Making Shrimp Empanadas in La Viga, Mexico’s Wholesale Fish Market

Saturday saw a group of three friends in La Viga, Mexico’s wholesale market, claimed to be the biggest in Latin America and the second biggest in the world.  It’s worthy of several blogs which will be coming along. First, though, is the shrimp empanada.  The market appears to run on shrimp empanadas available from the time it opens at three in the morning to the time when it winds down around two in the afternoon.  They’re made on the spot and served hot and fresh.

Roberto, part of a production line of two empanada makers and one fryer, explained how it was done.  The dough is made of flour from a big sack under the work bench and vegetable oil from equally big plastic garafons. It’s more like an Argentinean empanada dough than the flaky pastry (hojaldre) usually used for empanadas in Mexico.

It’s shaped into egg-sized balls (a phrase is worth many jokes in Mexico and probably elsewhere).  These are stored in a plastic bag (on left below).

Then the dough is rolled out on this oilcloth-covered counter. The empanada makers did it with two or three quick strokes. It took me half a dozen.

Rolling the dough

Then the shrimp mixture, at hand in a red plastic bowl, is sprinkled over the half of the dough furthest from the empanada maker.

Adding filling of small shrimp with chopped onion and tomato

Now comes the real artistry, the crimping. The part of the dough closest to the worker is flipped over.  The points are folded over and firmly pressed down. Then working backwards, the two hands in parallel, the sides are crimped to make a neat, secure, half oval.

Securely crimping the edges of an empanada

The empanada is thrown back to a waiting tray ready to be fried.

Perfectly uniform empanadas ready to fry

At this point, the third member of the team takes over.  He fries the empanadas about ten at a time. When they are brown, he scoops them out and arranges them artistically on a foil-lined basket with absorbent paper in the bottom.  He also fills the orders, wrapping the empanadas in absorbent paper and putting them in plastic bags.

Empanadas frying

How do they taste?

With a sprinkle of salt, a hefty dash of hot sauce, the crisp outside and shrimp-salad-like interiors warm and satisfy, cheering up a chilly morning where the wholesale aisles lit by bare light bulbs are awash with melting ice from the refrigerated fish trailers.

Like most fried things, they are not so good cold.  The dough is thin and gets tough as it cools.

Roberto and companions start work at three.  The clientele shifts from market workers to visitors as the morning wears on.  They make four hundred (each, I think, but they were too busy to answer many questions) on weekdays, eight hundred on the weekends. Certainly they were turning out a couple a minute when we were there.  Four hundred empanadas would bring in US$130.

They enjoyed seeing me make a fool of myself.  They grabbed a snack of fried fish in bites as they worked. But it was clear that the production line had to keep going if they were to make a profit.

The ergonomics of ten hours of empanada making. Note the boxes to stand on.

And here you can see the result. My empanada on the left, thick crust and uneven filling.  Roberto’s on the right. Perfect hand food.

My kindergarten-level empanada versus doctoral-level empanada (Beatriz's quip)

Huge thanks to my comadre, Beatriz, who knows the market and its people so well, and was prepared to share that knowledge, and to Tessa who made a perfect companion. And of course to Roberto and his co-workers.

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