The ‘Misk’inchas,’ the ‘alchemists’ of Carnival sweets in the Llajta | Las ‘Misk’inchas’, las ‘alquimistas’ del dulce de Carnaval en la Llajta

By Violeta Soria, Opinion:

The art of confectionery in the Llajta has a name: the “Misk’inchas.” This is a family of experienced artisans who keep the tradition and legacy alive in the making of confites and all varieties of misk’i bolas in Cochabamba.

El arte de la confitería en la Llajta tiene un nombre, las “Misk’inchas’./ NOÉ PORTUGAL
The art of confectionery in the Llajta has a name: the ‘Misk’inchas.’ / NOÉ PORTUGAL

A passage from the past hidden in the heart of the Cochabamba town of Quillacollo, named Atacama, where lanterns still light the road traveled by time, welcomes the “Misk’inchas,” the ladies of sweets in La Llajta.

These are experienced and skilled women, mostly from the Borda family, dedicated to the exclusive production of traditional sweets in the Cochabamba valley.

Their hands, with recipes passed down from generation to generation, are responsible for producing sweets in all their varieties, from the candies that are central to Carnival celebrations to the confectionery that adorns the tables on All Saints’ Day, as well as the misk’i bolas, those artisanal candies in high demand “all year round” in Cochabamba.

At 78 years old, expert producer Bertha Borda, of Tarateña roots, welcomed the ASÍ magazine from OPINIÓN in her rented sweet factory for this Carnival season in the traditional and popular Atacama passage.

There, while she observes the large pots where the old-fashioned sweets are still made, she recalls that she has been in the business “forever,” just as her great-grandparents, grandparents, and parents did.

“My grandparents left me the tradition to learn. Now my daughter will do it when I die,” says Borda, recalling her grandmother Encarnación, the matriarch of the Borda family who also inherited the trade from her ancestors.

Among sacks of sugar and vigilant bees hovering around the large cauldrons made from wooden barrels and the candies cooling in wicker baskets, Borda recalls that in the past, the production of this traditional treat was “more difficult” because they required firewood and wooden pots; however, today they are prepared with gas.

As for the recipe, it holds “family secrets”; however, the basic one consists of sugar, water, and lemon, which form a syrup that will soon turn into candy by the effect of fire, selected seeds, and the swaying of giant cauldrons.

For Borda, who sees the candy as the “joy of Carnival” and the main feature of the Ch’allas, she says that her whole family is involved in this trade.

Some of her sisters make them very close to her, just steps from her rented factory for the season, at stalls within the Atacama passage, while others make them in the city center, specifically on Lanza street.

Ruth Crespo, daughter of Beatriz Borda, was born among sweets and has candy-making in her blood. She recalls that she has been selling and producing these candies since she was a child. For the artisan, this sweet treat of Carnival represents “everything,” because it is a tradition passed down through her family that has survived for generations.

With a family history of candy-making, Irma Peredo de Borda, another of the “Misk’inchas” and owner of the “Doña Irma” factory, says she has been in the sweet business in Atacama passage for 40 years. “It’s a legacy from my grandparents, parents, and now my children are doing it. The whole family is involved,” she emphasizes, as she weighs a pound of pink-colored candies on an old scale.

The artisan, who insists that the secret of candy “stays with the Misk’inchas,” produces candies and misk’i bolas “all year round.”

With her factory fully operational and at least 10 cauldrons in use, she says that so far this Carnival, she has made candies with 70 quintals of sugar. This year, she expects to finish the celebration with more than 100.

THE SWAY OF THE CAULDRONS

The Borda family’s factory has been dedicated to the production of candy in La Llajta for seven decades, and it seems that the tradition will continue.

This is assured by Milton Aguayo, one of the youngest candy producers in the Borda family, who began making this treat when he was 17 and, now at 21, says that his nephews and cousins will soon “take his place” to continue the family tradition.

While stirring the cauldron to “seed” the candy, the young artisan emphasizes that he is in the business “because it’s the family business.”

