Eve’s Empandas – The Art of the Empanada

The Art of the Empanada

A light dusting of flour goes onto the work surface before Eve brings out the dough. With a small scoop in hand, Eve begins portioning the filling and shaping each pastry.

The kitchen is warm today, which can make the dough difficult to handle. If it becomes too soft, Eve explains, she will place it in the freezer for a few minutes. Normally, Eve prepares twelve empanadas at a time, settling into the rhythm and repetition of the process.

A dozen is also the traditional quantity in which empanadas are sold in Argentina.

Eve carefully checks each one before shaping and sealing its edges. Although the movements are repeated, no two empanadas are exactly alike.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m a sculptor,” Eve says, “like I’m sculpting these little things.”

For Eve, cooking and art are closely connected. Both involve making something for an audience, and food brings an immediate response: people either like it or they do not. Presentation matters, too. Each empanada receives a small decorative touch before Eve places it on a tray.

At its simplest, an empanada is a filling wrapped in dough. Beyond that, there are few limitations.

“You can do anything your heart desires,” Eve says.

Eve’s sweet corn empanadas are not strictly traditional. Corn is used in Argentinian empanadas, but Eve gives herself the freedom to create fillings according to her own tastes and ideas. Eve was not formally trained in culinary school. Instead, she taught herself by studying, experimenting and trusting her instincts.

“I just learn and study and kind of follow my gut,” Eve says. “Each part—each stage of the cooking—is so special.”

That freedom to experiment is one of the things Eve enjoys most. Even the possibility of making a mess is part of the pleasure of creating. Eve loves going out to get fresh corn and becomes genuinely excited when it is time to prepare the filling.

Eve’s sweet corn recipe was inspired by South American corn dishes such as torta de choclo and chipá guasú. The resulting empanadas have become especially popular with children, and they are also Eve’s personal favorites. Eve likes to eat them with Valentina hot sauce.

Eve’s business has developed gradually. In the beginning, Eve made everything entirely by hand, without machines. Later, Eve added a small household KitchenAid mixer. Step by step, Eve has acquired more tools and made the work more efficient without losing its handmade character.

Once formed, Eve arranges the empanadas on sheet pans and freezes them. Some days Eve works alone; on other days, people join her in the kitchen. The atmosphere changes from day to day, and Eve believes those differences naturally become part of the work.

Still, consistency is important. “Customers should know what to expect, even though a handmade product will never have the rigid uniformity of something produced by a machine.”

“They’re homemade,” Eve says. “I’m not a machine—but I do try to have a process.”

That process is becoming increasingly important as Eve’s production grows. What begins as a single batch can eventually mean shaping thousands of empanadas, each one made individually and each one slightly different.

Eve also has ambitions to bring her empanadas to a wider audience. One idea is to operate a pop-up at Overlook Lodge at the Belleyere  ski slope.

“Wouldn’t that be cool?” Eve asks. “I would love to have a pop-up there.”

As Eve shapes the final sweet corn empanada and places it alongside the others, the repetitive work reaches its satisfying conclusion. The tray now holds a dozen small, carefully formed pastries—part food, part sculpture and the product of a process guided by curiosity, intuition and joy.

“We’ve got our empanadas,” Eve says.