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Pregnant Boroña

Pregnant Boroña

Cornbread, with the soul of a banquet

Updated on 24 April 2025
© asturias.com
Pregnant Boroña
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In the ancient kingdom that endured amidst cliffs, fogs, and eternal youth—the one called Asturias—boroña was eaten before gluten or the fear of cholesterol. Boroña was the poor man's bread, although now, as is often the case with humble dishes, it's served in restaurants with lordly prices and gourmet pretensions. And there are plenty of those who enjoy it in a wide glass of white wine, although it pairs better with a small glass of cider and a wooden spoon.


What is boroña? Well, it's more than just bread. It's a ritual. A cornbread —yes, from the corn that came from America and took root here as if it had always been from the place, like an Indian who returns with wealth—, kneaded with water and salt, baked slowly and filled, on its big days, with sausages: chorizo, bacon, pancetta... and that traditionally it was baked all night, well wrapped with chestnut leaves and on top, cabbage leaves... It was made "without preñal-" for daily or "pregnant" for Easter Day.

The important thing is to use a quality filling and cook it slowly in the oven or over firewood.

It should not be confused with its Galician cousin, the millo bolla, nor with any substitute without fat or stew. The Asturian boroña is coarser, more resounding. It does not seek to flatter, but to fill. Of its origin, just enough is known. —like the one in good proverbs—but it is a well-established tradition that it was baked even in the centuries of scarcity, when wheat was a luxury reserved for masses and notary papers. Corn, on the other hand, was well-suited to poverty and grew well in meadows overlooking the Sueve or Aramo rivers.

Cornflour also has the virtue of lasting. In fact, some say it's better reheated, with the fat already settled, as if time has improved it, which can't be said of many loves or most politicians. It is eaten during holidays, especially Easter - Easter Sunday at the end of Lent -, when the villages come alive and the houses smell of real fire. There is no peasant celebration without boroña, and there is no boroña without its altarpiece: it is placed in the center of the table as it used to be placed for grandfathers—with respect and a certain quiet veneration.

Today, some restaurants serve it with fake glamour, but the authentic boroña is the one eaten at an aunt's house in Bimenes, or in the meadow after a pilgrimage with bagpipes. It's not sophisticated, but it has soul. And as my uncle Severino, who ate boroña even during Lent, used to say: "This is what kept us going when there was nothing, and what makes us happy when there is everything.".


Text: © Ramón Molleda for asturias.com Copyright Ramon Molleda




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