Stuffed Phyllo Pastries

December. The month of pasteles and pernil and parranda and everything that makes being Puerto Rican in Hartford feel like being Puerto Rican in Bayamon, almost, close, the way my food is close to Mami food which was close to Abuela Consuelo food — never exact, never identical, but close enough to taste the love, close enough to feel the island.

The pasteles are already made — forty from November, which I am proud of. But Mami said forty is not enough. She said, Carmen, you have more family now. Lucas eats. Jenny eats. Carlos eats. James eats. You need more pasteles. She is right. I need more pasteles. I always need more pasteles. I made twenty more this weekend, bringing the total to sixty. Sixty pasteles in the freezer. I could open a store. I could supply the entire Hartford Puerto Rican community. But these pasteles are not for sale. These pasteles are for family. The family is growing. The pasteles grow with it.

Parranda happened again this year — Tuesday night, 9 PM, twelve people from church with instruments and voices and the beautiful chaos of Puerto Rican Christmas caroling. They sang at our house for an hour and I served pasteles and coquito and everyone ate and sang and the house was loud and warm and alive. Lucas was there — Miguel Jr. and Jenny brought him — and he watched the music with enormous eyes, his head turning toward the guitar, toward the guiro, toward the voices singing aguinaldos that he does not understand yet but that are entering him, settling into his blood, becoming part of his DNA. Music and food, mi amor. They enter through different doors but they meet in the same room. The room is the heart. The door is always open.

Mami sat in her chair during the parranda and she sang. She knew every word. The fog was gone and the music was here and she sang every aguinaldo from memory, from the body memory that outlasts the brain memory, from the place where the songs live deeper than names and dates and the knowledge of what day it is. She sang and her voice was small and clear and perfect and I stood in the kitchen doorway and I watched her and I cried quietly because the singing was the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking thing — beautiful because she remembered, heartbreaking because I know the remembering will not last. But tonight. Tonight she sang. Tonight was enough.

I cannot give you my pastel recipe tonight — that one lives in the hands, in the masa, in the sixty hours of December labor that produced sixty parcels now resting in my freezer waiting for people I love. But what I can give you is this: stuffed phyllo pastries, because the spirit is the same. Something small and wrapped and filled. Something you make many of, more than you think you need, and then still run out. Something you pass from hand to hand at the door while the guiro is still ringing and Mami is still singing in her chair. The filling changes. The wrapping changes. But feeding people — that part never does.

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 24 pieces

Ingredients

1 package (16 oz) frozen phyllo dough, thawed
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 lb ground beef or ground turkey
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

Prepare the filling. In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the ground meat with the onion and garlic, breaking it up as it browns, about 8–10 minutes. Drain any excess fat. Stir in the spinach, oregano, cumin, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. Remove from heat and let cool for 10 minutes. Fold in the feta and beaten egg until combined.
Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Prepare phyllo layers. Unroll the phyllo dough and keep covered with a damp towel to prevent drying. Lay one sheet on a clean work surface and brush lightly with melted butter. Layer a second sheet on top and brush again with butter.
Cut and fill. Cut the two-layer phyllo rectangle into 3-inch wide strips. Place a heaping tablespoon of filling at the bottom end of each strip. Fold the corner over the filling diagonally to form a triangle, then continue folding flag-style to the end of the strip. Brush the finished triangle with melted butter and place seam-side down on the prepared baking sheet.
Repeat. Continue with remaining phyllo sheets and filling until all filling is used. You should have approximately 24 triangles.
Bake. Bake for 18–22 minutes, until the pastries are deep golden brown and crispy. Rotate the pans halfway through baking.
Rest and serve. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before serving. Serve warm. These can be made ahead and reheated in a 350°F oven for 8 minutes.

Nutrition (per serving)

Stuffed Phyllo Pastries — When the Freezer Is Full and the Heart Is Fuller