An Afternoon of Empanadas

As days go on, I am more and more thankful every day for my grandma. This past year being difficult for our family, these slow moments are even more precious. The story of these empanadas starts long before this particular afternoon in the kitchen, back in fourth grade when a class project asked me to choose a Latin American country to present on. I picked Argentina, and part of the assignment meant bringing something to share that connected to the country in some way. My grandmother offered up her homemade empanadas, and though I've since learned they trace back to Spain rather than Argentina itself, that didn't matter to a nine-year-old standing in front of her class with a plate of something her grandmother had made by hand. It was the first time I remember truly helping her in the kitchen rather than just watching, small fingers pressed clumsily into dough that she folded and crimped with the ease of decades of practice, and empanadas have held a particular place in my heart ever since.

My grandmother helped me make the batch pictured here too, standing beside me the same way she did all those years ago, and her hands still move through the folding and crimping with a rhythm mine haven't quite caught up to. Cheese empanadas remain my favorite, alongside chocolate and any version filled with banana or fruit, since meat isn't something I eat myself. That's part of why this post includes two fillings rather than one, so that whoever is baking alongside me can choose the version that fits their own table.

The dough came together the way the best kitchen afternoons always do, with flour scattered across the counter and no particular hurry to finish. We reached for French flour because it holds its shape so beautifully under a rolling pin, soft and cooperative in a way that turns even a beginner's hands into something more confident. Cutting the rounds became a small ceremony of its own, each one pressed and crimped by hand until the tray looked like a field of little golden moons waiting for their turn in the oven.

Two fillings emerged from that afternoon, born mostly of wanting to please every appetite at the table. One pot held chocolate, melted slowly with cinnamon and maple syrup until it turned glossy and rich enough to spill the moment a fork broke through the crust. The other held a savory mixture of chopped beef simmered until deeply flavorful, finished with a layer of melting cheese folded into the center. Both versions baked side by side, and both disappeared just as quickly.

The Dough

The Ingredients

• 3 cups French flour, plus more for dusting

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 10 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cubed

• 1 large egg

• 1/3 cup cold water

• 1 tablespoon white vinegar

• 1 egg, beaten, for brushing

The Method

Whisk the flour and salt together in a large bowl, then work the cold butter in with your fingertips or a pastry cutter until the mixture looks like coarse, sandy crumbs with a few pea-sized pieces still visible.

In a separate small bowl, beat the egg together with the cold water and vinegar, then pour it into the flour mixture and stir just until a shaggy dough begins to form. Turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and knead only a few times, enough to bring it together without overworking it, since a light hand here is what keeps the crust tender rather than tough.

Shape the dough into a disk, wrap it tightly, and let it rest in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes before rolling, which gives the gluten time to relax and makes the dough far easier to work with. When ready to assemble, roll it out on a floured surface to about an eighth of an inch thick before cutting into rounds or hearts.

The Chocolate Filling

The Ingredients

• 8 ounces dark chocolate, roughly chopped

• 2 tablespoons maple syrup

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

• A pinch of cayenne pepper

• Zest of half an orange

• 2 tablespoons heavy cream

• A pinch of sea salt

The Method

The chocolate goes into a small saucepan over the gentlest heat the stove allows, joined right away by the cream so it never has the chance to scorch. Stir slowly and let the pieces soften into one another, then fold in the maple syrup, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and cloves once the base has turned smooth and glossy.

A whisper of cayenne brings a slow warmth that builds after the first bite, while the orange zest lifts the whole mixture with something brighter and more fragrant. A pinch of sea salt at the very end wakes everything up, rounding out the sweetness so the chocolate tastes deep rather than flat.

Noellie's Tip: Let the mixture cool just slightly before spooning it into the dough, since a filling that's too warm will only soften the crust before it ever reaches the oven.

A Family Note

This particular blend of spices traces back to a version my own family has made for years, the kind of recipe passed along in fragments rather than measurements, a pinch of this and a shake of that until it tasted right. The cardamom and orange zest are the twist I've added to make it my own, a small departure that turns a simple melted chocolate into something that tastes like it has history behind it.

The Beef & Cheese Filling

The Ingredients

• 1 pound beef, finely chopped

• 1 small onion, diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika

• 1 teaspoon ground cumin

• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

• 1/2 teaspoon ground coriander

• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• A pinch of ground cloves

• A pinch of crushed red pepper flakes

• Salt and pepper, to taste

• 1 tablespoon olive oil

• 1/2 cup shredded cheese of your choosing

The Method

Warm the olive oil in a skillet and let the onion soften first, filling the kitchen with that low, comforting smell that always signals something good is on its way. The garlic follows for just a minute, enough to turn fragrant without burning, and then the beef joins the pan to brown slowly, broken into small pieces as it cooks.

Season generously with the smoked paprika, cumin, oregano, coriander, cinnamon, cloves, and red pepper flakes, letting the spices bloom against the hot pan before adding salt and pepper to taste. Let the mixture simmer until any liquid has cooked away and the beef tastes concentrated and deeply savory, with just enough warmth from the pepper flakes to linger pleasantly.

Off the heat, fold in the shredded cheese while everything is still warm enough to let it melt just slightly into the meat, so that each empanada holds a little pocket of richness at its center.

A Family Note

The cinnamon and clove folded into a savory filling might read as unexpected, but it's the detail I've carried over from the way beef was seasoned in my own kitchen growing up, a quiet nod to New Mexican cooking traditions where warm spices find their way into savory dishes as often as sweet ones. It's the twist that makes this filling feel like mine rather than borrowed, a small inheritance tucked into every bite.

Assembling & Baking

Roll the dough thin and cut it into rounds or hearts, whichever shape feels right for the occasion. Spoon a small amount of filling just off-center, fold the dough over, and crimp the edge with a fork or your fingertips until it's sealed tight.

Arrange the empanadas on a parchment-lined tray with a little room to breathe between each one, then brush the tops with a beaten egg for that deep golden shine. Bake at 400°F for 18 to 22 minutes, until the crust turns burnished and the chocolate ones begin to show the faintest hint of their filling at the seams.