Of all the things that a recent (and fantastic) mid-May trip to Santa Fe bestowed, my new-found love for the sopapilla may trump them all. For those of you other uninitiates, sopapilla is a square, buttered fried dough topped with smokey honey, and hopefully served piping hot and puffy just at the moment that you are about to faint from the heat of shoveling green chilies (another Santa Fe specialty) down your liquor-and-desert-parched throat. But frown not at the description of the sopapilla as fried dough! This is better than a doughnut and more glorious than funnel cake; the drizzled golden honey lends a nobility that powdered sugar just can’t muster, and the puffed layers of tender dough are more popover than cake.

Which begs the question, WHY HASN’T THIS BRILLIANCE HIT THE EAST COAST?

And, so, friends, future investors, and foodies, I present the latest and greatest scheme for capital appreciation:

¡Sopapilla!
A city street-corner storefront that, bolstered by an army of Mexican aunties, sleekster design, and gourmet honey, lets this southern cousin sing. A one-trick pony that needs no other tricks, ¡Sopapilla! will have the city-worn and drunk-munchy-begotten wrapped around the block day in and day out. Cupcakes are so 2006. The sopapilla is a sweet treat sans facade, down-home glory in its purest form: starch, fat and sweet. But carry-out food need not lead an unexamined life. Customers would choose from several flavors of plain or spiked butter (rosemary-lavender, candied orange peel, clove and cardamom) and a glowing panel of well-sourced honey. Who could say no to that? Interested investors, contact away– we’ll have this puppy up and frying faster than a back-up oil gasket blows.

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