Beef Stuffed Sopaipillas -- When Mami Says You Are the Archive

The week after Thanksgiving. The week of sandwiches. Pavochón sandwiches with mojo mayo on Monday. Pavochón sandwiches with stuffing (Linda brought me a Thanksgiving stuffing she had made; it was fine; it went into a sandwich on Tuesday). Pernil sandwiches on Wednesday. Ropa vieja made from chopped pavochón on Thursday — a clever reuse Eduardo did not expect. Empanadillas filled with chopped turkey on Friday.

A week of sandwiches and turkey reuse, and I am not tired of it. Last year at work I was tired of it by Tuesday because I was doing industrial-scale turkey reuse at the hospital cafeteria. This year, at home, with two people, I am enjoying every bite. Retirement food.

Tuesday Mami asked me to come to her apartment to help her with something. I drove over. She was at her kitchen table. She had the small wooden box that has lived on her dresser for as long as I can remember. She opened it in front of me. Inside: papers, photographs, a small strand of rosary beads.

She said, "Carmen, I want to go through these with you before I cannot." I said, "Mami, okay." We spent three hours at her kitchen table. She showed me every paper. Her marriage certificate to Miguel, 1958. Her sewing-school certificate, 1959. A letter from Héctor, 1992, written when he was moving to New York briefly (before he came back to the island, before everything that came after). Three photographs of my parents on their honeymoon in Ponce. A photograph of Abuela Consuelo at her own eightieth birthday, six months before she died.

Mami said, "When I die, these come to you. Not to your brothers. To you. You are the archive." I said, "Mami, I am not going to think about this." She said, "You will have to think about it. So do it now. With me. Then it is done and you will not be surprised." She was right. She is always right. I took the box home on Tuesday. It is on my dresser now. It will stay there for as long as she is alive. Then it will be mine.

Sunday dinner was small — just me, Eduardo, Mami, Sofía. We ate the last of the pavochón in sandwich form and Mami ate half a sandwich and drank coffee. She said, "This is a good sandwich, Carmen." I said, "Thank you, Mami." She nodded. She asked for a cookie. I gave her a cookie. She ate it. She closed her eyes on the couch. She stayed there for an hour. Eduardo drove her home. Wepa.

After a week of pavochón sandwiches and mojo mayo and Linda’s stuffing and ropa vieja and a Tuesday afternoon sitting at Mami’s kitchen table with a wooden box full of 1958 and 1992 and Abuela Consuelo’s last birthday — I wanted something that felt like I had made something with my hands. Sopaipillas filled with seasoned beef: dough you press and fry, a filling you build yourself, a thing you close up and hand to someone you love. It felt right. It felt like the week deserved a real meal at the end of it.

Beef Stuffed Sopaipillas

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons shortening or lard
• 3/4 cup warm water
• Oil for frying (vegetable or canola)
• 1 pound ground beef
• 1/2 medium onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 1/2 cup shredded cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese
• Sour cream, salsa, or guacamole for serving

Instructions

1. Make the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Cut in the shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Gradually add the warm water, stirring until a soft dough forms. Knead lightly on a floured surface for 1–2 minutes until smooth. Cover with a clean towel and let rest for 15 minutes.
2. Cook the filling. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, brown the ground beef, breaking it up as it cooks, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat. Add the onion, garlic, and bell pepper and cook until softened, about 4 minutes. Stir in the cumin, chili powder, and smoked paprika. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
3. Shape the sopaipillas. Divide the dough into 8 equal portions. On a lightly floured surface, roll each portion into a rough circle or square about 5 inches across. Place a generous spoonful of the beef filling onto one half of each piece of dough, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Top each with a pinch of shredded cheese. Fold the dough over the filling and press the edges firmly to seal, crimping with a fork.
4. Fry the sopaipillas. In a deep skillet or Dutch oven, heat 2–3 inches of oil to 350°F. Fry the stuffed sopaipillas in batches, 2–3 at a time, for 2–3 minutes per side until deep golden brown. Transfer to a paper towel–lined plate to drain.
5. Serve. Serve warm with sour cream, salsa, or guacamole on the side. These are best eaten right away while the dough is still crisp and the filling is hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg