We did not have a lot of Latin food growing up. Two years of medical school in Guadalajara did nothing but foster disdain in my Father for beans and tortilla. Homemade burritos were a semi-annual dinner, if that. Mexican takeout happened, but again, not with any frequency. Chili, a staple in some of my best friends' houses (Ah, Jackie's mom's chili!), was never made at our house. Foods that I have since come to appreciate and adore, foods like yucca, plantains, and chimichurri were just not on anybody's radar.
Why then, and how then, did I fall so helplessly in love with empanadas?
It happened in college. Well, actually, it happened out of college - but during my college years. I studies abroad junior year in Buenos Aires. While there, I became an Argentine-ophile: I learned to dance the tango, studied Incan folk instruments, hiked the Andes, watched football, disregarded the upper buttons of my shirt, drank mate, and yes, I ate a lot of empanadas.
Buenos Aires offered wonderful street food. There were the pan rellenos (stuffed breads) that I enjoyed every weekend at the Recoleta Market, filled with tomato, mozzarella and basil, or with meat, or cheese and oregano. There were choripan, grilled chorizos on grinder rolls, dowsed with chimichurri sauce (a relish of oil, garlic, parsley and other herbs). There were of course good old fashioned hot dogs, only they went by the wonderfully esoteric name "superpanchos." Makes you wonder about the origin of our word for the thing. I mean, really, why hot dog? There were also the ubiquitous sandwiches available in every corner deli and restaurant, the milanesa; essentially a Weinerschnitzel, breaded veal cutlet, on bread with lettuce, tomato and onion.
But there was really nothing quite like an empanada. A thick doughy crust, hiding delectable treats inside. The most basic fillings in Argentina for empanadas are beef, chicken, cheese, ham and cheese, and corn. There are, however, endless potential fillings, and I have tried, chicken liver, trout, squid, chorizo, and a variety of empanadas dulces (sweet fillings). It is always fun to try different varieties of empanadas; you can discover a lot of great combinations and fillings. But in my experience, no matter how tasty an exotic filling to an empanada, there is just no beating beef.
Different parts of Latin America, and even different regions within a country prepare empanadas in their own ways. There may be differences in the dough, in the fillings, or in the seasoning. The greatest differences between regional preparations that I have tasted come down to two choices: large or small and baked or fried. Now I have to admit, the tastiest empanadas that have ever had were small and fried, but when I make them, I cook them Buenos Aires style, large and baked.
Because the process can be time consuming, I use pre-made empanada dough. It saves a lot of time, and Goya makes good discs. For the filling, I essentially follow this recipe. Mine have beef, onion, garlic, chilies, tomatoes, raisins, olives, cumin, oregano or marjoram, and are topped with a slice of hard-boiled egg.
Assembling the Empanadas to Bake
Once together, I crimp the edges, and bake them in a hot oven, sometimes finishing them under the broiler, 10-15 minutes.
Empanadas de Carne
When I lived in Argentina, three empanadas was a typical lunch for me once or twice a week. Occasionally I would have little homemade ones for dinner. Then I could scarf down ten or twelve. Vanessa and I each have four or five of these for dinner, and the leftovers make great lunches.
Empanadas con Ensalada
So for nostalgia of my Latin life, empanadas have become my ultimate comfort food. Like Chinese dumplings, Indian samosas, and hell, like beef wellington, they prove that when you take meat and wrap it in dough, it's going to taste good. It's going to taste really good.
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