Argentinian Empanadas

My Argentinian friend taught me how to make these savory little handheld pies. Could a food be more inviting? Click at right for the recipe and story.

Photo: Lindsay Sterling

The Recipe

Argentinian Beef Empanadas

As Valy Steverlynck, from Luján, Argentina, taught Lindsay Sterling in Freeport, Maine, July 2014

Makes: 12-24 depending on how big you make them
Active time: 1 hour
Total time: 1 1/2 hours

For the dough: 

6 cups flour
1 1/2 sticks butter, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1 egg, mixed up
1 egg for egg wash at the end
two dashes salt
5-7 Tbsp cold water

Put flour, salt, the mixed egg and butter in a food processor. Pulse until course meal forms. Add 5 Tbsp water and blend briefly until the dry flour-y look is gone, but what you see is still loose, not dough-y. Try squeezing the loose pieces together. If they stick together indicating that all of it, once squeezed together, will come together into dough, then dump the loose contents onto wax paper. If they don't stick/mash together, then continue mixing in water bit by bit until it happens. Press the contents on the wax paper together into two discs, about an inch thick. Wrap the discs in wax paper and Saranwrap and refrigerate for thirty minutes. While that's chilling, make the filling. 

For the Filling: 

2 eggs
1/2 cup oil
1 onion, diced
1 lb. ground beef 
1 cup diced tomoatoes
1 Tbsp oregano
1 tsp chili flakes
1 Tbsp paprika
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cumin
1/4 cup raisins
1/2 cup fresh parsley, rough chopped
1/4 cup green olives, chopped
dash cayenne or hot chili powder to taste


Hardboil 2 eggs. Preheat oven to 350. Saute onions in oil. When soft, add ground beef, spices, tomatoes and salt. When beef is all the way cooked, mix in parsley, hard boiled eggs (cut into 1/4 inch pieces), green olives and raisins.

Assemble and Bake:

Generously flour counter top. Unwrap the first disc of dough and roll it out (spreading flour over the the top as needed so the rolling pin doesn't stick, and scooting flour underneath the dough with a spatula so the dough doesn't stick to the counter. When the dough is 2 mm thick, cut out circle shapes with an overturned cereal bowl or circular cutters if you have them. A good size is 4 inches in diameter. Lift up the network of dough that didn't get made into circles, and (adding a couple drops of water if necessary to help it stick to itself), knead into a ball which you can roll out again.

Put about 2 Tbsp of filling in the middle of each disc without getting any on the edges of the dough. Dipping your pointer finger in a small bowl of water, wet the edge of the disc of the dough. Fold the dough in half over the mound of filling. Squeeze the edges of dough together to seal the filling inside. Press the edges of a fork along the sealed edge (like the tines are rays shining out from the center of the packet) to make a pretty pattern. Continue making the rest of the empanadas, putting each completed packet on a sheet pan. Prick the top of each empanada with a fork. Mix up the last egg in a small bowl and brush the tops of all the empanadas with egg wash. Bake for 20 minutes or until golden and shiny. Serve immediately.

Copyright Lindsay Sterling 2014

The Story

Argentinian Family Secret

Hand-Held Pies

By Lindsay Sterling

Growing up in Argentina, Valy Steverlynck came from a family of not-so-great cooks. “At dinner,” she explains, “the meal would be set up with an announcement that the named family member actually produced something that was edible.” Aunt Nina was the exception. She was the only one who could really cook. Once, when Valy [pronounced like “volley”] was seven or eight years old, she smelled heaven coming from the kitchen. She descended the stairway and saw Aunt Nina in her white cotton apron making one of her family’s favorite foods: beef empanadas. Aunt Nina, with her usual quiet but sturdy affection, waved Valy in and showed her how to make the hand-held, savory pies that everybody loved.

            Cooking with Aunt Nina was about as much fun as anything could be. Valy recalls, “Cooking is a little bit like making art. You never know how it’s going to come out. It’s always interesting, a little different every time – and then you get to share it. And it was always such a challenge to make something edible.”

            Under Aunt Nina’s instruction, Valy smashed soft lard into the bowl of flour, and kneaded in water and a little beer until the dough would stretch without cracking. Then she rolled it out into a flat sheet and used an overturned bowl to cut it into discs. Aunt Nina brought over a steaming pot of filling that she’d made out of sautéed onions, red pepper, ground beef, tomatoes, paprika, oregano, fresh parsley, hardboiled eggs, green olives and a small handful of raisins. Nina showed Valy how much of the filling to spoon onto every piece of dough. Valy went on copying her as best she could. She wet the edge of the disc to make it sticky, folded the dough in half over the mound of filling, and pressed the two sides together to seal the filling inside a half-moon-shaped packet.

Twisting the edges of the packet into the pretty repulgue pattern took practice. Aunt Nina’s decoration was perfect and beautiful, looking like a smooth half-braid around the edge of the pie. Empanada after empanada, Valy improved her repulgue skills, proudly pricking the top of each completed packet with a fork when she was done. (The steam vent prevented all their neat work from bursting in the heat of the oven.) Finally, Valy watched the oven do its trick, making all the pretty pies turn golden and irresistible.

Valy ended up going to college in the United States, marrying an American, and moving to his hometown in Maine. When Argentina was vying for the World Cup, she threw a party to watch the game with friends on TV. In Argentina, where there’s a party, there are empanadas, so she got cooking. Valy showed me how to make empanadas like Aunt Nina had showed her. There are all different kinds. Empanadas de carne (the ones we were making) are filled with ground beef; empanadas de pollo, pulled chicken; empanadas de pescado, tuna fish and red peppers; empanadas de humita, corn and cheese; and empanadas de jambon y queso, ham and cheese.

This time Valy’s parents and brothers and sisters weren’t there to make the usual announcement: “Hey everyone, Valy has made something edible!” However, the wideness of her own kids’ eyes upon seeing the golden pies come out of the oven did indicate that the family tradition of surprised gratitude lives on. I think one thing is true for all cooks, good and bad, the world over: the arrival of good food always feels a bit like a miracle.

Click at right for the recipe and live cooking class info.

Copyright Lindsay Sterling 2014