HOT POCKETS

On March 31st, after much aggravation and cursing like sailors (The Mister wasn’t cursing – just me), we loaded up a rented minivan with our most personal of personal belongings and hit the road, never to return (sniffle, sniffle). We were starving and slightly giddy, but it was a good thing because we had carefully built into our journey a detour to North Bergen, NJ, home of Los Andes Bakery. Almost a year ago at a Chilean girlfriend’s birthday BBQ, I devoured some of the most perfectly seasoned beef empanadas I had ever tasted; black olives, sautéed onions, plump raisins, chunks of hard-boiled eggs, juicy meat...

Los Andes Bakery

While in line at Los Andes hunger took full possession of my senses and I ordered a sandwich, four beef empanadas, and two cheese ones. And then I got back in line and ordered a pastry, which I forgot about on the first round. The sandwich was steak layered with avocado, lettuce, tomato, and a thick schmear of mayonnaise. You may think this combination odd or repulsive even, but in my world, all sandwiches should have avocado and mayo (except PB&J – there are limits to my mayo-avocado crush).


My appetite was satiated, however I couldn’t resist taking a peek at my empanadas, all tightly nestled into a white cardboard box, carefully Scotch taped at the seams, just like a birthday present. I took a bite, and I have to admit, although painfully, that I was the tiniest bit disappointed. Perhaps they were too cold. Perhaps the crust wasn’t as delicate as I remembered. Perhaps I had built them up too much in the months since I’d first had them…Perhaps my friend had a secret Chilean password that got her especially prepared empanadas for her party. Anyway, the next day there was not a crumb to eat in the new apartment, except for the leftover pastries. They were warmed up in the oven and actually resurrected quite nicely.

Empanadas

I feel inspired after this experience to seek out empanadas in Boston and also to prepare the Nicaraguan version (as soon as I finish unpacking): pastelitos – olive and raisin studded as well, but pork-based, deep-fried, and sugar-coated. Doesn’t that sound scrumptious?

P.S.
No, I do not know where the beef in my empanada came from, I regret to say, and even though they were tasty, I have been worrying about it. I feel worse about it than when I forgot it was Lent and ate meat on Fridays. But please understand that moving is a deeply traumatic occurrence in a person’s life and she cannot be blamed from veering off the straight and narrow path.