Paraguay: Chipa ha Ñorairõ

   Paraguay, like many countries in the Americas, has a fascinating history. But few are quite as singular. After gaining independence in 1811, revolutionary leader José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia took power and didn't let go until his death in 1840. He sealed the country off from the outside world, funneled state money into infrastructure, enforced strict trade barriers, and even banned Spaniards of European descent from marrying one another in an effort to dismantle the old colonial racial hierarchy. Under his rule, Paraguay became one of the most advanced nations in Latin America while also becoming one of the most isolated.

   After de Francia's death, the country didn't ease into the modern world. Instead, it was dragged into the War of the Triple Alliance in 1864, fighting Brazil, Argentina, and Uruguay. The result was one of the bloodiest conflicts in Latin American history, and Paraguay came out of it devastated. The war wiped out more than half the population and stripped the country of a large portion of its territory. The trauma stuck, and it shaped what came next.

   In the 1930s, Paraguay went to war again, this time with Bolivia over the Chaco region. The country won, but the political chaos deepened. Between 1904 and 1954, Paraguay went through 31 presidents. Coups, counter-coups, military strongmen: none of them brought real stability.

   That finally changed in 1954, though not in the way anyone hoped. General Alfredo Stroessner led a coup, took control, and declared a state of emergency (ostensibly to contain communism). This state of emergency allowed people to be arrested and jailed without trial and public meetings and demonstrations to be banned. He ruled under this state of emergency until 1989. His dictatorship became one of the longest in Latin American history, defined by torture, censorship, political repression, and the steady erosion of the social safety net. For Paraguay's working class, it was 35 years of fear and survival.

   But they fought back and they didn't fight alone. Paraguayan food, built from a blend of Indigenous Guaraní, Spanish, African, and Criollo traditions, was right there with them. On the picket lines, in the mountains, at secret meetings and roadside protests, food wasn't just nourishment. It was part of the resistance.

   That's where we begin. With a cheesy cornbread that fed striking workers. With starchy pancakes that traveled with guerrillas through the woods. With a casserole of cheese, bread, and corn sustaining landless peasants. With hearty dumpling soup simmered over protest campfires. And with golden, flaky empanadas stuffed into sandwich buns, handed out during the march that helped topple a regime.

   Grab your cheese grater. Let's dig in.

Sopa Paraguaya: Bread of the Strike

   Sopa Paraguaya is considered Paraguay's national dish. It looks just like traditional cornbread, but it's so much more than that. The Guaraní people had been making bread dishes with corn for centuries prior to the arrival of Spanish conquistadors. When the Spanish arrived, they introduced dairy products like cheese and milk, which blended with Indigenous traditions to create new culinary staples. One of these was a thick, hearty soup made with cornmeal, milk, cheese, and onions (where the "Sopa" comes from).

   The most famous origin story of Sopa Paraguaya ties it to President Don Carlos Antonio López in the mid-19th century. According to legend, López's cook accidentally added too much cornmeal to his soup, thickening it into a solid dish rather than a liquid one. Rather than discarding the mistake, she baked it, and López found it so delicious that it became a staple of Paraguayan cuisine. Whether or not this story is entirely true, what's undeniable is that Sopa Paraguaya evolved into a beloved national dish, one that became a staple of Paraguay's working class through good times and bad.

   In 1958, Paraguay was going through one of those times that could decidedly be labeled as bad. Under Alfredo Stroessner's iron fist, austerity strangled wages, political repression crushed dissent, and economic survival felt more like endurance than prosperity. The country's largest trade union, the Paraguayan Workers Confederation (Confederación Paraguaya de Trabajadores or CPT), long associated with the ruling Colorado Party, advocated for a 30 percent increase in wages, amnesty for farmers, and an end to the state of emergency. Despite the CPT's historic ties to Stroessner's Colorado Party and the demands catching Stroessner by surprise, he wasn't interested. The regime cracked down.

   So the workers went on strike. It was Paraguay's first national labor strike. Behind this strike, workers baked what little they had into large blocks of Sopa Paraguaya for strikers.

