Sopapillas with a side of honey for Better Results in a Home Kitchen

These fried dough pockets trace back to Spain, but they've found devoted followings across Latin America—in Argentina, Chile, and Peru, among other countries. Most of those regional takes lay flat, echoing buñuelos, while the Tex-Mex and New Mexican interpretations rise into voluminous, airy pillows.

What makes sopapillas so irresistible is their texture: a crisp exterior that shatters gently, giving way to a tender, slightly chewy interior built to hold generous drizzles of honey.

Growing up, desserts at our house meant whatever my grandmother baked—and that was always pie. So when we arrived at San Miguel's, I confidently assumed sopapillas wouldn't be part of our meal. Then our server appeared and casually asked if anyone wanted to try them.

The table went quiet. My family rarely orders dessert, and I bit my tongue rather than seem disrespectful to my grandmother's culinary legacy. My uncle, bless him, had no such hesitation. "We'd love some! " he announced, rescuing me from the internal battle.

We ordered a single small portion to share. That first bite of golden, honey-soaked dough brought unanimous agreement: sopapillas deserve every bit of praise they receive.

Despite having zero prior experience with sopapillas, I tracked down a recipe and quickly realized the technique was well within my skill set. Most versions rely on baking powder for lift, but I opted for a yeast-leavened dough instead.

Both approaches produce that characteristic rise when the dough meets hot oil. Personally, I find the yeast version delivers a deeper, more interesting flavor profile—and don't let the word "yeast" intimidate you; the method is straightforward even for beginners.

Some people dust theirs with powdered sugar, others pair them with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, but my favorite combination remains simple: a generous coating of cinnamon sugar followed by a steady stream of honey.

Whatever topping you choose, sopapillas represent pure Tex-Mex indulgence—effortless, satisfying, and worth the extra effort of making them yourself.

Begin by activating your yeast: combine it with warm water in a large mixing bowl and let it rest for five minutes until frothy.

In a separate bowl, whisk together flour and salt. Add softened butter and sugar to the yeast mixture, then gradually incorporate this wet blend into the dry ingredients, stirring until a cohesive dough forms.

Transfer the dough to a lightly greased bowl, cover it, and allow it to rise for approximately one hour—or until it has doubled in volume.

Once risen, press the dough down gently to release trapped air, then turn it onto a floured surface. Roll it out to a quarter-inch thickness and cut into three-inch squares. Slice each square diagonally to create triangles.

Pour three inches of oil into a heavy pot and heat it to 375°F. Working in batches, fry two triangles at a time for about one minute per side, flipping once, until each piece turns golden brown and inflates beautifully.

If your dough refuses to puff upon hitting the oil, the temperature has likely dropped too low—simply increase the heat and allow the oil to recover before continuing.