Thus, amidst large amounts of syrup, as if he were an alchemist of sweets, he explains that the secret to making candy is to maintain the sway of the cauldron in a zero position.

“When you get the hang of it, the inertia makes it move on its own,” says Aguayo, while shaking the cauldron and “sprinkling” its interior with more syrup. The truth is that the movement of the cauldron requires a combination of technique and strength.

Although it might seem like a task only for men due to the strength needed, Aguayo explains that strength alone is not enough; technique is also essential. “My aunts did it the same way, despite the strength, and they even did it with better technique,” he highlights.

THE MAKING

In the Atacama passage, there is also a stall selling Misk’i Bolas candies. One of its owners, Lilian de Cárdenas, also a member of the Borda family, explains that the making of this Carnival treat starts with the traditional syrup, the base of all the local candy-making art.

The syrup is made from sugar and lemon salt or citric acid. “It’s a retrograde process we do from refined sugar until it becomes natural,” she explains. Although each artisan has a “grandmother’s recipe,” some add touches of vanilla essence to their preparations.

After that, the seed or heart of the candy (peanut, almond, walnut, pea, or dehydrated peach) is placed in a cauldron suspended by ropes from metal frames resembling soccer goalposts, which are now detachable, as many factories are itinerant.

Inside, the art continues as the seeds are fed with syrup that remains over the fire. At this stage, the seeds are “sprinkled” with the special preparation “little by little.” This phase is called “seeding.”

If making regular candies with cilantro and pea, the process takes about an hour; while the finer ones take an additional 30 minutes. “They take longer because of the preparation,” says the artisan.

In this process, everything matters: the intensity of the fire, the quality of the cauldron, the technique of the cauldron’s sway, and even the drying of the sweet piece.

THE HEART OF THE CANDY AND ITS CLASSES

The truth is that the candy industry in Bolivia has diversified over time. The flavors and varieties are divided into three categories based on the “heart” or filling and the complex process of making them.

The first category includes the traditional and regular candies, such as coconut and cilantro, as well as the classic multicolored ones meant for the Ch’alla.

The second category includes the so-called “fine” candies, featuring peanut, pea, almond, dehydrated peach, walnut, and chocolate-covered varieties.

Finally, in the third category are innovations. With her extensive experience in the field, Ruth Crespo revealed that the new trend for the past two years in Carnival is the “three milk” candy, which costs 25 bolivianos per pound because its preparation requires three types of milk: evaporated, powdered, and condensed. “Since it’s a novelty, it’s the most requested,” she says.

Lilian de Cárdenas, a specialist in making this flavor, shared that it was her husband, a member of the Borda family, who introduced the product to the market. However, the artisan explains that its process is “very long” and takes about three hours.

It’s worth mentioning that in Potosí, there are also cookies and even prune-flavored candies. As for varieties, Borda recalls that in the past, she used to make candies with raisins, anise, and even janchicoco, an endemic palm tree in Bolivia native to the inter-Andean valleys of Cochabamba and Chuquisaca, now threatened with extinction. However, over time, these have stopped being made.

PRICES AND MARKET

But what is the price of this Carnival treat? Unlike in 2024, when a quintal of sugar was priced at 180 bolivianos and a pound of fine candy at 14 bolivianos and regular at 10, the situation is different now.

This is because this year, the quintal of sugar, a basic ingredient for the candy industry, reached 260 bolivianos. The increase forced expert producers to sell the pound of this Carnival sweet at 14 and 16 bolivianos, depending on the variety.

The crisis affecting Bolivians and the intense rains that have caused flooding also took a toll on the industry.

“We sell, but this year it’s a bit empty. People used to come to Ch’allar on their fields, but not anymore. It’s the crisis and the floods that have inundated their lands,” says Borda.

Despite this, the demand for these sweets has a wide market. In La Llajta, they are sold by the pound, quarter pounds, and small bags for both the countryside and the city.

However, among the municipalities with the highest demand are Independencia, Arque, and some from the Valle Bajo in Cochabamba, such as Capinota and Parotani.

