The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

Gorditas de maiz quebrado in Querétaro

by

Crayton and I decided last-minute to go to Querétaro this weekend, with our friends Jon and Ale.

We booked our hotel the morning we left, so I didn’t have time to research where we’d eat. Thank goodness for the Querétaro marketing machine — at one of the tourism kiosks in the Centro Histórico, I found a small pamphlet decorated with cookies that listed markets, restaurants and some of Querétaro’s typical foods.

The gorditas de maiz quebrado sounded particularly interesting. They were fried discs made of coarsely-ground masa, stuffed with either chicharrón — in Querétaro it’s called “migajas” — or cheese. A wallop of lettuce went inside. Chilangos, by comparison, don’t eat lettuce in their gorditas. The masa is smooth, the same as tortilla masa. As an aside, there are endless varieties of gorditas in Mexico. Some are baked, some are fried, some are sweet. Ricardo’s dictionary devotes 2 1/2 pages to explaining their differences.

Per the cute Querétaro tourism booklet’s recommendation, we hit the Mercado de la Cruz in the Centro Histórico. Eventually we found Gorditas El Guero y Lupita.

It was a madhouse. Every seat at the medium-sized puesto had been taken, with people sitting along the bar and crowded onto benches. A queue snaked between the register and the fryer, while the owner — El Guero himself — scribbled orders on small pieces of paper. Customers who’d finished eating cried out for more — “Seven more gorditas de queso!” — and El Guero wrote down those orders too, in a messy script.

Equally impressive were the women making the gorditas, who grabbed scoops of masa and stuffed them with cheese and chicharrón, patted them thin, and tossed them into the fryer. They were focused and quick, shaping the masa for only a few seconds before moving onto the next palm-full.

The gigantic fryer

That's masa in the large bowl, and cheese and chicharrón (migajas) in the buckets



Our gorditas arrived in about five minutes, gaping mouths full of lettuce. The masa was crisp, like a tortilla chip. I drizzled on a bit of salsa and took a bite — juice from the wet queso fresco inside dripped out one end. It was sloppy, but not heavy. Somehow the lettuce convinced me that I wasn’t eating anything greasy. And the cheese added just the right texture amid all the crunch.

No one talked for a good five minutes because we were all too busy eating. I wanted to order a few more, but we had to save room for carnitas for lunch.

If you’re ever in Querétaro, it’s definitely worth eating breakfast here.

Reader Interactions

Comments

    • I did try them in Bernal! We climbed almost to the top of the Peña and we stopped for one afterward, at a little stand where a woman with gray braids tended to a wood-fired comal. I was going to mention them in this post, actually. But I didn’t get a photo. They were fantastic. Completely different than the market gorditas. Very similar to a tlacoyo, in terms of being a masa cake that’s grilled and stuffed with something — but these were round and the fillings were more extensive. (Steak in adobo, picadillo, beans.) I’m loving the gordita variety in Querétaro.

  3. I’ve been wanting a Gordita-making lesson from my friend, Jazmin. I wonder how similar her mom’s recipe is to the ones you ate since there are so many ways to make them?

    • Hi Gaby: It depends on where her mom is from. If she’s from northern Mexico, they might be baked or the masa mixed with lard and salt. Or they could be larger and look more like tortillas, as they’re made in certain regions of Sonora. (This is all according to the dictionary.) The local chilango recipe is basically a ball of masa mixed with lard, stuffed with chicharrón, flattened and then fried. Then you cut it open and stuff it with all the goodies: crema, onion, cilantro. I’m craving one right now…. but instead I’m going to eat a salad.

    • I don’t, but Fany Gerson has a recipe for gorditas de piloncillo in her book, My Sweet Mexico. Did you mean fried sweet gorditas, or baked? Locally they sell gorditas de nata, which are kind of like sweet English muffins. I’ve been meaning to give them a try for awhile now, but I had a tough time tracking down nata. They’re wonderful in the morning with butter and jam.

  5. There is a tiny, ancient old woman who sells famous gorditas under the bridge here: http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=San+Miguel+de+Allende,+Guanajuato,+Mexico&aq=0&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=36.726391,74.882813&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=San+Miguel+de+Allende,+Guanajuato,+Mexico&ll=20.914449,-100.746574&spn=0.001333,0.002285&z=19&layer=c&cbll=20.914449,-100.746678&panoid=eGnCRlu-UswCz5N_qSViRA&cbp=12,353.59,,0,22.11

    It’s after Dolores Hidlgo turns starts to slope downhill, basically from the cathedral past the Starbucks until you see the bridge. She’s there afternoons and into the evening. I miss those things.

  7. Hi, Leslie,
    I have become an avid fan of your blog. My visits to Mexico have been limited to Tijuana, Rosarito and Cancun, but I love eating and cooking its food and hope to one day travel around the country. Your blog is giving me great ideas for where to go! Thank you and good luck.

    Chile Rosa

    • Thanks, Chile. I’m so glad you like the blog. Central Mexico is so different from Baja California and Cancún. (Actually, every region is distinct.) I’m happy I could give you some travel ideas!

  8. Those look so delicious. Seriously this post made me want to buy plane tickets! (not just for the gorditas, but for delicious Mexican food in general)

  9. Migajas is not chicharron, chicharron is pork skin fried and let dry, while migajas is the leftovers of carnitas (fried pork meat with coca-cola in Queretaro style)

    • Hi Jorge: When I asked El Guero at this stand what “migajas” meant, he said chicharrón. Also, not all chicharrón is dry — chicharrón prensado is meaty and moist, and so is chicharrón prensado.