Spoiler Alert: I made empanadas.
Probably not so obvious: I wouldn’t recommend it if you’re cooking for one.
Let me preface this written commentary, and just assert: I love empanadas. There’s a franchise (it’s actually three privately held locations) in New York City called Empanada Mama that makes the best empanadas I’ve ever had. I once recommended this delicious gem to a friend, but he later scolded me for suggesting a one-dollar-sign-on-yelp restaurant. Apparently, one of his coworkers who had lived in the City for several years didn’t think it was worth a try during his week long trip.
But not even as a snack spot?! Look Buddy (not his real name, but it definitely starts with a B), I have an ego, but I’m definitely not above flaky handheld pockets of meaty goodness drenched in some sort of spicy/creamy/mysterious green sauce. You really can’t spend less than $3.00 a pop to experience 5 minutes of satisfaction that will probably stick with you for the rest of your life? Empanada Mama is the empanada game changer. You don’t know empanadas until Mama’s made them for you.
I mean, look how excited we all were after finishing a meal there!!
When I decided to attempt empanadas this week, I really set myself up for failure. How could I compete with the best I’ve ever had? You already know the answer: I couldn’t. I didn’t like the results so much, I’m not even going to post the recipe I attempted.
So why even mention it? Because as much as I’d like this blog to be a record of all my successes, it wouldn’t be a representation of my life if there weren’t accompanying failures.
I’ll just leave you with snapshots and the wanting of a dream that will probably never come true.