Stages of Making Empanadas for the First Time

Stage 1: “Oh wow, look at this quick recipe for empanada dough. It looks so easy!”

Stage 2: “Crap, I don’t have a food processor or a or a pastry cutter or a rolling pin. Well, I can just make do, right?”

Stage 3: “Get into little tiny pieces, you f*cking stick of butter. No, stop sticking to the fork. STOP. Argh!”

Stage 4: “Why is it so dry? I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to look like sand.”

Stage 5: “Okay, after adding copious amounts of water, the dough is made and now I need to let it chill for a bit I guess?”

Stage 6: “F*ck I let it chill for too long and now it’s hard as a rock. Now it’s gotta thaw!”

Stage 7: “It’s thawed and now I just realized that I’m gonna have to break it up into little pieces since my impromptu roller a la wine bottle can’t handle all of the dough.”

Stage 8: “Oh, cute little circles! I’m getting so close to finishing even though my hands feel like crap from all of the mixing and rolling.”

Stage 9: “‘Add shredded chicken and cheese.’ F*ck. I forgot about that.”

Stage 10: “Why won’t these damn empanada edges seal? Stop spilling open. Staaahp.”

Stage 11: “Look at all these cute hand pies I finally have. And it’s only 1:30 AM!”

Stage 12: “Well, time to freeze them and go to bed so that I don’t have to reflect too closely on my poor life choices!”

Inspired by a real-life experience in which Cinnia traded 5 hours of her life to make 25 empanadas because she didn’t think things through very well and forgot to follow the rule of “mise en place” before attempting anything.

Note: The picture is not mine; I got it from here. Believe you me, you don’t wanna know what mine looked like, but definitely not this nice!

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Greetings, Earthlings

You might know me from the other blog.

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I dedicate this blog to my weird and wonderful interests, as well as the bizarre bits of humor, ranting and inspiration that float into my brain not unlike literary flotsam and jetsam.

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