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As a New Mexican Catholic kid, I always assumed that the “manna from heaven” from the Exodus story must be something like sopapillas—soft and light, golden and fluffy, a little sweet, a little crispy, and satisfying all on their own. Truly, if manna were anything, it had to be sopapillas. Right?
Sopapillas, too, are a form of survival food. When thousands of New Mexican families found themselves living on land incorporated as a territory under the US government in 1850, many of them lost or were relocated from their lands and separated from their standard food sources, like beans, chile, squash, and corn.
So, our grandmothers got creative—how could they stretch what food they had, whether farm raised or government rationed, to feed their families and communities, especially in times of diaspora, hardship, and famine?
Why, sopapillas of course.
Calorie rich, easy and inexpensive to make with oil, shortening or lard, and flour, sopapillas are versatile and delicious as both entrée and dessert.
The sopapilla has a European ancestor in the Spanish and Portuguese sopaipa, which is also a fried-dough dessert. The spelling can vary regionally due to this root—sopaipilla vs. sopapilla.
The sopapilla’s Native American cousin is, of course, the similarly delicious and versatile fry bread. This makes the sopapilla a uniquely Southwestern food, born from struggle and shared traditions, and now beloved across cultures and state lines alike.
A plastic basket of sopapillas is often slipped onto the table halfway through a meal at a New Mexican restaurant. Here, my focus is on the stuffed sopapilla—less well known than the burrito, but nearly as ubiquitous, both in handheld and smothered form.
To pass my test, a sopapilla has to hold together while filled with beans and meat and blanketed with chile. But it should also be tasty on its own, so you can have one for dessert.
I am a bit biased though, because all of my favorite sopapillas are from Albuquerque. Sorry, Casa Bonita.
El Patio de Albuquerque
With lots of light, New Mexican art on the walls, corbeled chairs and tables, and a big viga in the middle of the room, dining at El Patio on Harvard feels like eating in a cozy New Mexican home.
True to its name, the spot has a spacious patio, and so does their newer, second location, El Patio Rio.
The recipe for their sopapillas is a little different from what I grew up with: El Patio’s sopapillas are round, a little thicker and crispier, and not quite as light and fluffy as the ones I ate as a kid in northern New Mexico.
They definitely hold up better than fluffier sopapillas under a generous smothering of hot chile, beans, and cheese, and they still taste great with honey and butter.
Differences in sopapilla spelling, preparation, and presentation are out there, but it’s how delicious they are that’s the really important part—and these are very delicious, so no worries there.
142 Harvard SE
505-268-4245
3851 Rio Grande NW
505-433-4499
Stufy’s
Stufy’s has been an Albuquerque favorite for over fifty years. And it’s easy to see—and taste—why.
Stufy’s sopapillas are handheld pockets of tastiness that are designed for you to take to go. Yes, you heard that right. Chile, cheese, frijoles, and crunchy lettuce in a little square package of fluffy fried dough for you to eat on the fly.
And that’s just the beginning.
Try a Stufy #11, with shredded chicken, green chile, and lettuce. I’m partial to green chile year-round, but especially this time of year—a.k.a. CHILE SEASON!
Or for breakfast, try a Stufy #12 packed with carne adovada, home-fried potatoes, and a scrambled egg.
Stufy’s is ready to go on all manner of adventures with you.
The Candelaria location is on my way to work, and I’m very happy about that.
1107 Candelaria NW
505-344-1207
1311 Juan Tabo NE
505-299-1860
El Modelo Mexican Foods
El Modelo feels like a not-so-well-kept Albuquerque secret, located in Barelas under the Bridge overpass.
When you’re heading up that long curve in the road and start smelling the tortillas cooking and sopapillas frying, you know you’re almost to El Modelo.
This staple of New Mexican cuisine offers more than just the standard fare. On top of enchiladas, tamales, red chile con chorizo, and menudo, they do red chile spare ribs and green chile brisket burritos, not to mention combo plates that allow you to try a little bit of everything.
But for a handheld parcel of scrumptiousness, the stuffed sopapilla is the one you want: crispy and golden fried dough loaded with red chile con chorizo, lettuce, tomato, and refried beans, and wrapped in paper for the road—or studio, office, Tingley Beach, really wherever your heart desires.
If you wanna do it right, get a cold Coca-Cola and a second sopapilla with honey, and eat them both in the parking lot.
1715 Second Street SW
505-242-1843
Duran Central Pharmacy
These sopas are versatile. Their crispy sweetness goes just as well with chile and beans and a fried egg on top as with criminal amounts of honey butter—exactly what it sounds like—and they’re also just fine plain.
I could eat a half dozen of these by myself. Speaking of, I will get a half dozen sopas to go, please.
Duran’s is my personal favorite of the bunch, and it’s only partly because of the sopapillas themselves, which taste almost identical to my nana’s.
When I was little, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother in her kitchen. It was a safe, calm space—except when she was using the pressure cooker to make frijoles. My favorite place to be was on a stool beside her, watching and smelling everything she made.
I get this same feeling when I eat at the counter at Duran’s, especially on Wednesdays and Fridays when sopapillas are on special.
The smells—coffee, frijoles, frying dough—all take me back to my nana’s kitchen. The ladies making sopapillas, who could be my tías or primas, are just visible from the counter if I lean forward.
When I bite into those crispy, sweet sopapillas with honey butter or chile and cheese, I taste home.
That’s what makes Duran’s my go-to spot. What’s yours?
1815 Central NW
505-247-4141
