Ham Pasties — The Comfort of a Sealed Edge, the Promise of a Shared Porch

Late September. The year is three-quarters done and the three-quarters have felt like three decades, each month a year, each week a month, time stretching and compressing in the pandemic accordion where nothing changes and everything changes and the calendar says September but my body says it has been September for approximately one thousand days.

I am making more sofrito than I have ever made in my life. The herbs from the backyard garden — the culantro and ají dulce I planted in June — are producing, actually producing, small green shoots that taste like Connecticut but try hard to taste like Bayamón, and I harvest them on Saturday mornings and add them to the sofrito base and the difference is subtle but real, the difference between store-bought and homegrown, between commodity and personal. My sofrito now contains a layer that is mine in a way that previous batches were not — Mami's recipe, Abuela Consuelo's technique, Carmen's garden. Three generations in one ice cube tray.

Eduardo and I took a drive on Sunday. Just a drive — no destination, no purpose, just the car and the highway and the fall colors and the two of us in a moving room with windows. We drove up Route 44 toward the Farmington Valley, the hills turning orange and red, the farms with their pumpkins and their corn mazes, the Connecticut pastoral that exists twenty minutes from downtown Hartford and that always surprises me with its beauty, the way a neighbor you have lived next to for thirty years can still surprise you by wearing a new dress. We didn't talk much. We didn't need to. The drive was the conversation. The silence was the companionship. Eduardo held my hand on the center console and the hand-holding was thirty-two years old and still felt like a decision, like a choice being made in real time, like two people in a car on Route 44 in September choosing each other again, still, always.

I made empanadas when we got home — beef empanadas, hand-shaped, the dough made from scratch because empanada dough from a box is a crime I refuse to commit. The filling: ground beef, sofrito (from the garden), olives, capers, hard-boiled egg. Each empanada sealed with a fork, the tines pressing the edge into a pattern that looks like a seam and functions like a promise. We ate them on the porch in the last light. October was coming. We were ready. We were not ready. Both.

The empanadas Eduardo and I ate on the porch that Sunday are not something I can hand you through a screen — they live in that September, in that light, in thirty-two years of chosen hands. But the spirit of them — the from-scratch dough, the filling sealed with intention, the fork-pressed seam that looks like a promise — lives in any hand-crimped pastry made with care, including these ham pasties, which ask the same things of you: patience with the dough, attention to the fold, and someone worth sitting down with when they come out of the oven.

Ham Pasties

Prep Time: 35 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cubed
• 1/4 cup cold shortening
• 6–8 tablespoons ice water
• 1 1/2 cups cooked ham, diced small
• 1 cup Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and finely diced
• 1/2 cup yellow onion, finely diced
• 1/2 cup rutabaga or turnip, peeled and finely diced
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces (for filling)
• 1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

1. Make the dough. Whisk flour and salt together in a large bowl. Cut in cold butter and shortening with a pastry cutter or your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with pea-sized pieces remaining. Add ice water one tablespoon at a time, mixing gently until the dough just comes together. Divide in half, flatten into discs, wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
2. Prepare the filling. Combine diced ham, potato, onion, and rutabaga in a bowl. Season with black pepper, thyme, and garlic powder. Toss to distribute evenly. Taste and adjust seasoning; the ham will add saltiness, so hold off on extra salt until tasted.
3. Preheat and roll. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, roll the chilled dough to about 1/8-inch thickness and cut into 6-inch rounds (a bowl or saucer works well as a guide).
4. Fill and seal. Spoon about 1/3 cup of filling onto one half of each dough round, leaving a 3/4-inch border. Dot the filling with a few small pieces of butter. Fold the dough over to form a half-moon. Press the edges firmly together, then crimp with a fork all along the sealed edge to close completely.
5. Egg wash and vent. Transfer pasties to the prepared baking sheet. Brush the tops with beaten egg. Use a sharp knife to cut two small slits in the top of each pasty to allow steam to escape.
6. Bake. Bake at 400°F for 35–40 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is cooked through. If the edges brown too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the final 10 minutes. Let rest 5 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 720mg