By Eugenio Amézquez Velasco
Host: José Luis Revilla Macías
Camera: Silvestre León and Manuel Cortez Martínez
Translation: Guanajuato Desconocido
-The heritage of six generations in Comonfort evokes a past of flour-dusted hands and the human warmth that founded our nation.
-Artisan bread is not merely food; it is the social fabric that sustains the identity of towns against the oblivion of modernity.
-The tradition of the Centeno family represents the cultural resilience of Guanajuato, where wheat tells stories of the Colonial era.
The memory of a town is not kept in textbooks, but in the crunch of a campechana and the heat of an oven that never goes out. In Comonfort, Guanajuato, "fruta de horno" (oven fruit) is more than a picturesque name; it is a whisper from the past that survives the passage of centuries, reminding us of a time when one’s word was gold and bread was shared with the neighbor as an act of faith.
To speak of the Centeno family is to speak of the backbone of our identity. With six generations on their shoulders, this artisanal trade transports us to Old New Spain, where wheat displaced corn in the fields of the Bajío. Fruta de horno is a perfect cultural fusion: the Spanish technique of milk bread and puff pastry merged with the hardworking soul of the indigenous and the mestizo. It is a reminder that we are the children of a fierce, yet noble, mixture.
In these times of immediacy and plastics, evoking the figure of Don Evaristo "El Güero" Centeno is to return to the transparency of good people. His legacy, now guarded by hands like Carmelita’s, represents that yearning for when commerce was a service to the community and not a cold transaction. Seeing the oven lit, smelling the aroma of the polvorón and the freshly baked empanada, is a refuge against dehumanization.
The cultural impact is profound: fruta de horno is not sold through marketing; it is offered through tradition. From the Doctor Mora square to the tricycle routes through the communities, the bread seeks out the people. It is the pedagogy of effort; knowing that for a "vaquita" or a "gasnate" to reach one’s mouth, there was first a manual rolling of the dough—an honest sweat before the heat of the wood fire.
Today, fruta de horno remains a stronghold in Comonfort. In a world that sometimes seems to lose its way between fake news and soulless technology, this bread brings us back to the earth. It tells us that "sorrows are less with bread," but if that bread carries the flavor of 150 years of history, those sorrows simply dissolve into the nostalgia of a Guanajuato that refuses to die. It is a fitting tribute to the resilience of our people, to the beauty of simplicity, and to the hope that, as long as there is a lit oven, there will be community.
Volován is a word of French origin. It is a loanword from the French vol-au-vent (literally meaning "flight in the wind," in reference to the lightness of the puff pastry). When Hispanicized, the Royal Spanish Academy (RAE) registered it with a "v" and an accent on the last syllable.
The voice of tradition in the Comonfort workshop
José Luis Revilla Macías:
Good morning. Thank you, Carmelita, for receiving us here in the bakery-workshop, the place where the *fruta de horno* is made. There is an expression I like: they say "sorrows with bread are less."
Carmelita Centeno:
Less.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
And even more so if it is fruta de horno. It is fruta de horno. This pastry is a pride of Comonfort’s gastronomy and is a business that encompasses—or has been developing—six generations. If we consider a generation to be approximately twenty-five years, we are talking about six generations, nearly one hundred and fifty years making different varieties of bread in various places. Even one of Carmelita's brothers in Texas makes fruta de horno there. We are very happy because it is a source of pride; you know the history of this "Pueblo Mágico" from many years ago, where you say you are going to show off the fruta de horno to the federal tourism authorities, and there Carmelita wins over the entire evaluating committee so that Comonfort could be named a "Pueblo Mágico." It’s a very beautiful story that we will discuss in detail another day.
So, how could we not pay a just tribute, a just recognition to the Centeno family? Thank you. I had the chance to meet your father, Don Evaristo, "El Güero" Centeno, a leader in Comonfort’s commerce and always in solidarity with the causes here. So, Carmelita, thank you for welcoming us. We are very happy. Every day fruta de horno is made, every day it is sold. Is it sold, Carmelita? How is the fruta de horno made? We can see the oven lit behind the cameras.
Carmelita Centeno:
The oven is lit, yes, exactly. Here behind the cameras is the mixer where the dough is made. Afterward, it is rolled out by hand and the small "tortillas" are made for the *vaquitas*, for the *volovanes*; the little "hats" are placed on top, and everything is done manually. It is an artisanal labor.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
Artisanal. And do you have savory pastries?
Carmelita Centeno:
Savory and sweet.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
And sweet.
Carmelita Centeno:
For savory, I offer the *vaquitas*. The volován is sweet and savory; it’s filled with picadillo (minced meat) and has a "cap" of sugar on top. And for sweet, I offer campechanas, polvorones, pineapple empanadas, sugar empanadas, coronitas, ojos de atolito, and gasnates —which are the little tubes, like a type of fritter with atole on the ends—and the trocantes. Those are like little cakes, a slice of cake but made with milk bread and filled with atole. Those are the varieties we offer, and they are made every day and sold every day.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
Aha.
Carmelita Centeno:
From Monday to Sunday, from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon. And in the square, it is only sold on the weekends—Sundays from nine in the morning to eight at night in the Doctor Mora square.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
Doctor Mora, right where the San Francisco parish is—an extraordinary building, the most valuable building we have here in Comonfort. Right there on the corner of the square.
Carmelita Centeno:
And we are on a tricycle.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
And then I’ve seen you walking through the streets too.
Carmelita Centeno:
Oh, that’s because on Thursdays and Fridays I go out; since my sister stays selling there in the garden, I go for a walk through the streets or I go to the outlying communities.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
You bring the bread right to their mouths.
Carmelita Centeno:
Exactly. With a little cart, I go selling in the communities and here in the center.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
You see, friends, there is nothing like trying the fruta de horno. Sorrows with bread are less, and even less so with fruta de horno. Very well. Just as once they had me making salsa in a Comonfort molcajete, here Nancy tells me, "well, grab the rolling pin and get to it too." Well, I’ve washed my hands and here I am working the dough. This is a cultural project called "Raíces de Comonfort" (Roots of Comonfort), and with this project, we seek to promote all the elements that are the pride of Comonfort. We are very happy that you received us.
Carmelita Centeno:
On the contrary, thank you for allowing us to be here with you.
José Luis Revilla Macías:
And we wish a long life to the fruta de horno—another six generations more. We must live them. Thank you very much. How could we not take advantage of Carmelita's trust and kindness to try the fruta de horno? Truly, we are surprised by the enormous variety. She makes them for events of all sizes, even tiny ones. And well, it’s worth noting that in the Colonial era, more wheat was produced than corn. From there comes a heritage influenced by the Spaniards who arrived and who—well, through blood and fire and many other things—but finally, in that mixture, we came with our culture, our traditions, our saints, and festivities. And one of those things, this pride of Comonfort, is the *fruta de horno*. So, truly, thank you very much. With bread.
Carmelita Centeno:
Thank you very much.
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