   The strike shut down large parts of the country's economy, and the government responded quickly. Within hours, police surrounded the CPT Central Office, dispersing rallies with force. More than 200 trade union leaders were hauled away, their offices ransacked, their movement silenced under boots and batons. Plates of Sopa Paraguaya, baked for striking workers, lay smashed in the streets, a quiet casualty of a regime that would not tolerate any opposition. Even the CPT general secretary, a member of parliament who legally enjoyed parliamentary immunity, was arrested.

   In the aftermath, the Paraguayan labor movement was in tatters. Its leadership was gone, the notion that organized labor strikes would not be tolerated was loud and clear, and the government seized control over the CPT. Many of the trade unionists, especially those who were liberals, socialists, and communists, reorganized in exile in Argentina. This CPT-Exile (or CPT-E) organization would begin plotting next steps, an organized resistance outside the borders of Paraguay. However, Sopa Paraguaya continued to be enjoyed by workers, much less triumphantly than it was when they took to the streets.

   Sopa Paraguaya looks like regular cornbread, but it tastes like so much more. The cheese and onions add a nice hearty flavor to an otherwise normal meal.

Sopa Paraguaya (Paraguayan Cornbread)

Yields: 8 servings | Prep time: 15 minutes | Cook time: 30 to 40 minutes

Ingredients:

1. 2 cups cornmeal (harina de maíz)
2. 1 cup all-purpose flour
3. 1 large onion, finely chopped
4. 1 cup grated cheese (queso Paraguay or mild white cheese, for example mozzarella)
5. 4 large eggs
6. 1 cup whole milk
7. 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted, plus 1 tablespoon for sautéing
8. 1 teaspoon salt

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Grease a 9 by 9 inch or 8 by 8 inch baking dish.
2. In a medium skillet, melt 1 tablespoon butter over medium heat. Sauté onions until translucent, about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.
3. In a large mixing bowl, beat eggs with milk. Add cornmeal, flour, grated cheese, salt, melted butter, and sautéed onions. Mix until well combined.
4. Pour batter into the greased baking dish, spreading evenly.
5. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes, until golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
6. Cool for 10 minutes, then slice and serve warm.

Mbeju: Bread of the Guerrilla

   The word Mbeju means "cake" in the Guaraní language. Much like Sopa Paraguaya, Mbeju evolved from Spanish ingredients being added to traditional Guaraní foods, in this case cheese and eggs being added to dishes traditionally made with cassava starch by the Guaraní people. Mbeju is essentially a starchy pancake that is eaten to accompany milk or coffee with breakfast. The pan frying makes it an easy dish to make on the run, and is particularly useful if you were the type of person who might be engaged in a guerrilla resistance against a tyrannical government.

   In the aftermath of the 1958 General Strike (and exile of leftists and union leaders to Argentina), the rigged 1958 elections where Stroessner was the only candidate for president, and the fresh 1959 declaration of a state of emergency, Stroessner's policies of economic austerity and land reform were evicting peasants from lands that had been theirs since before the foundation of the country of Paraguay, opposition was pushed against the wall. As arrests mounted, farmland was seized, and protests were crushed under military boots, Paraguay's opposition was left with only one choice: resist or be erased. Driven underground and hunted by the regime, they had no safe spaces.

   When Cuban peasants overthrew Batista's military dictatorship, revolutionaries across Latin America took notice. In Paraguay, both bourgeois and peasant opposition saw their own struggle reflected in Cuba's victory. Revolution no longer felt like a distant dream, it was happening, and Paraguay's fighters knew they had to adapt. Inspired by Castro's guerrilla tactics, they abandoned the cities for the shadows of the mountains, forests, and remote villages, where mobility, secrecy, and self-sufficiency became their greatest weapons.

