I am going to be honest about one thing: I have started buying these cookies as a way to perform care. I send a box to a friend who got a job rejection. I send a box to a friend whose dog died. The cookies have become a small ritual in my friend group, a sort of "I am thinking of you and here is something nice in the mail." There are worse things to be known for.

How to actually buy

La Esperanza Panadería, on the south side of San Antonio. Order via email or in person. They have a phone but the kitchen is loud and answering it is hit-or-miss.

Tomorrow: the most expensive (and worth it) salt I have ever bought.