The name “Mexican Wedding cakes” evokes images of festive celebrations south of the border, perhaps conjuring up visions of sun-drenched ceremonies and vibrant cultural traditions. However, the reality behind these delicate, powdered sugar-coated cookies is far more globally nuanced and historically intriguing than a simple moniker might suggest. Are “Mexican wedding cakes” truly Mexican? The answer, as it turns out, is a delicious journey through culinary history, spanning continents and cultures.
One of the earliest clues to the convoluted origins of Mexican wedding cakes lies in their striking resemblance to other traditional cookies from different parts of the world. Food historian Levy Beranbaum points to a compelling connection with kourambiethes (or kourambiedes), the beloved buttery Greek cookies. Visually, the similarity is undeniable – both are round, crumbly, and generously dusted with powdered sugar. However, kourambiethes often incorporate egg yolks and flavorings like brandy or orange juice, hinting at a distinct, yet possibly related, lineage. This connection opens up a fascinating pathway to explore the cookie’s ancestry, leading us eastward.
Kourambiethes themselves are believed to be related to an even older and widely popular Arab cookie known by various names, including qurabiya or ghraybeh, depending on the Arabic dialect. These cookies, in turn, are thought to be descendants of an ancient Arab treat called khushkananaj gharib. The term “gharib” translates to “peculiar” or “strange” in Arabic, perhaps alluding to the unique nature of these early cookies. Adding another layer to this intricate web, we find “kurabiye,” a Turkish term encompassing various types of shortbread biscuits, further solidifying the etymological link to ghraybeh and its related forms. Tracing back to the 10th century, Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq’s culinary chronicle, Kitab al-Tabikh, offers a glimpse into these ancient treats with a recipe for khushkananaj gharib. These early versions, made with flour, sugar, and sesame oil, were shaped into small domes before baking, though notably lacked nuts. Al-Warraq also documented a crescent-shaped variation incorporating ground almonds, bringing it closer to the ghraybeh cookies we know today. Across these cultures, from Greece to the Middle East, these cookies often find their place alongside a cup of tea, giving rise to the potential association with “tea cakes.” The geographical proximity of the Middle East to Russia raises another question: could there be a Russian connection?
The idea of a Russian origin for “Mexican wedding cakes” often revolves around the name “Russian tea cakes,” another common name for the same cookie. Food scholar Darra Goldstein suggests this name might have gained traction in the United States during the 1920s, a period marked by a significant influx of White émigrés fleeing Russia after the 1917 Revolution. During this era, Russian culture became associated with sophistication and elegance in the American imagination, fueled by the popularity of Russian ballet, caviar, and establishments like the Russian Tea Room in New York City. This association could explain the emergence of “Russian tea cakes” and even “Russian tea,” a beverage with tenuous links to actual Russian tea traditions, yet firmly rooted in Southern US culinary vernacular.
However, the timeline throws a wrench into the “Russian tea cake” theory as the original name. Some sources indicate that the term “Mexican wedding cake” did not appear in American cookbooks until the 1950s, suggesting it replaced the “Russian tea cake” amidst Cold War tensions and anti-Soviet sentiment. The theory posits a name change driven by political climate. Yet, Goldstein dismisses this Cold War-driven name alteration. She points out that dishes like Chicken Kiev and Beef Stroganoff, undeniably Russian in origin, maintained their names and popularity throughout the 1950s and 60s. This suggests that culinary naming conventions were not necessarily dictated by Cold War politics.
Intriguingly, evidence points to the existence of “Mexican wedding cakes” in American culinary landscape well before the Cold War and even before the Soviet Union’s involvement in World War II. A 1937 edition of American Cookery journal featured a reader’s request for a “Mexican Wedding Cakes” recipe, describing them as “small, round tea cakes, rather short, filled with nuts, and rolled in powdered sugar.” This pre-dates Cold War tensions by decades, effectively dismantling the theory of a politically motivated name change from “Russian tea cake.”
If not Russian, then are they truly Mexican? The narrative takes another turn towards Spain. Some sources propose that Spanish conquistadors introduced these cookies to North America, where they were known as polvorónes. The Spanish word “polvo” meaning “powder,” perfectly describes the powdery texture of these cookies. Polvorónes, typically flatter and larger than Mexican wedding cakes, are believed to have originated in Andalusia, Spain, in the 16th century and remain a cherished treat throughout Spain, particularly during holidays. This Spanish connection presents a compelling and geographically plausible link to the “Mexican wedding cake.”
In conclusion, the story of “Mexican wedding cakes” is a delightful tapestry woven from threads of Greek, Arab, Turkish, Spanish, and American culinary traditions. While the name might misdirect us towards a singular Mexican origin, the evidence suggests a far richer and more complex history. These powdered sugar-coated delights are likely descendants of ancient cookies, traveling across continents and cultures, adapting and evolving along the way. Whether you call them Mexican wedding cakes, Russian tea cakes, polvorónes, or kourambiethes, these cookies represent a delicious testament to the interconnectedness of global cuisine and the enduring appeal of simple, buttery, and sweet treats.
