I don’t know anything for certain but I believe that these tiny little miracles are a convenient off-shoot of the traditional pastel de tres leches: layers of spongy yellow cake soaked in three different dairy products—normally, condensed milk, evaporated milk and heavy cream—to enrich and sweeten and then topped with whipped cream, meringue or caramel, depending on the chef.
Big John Henry, my intrepid roommate, discovered them at one of our favorite local Colombian bakeshops. Bizarrely, this particular storefront, in addition to peddling various delectable yeasty, egg washed sweet breads, happens to make one of the best Cuban sandwiches in all of Queens and likely, all of NYC. The tiny nameless operation boasts a tiny nameless sandwich maker who presses to order each foot-long Cubano--packed with roast pork, sliced ham, pickles and gooey melted cheese--for a startling $3.50.
On one of John’s frequent visits to the press, he spotted the cookie, a new addition to the bakery shelves, and purchased one
I suspect that the Cuban sandwich woman makes them in small batches at home and sells them as a franchise operation out of the bakery. The fantasy cookies are encased in a plastic bubble and kept right beside her press, away from all the other goods—separate but equal—which suits me just fine; they’re only visible to those of us who come in seeking them. Short and sweet, crumbly and tender, two cookies diverged by a caramel wood and I took the one—oh wait, no that’s right, I took the whole damned thing.
They’re sizeable, so dense and rich you only need one, though you could probably put down three in a sitting. When I brought a box of four ($3) uptown to the old homestead, they were met with approval by my mother, a discriminating gastronome in her own right. I believe my father snuck the last one while the two of us were sleeping. Suppose I’ll just have to hit the bodega for tres more.
