My Mother-in-Law's Colombian Arepas

This authentic Colombian arepas recipe uses masarepa and butter for golden, crisp-edged corn cakes perfect with eggs, cheese, or on their own.

The first time I met my husband’s mother, I was nervous in that way you are when something important is on the line. Meeting your partner’s mother is always a big deal. Meeting her across cultures, across languages, across a table full of expectations. That’s something else entirely. 

Jump to:

• A Little Cornmeal, A Lot of Love
• Ingredients
• How to Make Colombian Arepas Recipe
• Storage
• Top Tips
• What to Serve With Colombian Arepas
• Recipe

I had readied myself for so many things: awkward silences, stilted conversation, my brain scrambling to keep up with her quick Spanish. But what I hadn’t expected was how fast everything softened once we stepped into the kitchen.

We didn’t speak the same first language, but we both spoke “food.” We both knew the rhythm of kneading and shaping, of letting our hands do the talking. And more than anything, we both knew the joy of feeding the people we love. I think she saw that in me before I even had the chance to say it. 

She showed me how to test the dough—toca la masa, así, she spoke in slowed down Spanish, gently pressing the mix between her fingers. I mirrored her movement, letting the texture guide me.

When we formed the little corn cakes, she laughed at how small I made mine, correcting them with a deft pat and stretch, reshaping them into something more recognizable.  I added a little too much salt; she shrugged and added a bit more arepa flour. We were figuring it out together, side by side, one arepa colombiana at a time.

A Little Cornmeal, A Lot of Love

This wasn’t the first thing we cooked together.  By the time she taught me this colombian arepas recipe, her recipe, we had already found our rhythm in the kitchen. We’d chopped onions in silence, rolled dough to the same quiet beat. But something about these arepas felt like a moment.

As though in teaching me, she was giving me a little piece of her home. Her childhood. Her kitchen. And now, it’s one of our go-to dishes whenever she visits.

She still makes them better than me. That’s just the truth. But every time we stand at the stove, shaping dough and heating oil, we laugh about that first attempt.

We talk about Leo and Lin, about what we’re going to eat with the prepared arepas, about how long it’s been since the last time we cooked together. The kitchen smells like corn and butter and a little bit like something passed down.

Sometimes I make these for breakfast, split open with a pat of queso fresco or filled with scrambled eggs. Other times they’re a last-minute dinner alongside whatever is left in the fridge. They’re always met with quiet excitement, the kind of food the kids eat without questions. A side dish that feels easy and grounding at the same time.

They remind me, in some ways, of the Authentic Colombian Cheese Arepas I once made for F when he was homesick and quiet, the kind of homesick that sneaks into the corners of a weekday. I didn’t say anything. I just started grating shredded mozzarella cheese and pulling out the masarepa. He watched me shape the disks, helped me flip them. We ate standing up, sharing bites over the griddle. Food doesn’t always fix things, but sometimes, it gets close.

That’s what these Colombian-style arepas do for me. They bring me back. To that first kitchen, to my mother-in-law’s laughter, to the quiet kind of closeness that’s built with every shared dish. This is her recipe, passed to me not on paper but through touch, smell, and time. And now, I get to pass it on to you.

Ingredients

• White Masarepa – This is the foundation of any good arepa. Masarepa is pre-cooked cornmeal that’s used specifically for making arepas, don’t confuse it with masa harina or regular cornmeal, which won’t yield the same soft interior and crisp edges.
• Butter– Butter adds richness and a golden finish to the arepas. My husband’s family uses both butter and oil in the pan, it’s a detail I never skip because it makes them taste like hers. I use unsalted butter to control the saltiness in the final bite, but either works. You can also use a vegan butter like Earth Balance or Becel.
• Oil (for frying) – A neutral oil like canola or vegetable is ideal here. It allows the butter to do its aromatic work without burning. The mix of oil and butter also helps the arepas get that signature crispy crust without overcooking the inside. 

See the recipe card for full list and exact quantities.

How to Make Colombian Arepas Recipe

These arepas are easy to prepare, even more so once you’ve made them a few times. Once you get a feel for the dough, the process becomes second nature. Here's how we make them in our home:

Mix the Dough

In a large bowl, combine white masarepa and water. Start mixing with your hands or a spoon, then pause to test the texture, it should feel soft and pliable, not sticky or too dry. If the dough feels overly wet, sprinkle in a little more masarepa. Add a pinch of salt if desired, then mix well until smooth.

Let the Dough Rest

Let the dough stand for 5–10 minutes. This short rest allows the masarepa to fully hydrate, making the dough easier to shape. During this time, I usually tidy up or prep toppings like butter or queso fresco.

Shape the Arepas

Scoop out a handful of dough and roll it between your palms to form a ball, aim for about the size of a small lime. Flatten gently into a disc, about 1 cm thick. You can go smaller or larger depending on how you’re serving them. We often make a mix of sizes depending on whether it’s breakfast or dinner.

Heat the Pan

Preheat a skillet or griddle over medium-high heat. Add a bit of oil and a pat of butter, this is key for flavor and that perfect golden crust.

Cook the Arepas

Place the shaped arepas in the pan. Lower the heat to medium-low and cook for about 5 minutes on each side, until they’re set and lightly golden. Then, increase the heat to high and cook for 1–2 minutes per side to build a richer crust.

Serve Warm

Remove the arepas from the pan and serve immediately, or keep warm in a low oven until ready to eat. We love them with butter and a sprinkle of salt, or split open and stuffed with queso fresco, scrambled eggs, or whatever leftovers are hanging around in the fridge.

Storage

Once you’ve made a batch of arepas and you find yourself with extras, they store beautifully. Let them cool completely, then tuck them into an airtight container or wrap them individually in parchment paper. They’ll keep in the fridge for up to 4 days. 

To reheat, I like to toast them on a hot skillet until the edges crisp back up, just enough to revive their original texture. A quick splash of water on the pan and a lid over the top also helps steam them gently if they’ve gone a bit dry. 

You can freeze them too, just layer with parchment and store in a freezer-safe bag. Reheat from frozen in a toaster oven or warm pan.

What to Serve With Colombian Arepas

Arepas are endlessly versatile, which is part of why we love them so much in our home. Whether I’m using them to anchor a cozy breakfast or stretch a weeknight dinner, they always find their place on the table.

For something bright and fresh, I love pairing arepas with this Little Gem Salad. The crisp greens and lemony vinaigrette bring a beautiful contrast to the warm, golden corn cakes. I usually toss the salad together while the arepas are sizzling in the pan, and the two meet on the plate like old friends.

If we’re leaning into comfort, I’ll set out a bowl of Avocado Hummus for dipping. The creamy richness pairs beautifully with the crispy edges of the arepas. and it’s one of those spreads my kids scoop up without a second thought.

And when I want to make it a full-on feast, nothing rounds out the plate like Colombian Chicken Tamales. They’re a bit more work, but the flavors are deep and satisfying, and the combination of masa-on-masa just feels like a warm hug from childhood.

For something sweet on the side (or as a sneaky after-dinner treat), I serve Plátanos Maduros. Their caramelized edges and soft centers are a quiet nod to Colombian kitchens everywhere, and they disappear fast in ours.

Recipe