One of my most cherished and early childhood memories is waking up early. My father would drop my sister and me off at school, and I would have to wait about an hour before I could enter the classroom. Instead of feeling bored or restless in the car, my father would take me to a nearby Sanborns. There, he’d buy me a warm cup of hot chocolate and a small treat — an intimate morning ritual that brought comfort before the busy day ahead. Soon, I discovered the most valuable secret on the menu: delicious donuts. So every day, I’d order my hot chocolate along with a chocolate donut. No surprise that I often dozed off during the afternoon classes — my sugar crash was a small price to pay for those mornings of quiet joy. We never minded. Those moments became a treasured tradition, woven into the fabric of my childhood.
Fifteen years later, that morning routine — the quiet companionship and simple pleasure — faded into memory. Until one day, during my final high school exams, I found myself back at that same Sanborns, this time because my father wanted to discuss my career choice and my future. As we sat in silence, waiting for our order, the waiter approached and gently placed a plate before me. She said simply, “Your donut and your hot chocolate.”
I couldn’t hold back tears. Tears of nostalgia, of gratitude flowed, over how a small gesture could carry so much meaning. That act marked the end of my school years, yes, but also a beautiful beginning. It was a reminder of the mornings with my father, of unconditional love, comfort, and shared tradition. But it was also a testament to the universality of such rituals — the quiet, meaningful acts that subtly tie us to those we love, no matter how much we change.
To me, Mexican donuts, or “donas normales” as I called them, hold a unique place in my heart because of that story. But I am sure many Mexicans have their own tales — stories of love, family, and cultural continuity rooted in pan dulce. Whether it’s a childhood breakfast ritual, a holiday tradition, or a heartfelt act of giving, these breads and treats are woven deeply into our lives in ways words often cannot fully express.
Pan dulce — sweet bread — is more than a mere pastry; it is a vital thread in the fabric of Mexican identity. While pastries are celebrated globally, Mexico’s pan dulce possesses a charm that goes beyond flavor. It embodies regional pride, daily routines, and shared histories. One of the most intimate acts is recalling a loved one’s favorite bread and surprising them with it. Pan dulce isn’t just a snack — it’s a symbol of love, tradition, and connection. It’s so cherished that it even finds a place during the Day of the Dead — not just with pan de muerto, but with the specific bread loved by the departed, a small tribute to their memory.
But how did this humble staple become such an intrinsic part of Mexican culture, especially in a country renowned for maize, chili, and beans? The answer lies in history — a story of adaptation, fusion, and resilience.
Bread in Mexico
Initially, the lands that form modern Mexico had no native wheat, no established baking techniques, and no yeasts. These were introduced by the Spanish conquistadors, an infusion from distant Europe that would eventually reshape the country’s culinary landscape. Today’s flavors, textures, and innovations are the result of continuous technological progress and a dynamic fusion of local and foreign ingredients.
During the 19th and early 20th centuries, indigenous techniques and local raw materials blended with Spanish, French, and Portuguese techniques to give rise to distinct flavors and bread forms that bore no European parallel. The era of Porfirio Díaz marked an important transition — industrialization brought commercial ovens, standardizing many popular bread shapes and recipes. More importantly, the French influence that Díaz so admired played a major role. Mexican bakeries began to adapt French bakery traditions, transforming croissants into cuernitos and creating new forms such as gendarmes, which resembled the hats of French soldiers.
These innovations democratized what was once an elite privilege — sweet bread became accessible to the masses, especially in urban areas. It was no longer reserved for aristocrats or the wealthy; it became part of daily life for millions of Mexicans across classes and regions.
Pan Dulce
By the 20th century, sweet bread was a regular feature at breakfast and special occasions alike. There’s no specific “time” for enjoying pan dulce — its consumption varies according to family customs. My maternal grandparents, for example, would break their fast with pan dulce — be it a concha, doughnut, or pan de elote — and sometimes they also enjoyed it in the evening as a merienda, a small light dinner. Over generations, the ritual of enjoying pan dulce has become a shared comfort, a universal act that unites families and communities, memed, loved and glorified as only a national staple can be.
Moreover, pan dulce plays a crucial role in our most significant holidays and traditions. During Día de Muertos, families offer sweet breads — sometimes decorated or shaped — alongside flowers and photos of loved ones, as a gesture of remembrance and love. During Navidad, the classic Rosca de Reyes becomes a family centerpiece, evoking joy and camaraderie, while also preserving an ancestral custom that links us with centuries of religious and cultural history.
A classic that endures
Even as new bread varieties emerge and trends shift, the classics remain steadfast. Conchas, marranitos, ojo de buey, garibaldis, corbatas, orejas, rebanadas de mantequilla, rosca de sal, piedra, chilindrinas, mantecadas, and abrazos, novias, gendarmes, panquecitos, hojaldres, abanicos, or espejos to name a few, each with its own story, shape, and regional twist. Every neighborhood bakery has its secrets — a recipe handed down through generations, a special ingredient or technique that elevates their version.
Regional diversity further enriches this tradition. In Yucatán, you might find pan mamul; in Michoacán, pan de flor; in Guanajuato, acambaritas; and in Tlaxcala, pan de pulque. These variations showcase how local ingredients and cultural influences create a vibrant mosaic of flavors and forms, making Mexican pan dulce a culinary national treasure.
Preserving a living tradition
Today, many voices warn us about the health implications of sugar and bread. Yet, these small acts of buying a warm marranito or pan de elote are more than mere indulgences. Mexican pan dulce is a quiet celebration of life’s simple joys shared over breakfast tables, during holidays, or in moments of reflection.
So, I invite you: Support your local bakery, learn the stories behind each bread, and savor the moments they create. Because each piece of pan dulce carries a fragment of Mexican history — a story of love, resilience, and the unbreakable link between generations. And in those small, sweet bites, we can taste the richness of our shared culture.
María Meléndez is a Mexico City food blogger and influencer.
