Since that first meal, I've managed to work my way through every empanada on the menu. The pollo, strips of slightly dry and mildly spicy shredded chicken mixed with an almost imperceptible amount of cheese, was the least interesting — but then, I usually think chicken is an inferior meat. I could also take or leave the pescao, which upset the ideal starch-to-protein ratio by mixing rice with the thin slices of white fish and chunks of tomato. But the rajas, which combined tart sour cream and smoky poblano peppers under a thick layer of melted cheese, was excellent. So was the ham and cheese, one of the most universal South American combinations and a favorite of mine.
For a light lunch at Empanada Express, I also liked the La Mexi arepa, with just cheese and a couple of slices of avocado, and a side of fried plantains, the fruit lightly caramelized from its own sugar. At a group dinner, we ordered the mini-empanadas, which are about a third the size of the regular version and come in any combination; we loaded up on the poblano and mozzarella, as well as carnitas and Pabellon Criollo. That still left room for the day's special: a Colombian platter piled with rice and beans rich with pork and lard, a spicy pork chop oozing its own juices, and crispy chicharrones, laden with velvety fat. All that was topped with a fried egg, which brought everything into a yolky balance. The special was like a hearty, home-cooked meal, a window into the family dinner of another culture.
But the empanadas, a distinctly Venezuelan version of my nearly perfect food, will always be the reason for a run to Empanada Express. It's the simple things that count.
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