I've got a soft spot for empanadas. We called them pastels in Indonesia when I was growing up, half-moon pockets of goodness complete with the crunchy braided edges you saved for last, a belly filled with something savory, and a shape like a smile. My mom would take hours making them, rolling flat the dough she made with egg, flour and butter, then cutting out circles with an upturned soup bowl. She'd tuck a mix of glass noodles, peas, chicken and diced hard-boiled egg into the fold, then pinch the edges one over the other to form the braids before she fried them to a golden brown. I loved eating them not just because they were delicious, but also because unlike wontons and egg rolls, whose wrappers can be store-bought, empanadas had to be handmade from the ground up. The only shortcut she'd allow would be to crimp the edges with a fork if she... More >>>