Tarán!... llegaron los pastelitos de guayaba

They were delicious. They were extremely sweet. The pastry was toasty, crunchy, with a light buttery flavor. The smell, OMG!, that Cuban smell took over my great room (kitchen, living room, dining room and office), and it lasted almost the whole day.

I know I went above and beyond con la guayaba, but they were sooooooooooooooooooooo GOOD.
You know whom I'am talking of, don't you?
Please, roll the red carpet, porque los pastelitos de guayaba llegaron a Colorado.

Marta, from California, we owed you all the copyrights, but the recipe was too tempting to go into ethical considerations.

Yesterday, I finally decided we'll forget dieting, and all the "going back to you pre-pregnancy weight" stuff to try the recipe I've discovered a few weeks earlier in Marta's My Big Fat Cuban Family.

So I went to King Soopers, chased an employee through three isles, asked him if they have the PepperRidge Farm puffy pastry sheets (I had it written in a corner of my reporter's notebook, so misspellings couldn't get in the way between my so dreamed pastelitos and I), he took me to the freezer and... I saw the cute white boxes with red letters. Bingo!

Then, went to La Tienda Amarilla (the official name is Wholesale Food Outlet and it's basically packed up with Mexican food, but after a few explanations about Cuban desserts to a very nice young woman that works there, and some special orders, now it's also packed up with GOYA products) and bought my guayaba. Two packs, just in case I mess up one.

Finally, yesterday afternoon, my kitchen goes like this:

• Yo: Nicolás, cómete el puré, no te metas los dedos en la boca cuando estás comiendo...
• Mi mamá: ¡Muchacho, no hales más el mantel que le vas a acabar el centro de mesa a tu madre!.. Él lo que tiene es sueño, por eso se está dando tanta lija para comer...
• Mi esposo: Mami, ¿falta mucho para el almuerzo?
• Mi mamá: Iván, ¿te frío un bisté?
  
• Iván: No suegra, que seguimos con la dieta de la sopa y la ensalada (¿?) Mami, ¿qué es eso que huele a plástico quemado?
  
• Yo: Papi, no se quema nada, es que acabo de encender el horno para hacer los pastelitos de guayaba, de la receta que te dije que encontré en el blog de la señora cubana que vive en California...
• Iván y mami, los dos al mismo tiempo: ¿!Qué!? !!!¿Pastelitos de guayaba?!!!

Y se hizo la luz.
And the light —in the form of golden pastelitos de guayaba— was made.

Now we're all with a very unconfortable burnt tongue, because we couldn't wait for the pastelitos to cool off after I took them out of the oven.

Voilá! It was like Prom for my oven.

First time in almost two years that I've used it.
(FYI, in Cuban houses in the U.S. —because in houses in Cuba they barely have a stove, nor they are going to have an oven— the oven is a very loved gadget. It works perfectly to hide the ugly pots where we fry the platanitos maduros, and it is also wonderful to the plátanos to ripen, before we fry them in the "always-hidden" pot.)

PepperRidge Farm guys... where are you? Where can we light you a candle.