Visitors from the departments of Oruro, La Paz, and Santa Cruz are also frequent buyers. The candy has also crossed borders and reached the United States, Argentina, and Spain to satisfy the tastes of Bolivians living abroad.  

THE ORIGIN

Contrary to popular belief, which attributes the birthplace of this culinary item to Potosí, sociocultural researcher Melvy Mojica specifies that the confite has European origins. However, this sweet treat arrived in Bolivia during the colonial era, with its production center being the Villa Imperial.

“It likely arrived in Spain from France, but fundamentally, it reached us from the colony, like all the cuisine that is ours,” says Mojica, who points out that this delicacy was consumed by aristocratic families.

Because its preparation was not an easy process, the Spanish had their servants make it. Over time, the sweet recipe spread through servants and indigenous workers.

Regarding the basic recipe for this sweet treat, Mojica asserts that the key ingredient is sugar, and the most popular ones were made from almonds and peanuts. However, the almonds were European, and the peanuts were already being produced in the Cochabamba town of Mizque, where many Spanish families resided. “Anise and pea confites were not on the tables of the wealthy,” the researcher clarified.

At 70 years of age, Mojica recalls that when she was young, the landowners used to give their workers some confites on Carnival day. “Eating sweets and confites was a delicacy for the workers, something highly sought after. This was because sweet food did not feature in the recipes of the Andean world,” the researcher notes.

SOFT AND HARSH

Today, each region makes the Carnival sweet with family recipes and peculiarities. However, for the expert, the confite from Villa Imperial stands out due to its softness, a characteristic attributed to the motion and the material of the pot in which it is made. As for the colors, they are all white.

However, the confite from Cochabamba is “rough.” The altitude at which it is made and the intensity of the fire are factors that would mark its differences.

USES

As for its uses, the confite plays an important role not only in Carnival festivities but also in Ch’alla ceremonies, an Andean ritual offering to Pachamama or Mother Earth, which involves sprinkling objects with alcoholic beverages.

For this purpose, the confites are multicolored and small, symbolizing joy and ritual, thrown into the sky and falling to the earth, symbolizing the source of life.

Regarding the pink confites, also typical of this season, they are used in fields and plots of land. “Primarily in rural areas, the confite is an element that sweetens the offering to Pachamama,” the researcher explained.

From an Andean perspective, this sweet has also become an element that accompanies the k’oa, the ritual of burning an offering to Pachamama.

In this context, Mother Earth is considered a “living being” to whom everything that pleases humans is offered, including sweet, salty, and even spicy items. Hence the use of the confite.

However, in this process, which is a basic act of “reciprocity” between humans and the earth, Mojica lamented that the k’oa has acquired “commercial” aspects over time, enriched with gold threads, silver, incense, myrrh, and confites—elements and products that are not native to Bolivia.

The sociocultural researcher concludes by emphasizing that the confite is the “element that sweetens and balances the table during Carnival time.”

NATIONAL HERITAGE

For its culinary richness, Potosí declared many typical elements of its highland pastry and confectionery heritage as national heritage.

In this regard, Law 485, dated January 25, 2014, declared the representative cuisine of the Potosí department as National Heritage of the Plurinational State of Bolivia, including confites.

“National Heritage of the Plurinational State of Bolivia is declared to be the traditional sweets of the Potosí department, consisting of canelones or rosquetes and the cakes of the Betanzos region, Chambergos, Tawa Tawas, Sopaipillas, Confites, Tocinillos, and Th’ayas from the city of Potosí,” states Article 2 of the mentioned law.

UNTIL THE NEXT CARNIVAL

The season for making confites for Carnival in Llajta began in January and ends after Martes de Ch’alla in March.

Although the pots no longer dance to the rhythm of carnival songs and the bees will take a break after three hard months of work as “guards” of the pots and confite factories, the “Misk’inchas” are preparing to continue with the next season of making traditional sweets in the Cochabamba valley.

Leave a comment