Curious about other meanings of maleta, I went to my trusty diccionario de la lengua española (the Spanish version of the OED) and among the definitions I found were: backpack (in Cuba), a hunchback (also in Cuba), not having a clear sense of what one is doing (in Argentina and Uruguay), a person’s back (in Peru), sickness, person who performs a certain task with ineptitude, an untalented bullfighter, an evil person (in Guatemala), to be in a foul mood (in Chile).
I think you’ll agree with me that none of these make any sense, so we’ll stick to the Nica nonsense and keep referring to it as suitcase pie. Here are my two cents about it: Maybe since it’s a neat little package people used to put it in their suitcases when they traveled.
Aside from wondering where its name originates, I wanted to make pastel de maleta because I haven’t eaten it in at least twenty years, but the memory of it lingers. I have some several-times-removed aunts that own a bakery in Granada, the town my family is from, called El Condor. It is from this well-respected institution that the pastel I remember is from. I lust after their recipe, but it’s one of those top-secret, classified ones, and I may never come to possess it.
I had to make do with this version, which although didn’t attain Condoresque perfection, yielded very satisfactory results.
PASTEL DE MALETA
Adapted and translated from 50 años en la cocina by Angélica de Vivas
*(Please note that I have translated this verbatim and therefore may sound funny. I added notes in parentheses where I found necessary).
Crust:
2 C. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. granulated sugar
¼ C. butter (½ stick)
¼ C. lard
1 egg
Orange juice (to bind)
Combine and mix dry ingredients; incorporate the lard and butter, in the usual manner, till it’s divided into small particles; add the egg, mixing well; add orange juice as needed; extend dough on a floured surface, in a rectangular shape, ¼” – thick.*
(For those unused to “the usual manner”: whisk together the dry ingredients, then cut in cold butter and cold lard. You may use a pastry cutter or two knives for this purpose. Once the butter/flour/lard resembles small peas, add the egg and mix. Add the orange juice a teaspoon at a time to avoid over-moistening the dough. I would suggest rolling the dough into a ball, wrapping it plastic wrap, and allowing it to rest in the refrigerator about 30 minutes prior to rolling out).
Filling:
1 ½ lbs. pork butt
1 onion, in quarters
1 green bell pepper, in pieces
4 garlic cloves
salt + pepper
1/3 C. butter
1 large onion, minced
1 large red bell pepper, minced
3 eggs, hard-boiled and chopped
1/3 C. raisins
1/3 C. capers
2 TBSP. Worcestershire sauce
1 TBSP. granulated sugar
¼ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
salt, pepper, and chile to taste (I used sriracha in place of “chile”)
Boil the pork butt together with the 5 following ingredients (onion, green bell pepper, garlic cloves, salt & pepper); when it becomes soft, remove it and process it; strain and reserve the broth.
Melt the butter and fry in it the minced onion, the red bell pepper and the pork, for 5 minutes; add the remaining ingredients and mix well; add a bit of the reserved broth, if it’s drying out on you.
Spread the filling over the extended dough and roll it up like a “brazo gitano” (she means a jelly roll – we call a jelly roll a “gypsy arm.” Whoever came up with that one had quite the macabre imagination). Fold the ends inwards and seal them with a little bit of water; place it on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and varnish it (the roll) with 1 egg yolk beaten with 1 tsp. water; bake it at 350˚F, for about 1 hour.
It may be eaten hot, or at room temperature. (For 12 people).
(I suggest eating it at room temperature – it tastes so much better.)
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