Alfajores

are the new food loves of my life.

Alfajores are from Argentina. Flo's mom brought half a dozen boxes with her from Cordoba as she has been visiting this past week.

The first month that we arrived in San Sebastian, Flo and I stumbled on a coop in the city that happened to sell alfajores. At first, Flo went wild, but her enthusiasm and excitement fell away fast when she proclaimed them terrible and far from the real thing. (I, of course, devoured mine). Flo told me to "just wait" until her mom got here.

And oh, the authentic, true alfajores were unveiled this evening (at 1:00 AM) following two services of 80 people each (we hosted a major wine tasting event) and they were (and are!) glorious.

Alfajores are like a cookie sandwich. The cookies are made from a cornstarch base, are dry and fall apart with just the slightest pressure of your teeth. I know that hardly sounds appetizing, but really, these two cookies serve just as a vessel for the thickest dulche de leche known to man. Velvety and smooth, it takes its time in your mouth, coating every inch of it like the way hot tar covers a newly paved road.

These alfajores were individually wrapped in silver like little gifts and dusted with a significant amount of powdered-sugar on all sides. Look at Julia's face taking one down! She registered pure bliss.