Usually, just as I am getting close to leaving Mexico, I find some absolutely irresistible treat and have to eat it every single day until I leave.
I arrive back in the U.S. a few pounds heavier, wondering how I ever got so carried away. I return to my more or less normal eating habits and more or less normal weight, only to return and discover some new treat across the border. This week, it was apple empanadas. I didn't know what an empanada was. I thought it was a sort of meat sandwich and not something I'd get excited about. That was until Jorge, our benevolent landlord (possibly too benevlent), showed up at our doorstep with a small plate. On the plate were two large, crispy, perfectly browned triangles covered in cinnamon sugar and filled with apples.
"For you!" He explained, unnecessarily. "Empanadas!" It was midafternoon and not exactly our coffee and pastry hour. (Full disclosure: My husband, Peter, and I didn't have a coffee and pastry hour, although this soon changed.) We cut one of those apple empanadas in half and tried it. And that was pretty much it. We ate the second empanada. Then, I went downstairs to find Jorge.