   From Argentina, opposition forces fashioned paramilitary groups such as the Liberal led M-14, or Communist led FULNA and CML. The first strike was La Gran Invasión in 1959, a poorly led strike force by M-14 attacked several border communities, and attempted to cross into Paraguay. Starving, scattered, and unable to coordinate movements, M-14's invasion crumbled before it could ignite a wider rebellion. FULNA and CML fared much better. Bringing pans to cook over fires, as well as simple ingredients such as cassava starch and cheese, Mbeju was a simple meal that fed the ongoing guerrilla movement.

   In the shadows of the failure of the 1959 invasion, the leftist guerrilla groups sought different tactics, constantly staying on the move and doing small scale strikes where they could. They sought to establish a base in Paraguay's mountains and the dense eastern jungles. These regions were home to Paraguay's indigenous population that was displaced by the government's land policies. Often trading free labor for supplies to make Mbeju, the guerrilla fighters and indigenous peasants formed a symbiotic relationship.

   Of course, helping guerrillas came at a cost. Stroessner's forces did not ask questions. They burned entire villages even suspected of harboring guerrilla fighters. They tortured peasants for helping, and executed people found guilty. Many of the indigenous people closed their doors to the guerrilla resistance out of fear. Stroessner, with Brazilian military assistance and US funding, training, and logistical support, would wipe out FULNA's base in the Ybytyruzú Mountains, leaving only CML active. Their support amongst the peasantry would be small, but present, many scared to help, and many others buying government narratives about the guerrilla movement being an invasion by Argentina. CML would remain active throughout the 1960s, waiting for their moment to come, Mbeju powering both their bodies and their hope.

Mbeju is a delightfully cheesy pancake. I found it goes really well with coffee or a nice porter.

Mbeju (Cassava Cheese Flatbread)

Yields: 4 to 6 flatbreads | Prep time: 10 minutes | Cook time: 6 to 10 minutes

Ingredients:

1. 2 cups cassava starch (harina de mandioca)
2. 1 cup grated cheese (queso Paraguay or mozzarella)
3. 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
4. 1 teaspoon salt
5. 1 large egg (optional)

Instructions:

1. In a large mixing bowl, combine cassava starch, grated cheese, and salt.
2. Add melted butter and egg (if using). Knead until the mixture is crumbly but holds together when pressed.
3. Form mixture into 4 to 6 small patties, about 1/2 inch thick.
4. Heat a non-stick skillet over medium heat. Cook patties until crispy and golden, about 3 to 5 minutes per side.
5. Serve warm, ideally with coffee or milk.

Chipa Guasu: Bread of Pain

   Much like the other dishes listed, the story of Chipa Guasu starts with the Guaraní, who had been making a dough from corn since before the arrival of the Spanish. With the Spanish came cheese and eggs, and they would use that to enhance the bread they had been making for centuries. Unlike Sopa Paraguaya, Chipa Guasu is made with fresh corn kernels rather than corn flour, giving it a much more moist texture, almost like a bready custard or casserole. It's often served at celebrations and barbecues, a staple of the working class. More than just a dish for celebrations, Chipa Guasu became fuel for rebellion, shared in secret meetings, eaten before protests, and carried by those who refused to surrender their land without a fight.

   By the middle of the 60s, with the guerrilla movement on life support, the Stroessner regime ramped up its policies of land dispossession. As Stroessner's land seizures accelerated, peasants had nowhere left to turn, except to each other. Inspired by the radical Catholic liberation theology sweeping South America, they formed clandestine Christian Agrarian Leagues, determined to reclaim their stolen land through collective resistance. At meetings over the traditional Chipa Guasu, the peasantry began to discuss communal work, education, and communal farming. Their quiet gatherings, their whispered plans over plates of Chipa Guasu, these were enough to make Stroessner uneasy. And when his regime felt threatened, it never hesitated to strike first.

   As the leagues grew, Stroessner's government began to see them as a direct threat. So much of his regime relied upon brutal repression, that the building of a mutual aid network could cause the peasantry to feel as if it could challenge the regime. In the 1970s, they began to falsely seek to tie the Agrarian Leagues to clandestine armed rebel groups, such as the armed student movement Organización Primero de Marzo (OPM). Still the Christian Agrarian Leagues continued to meet, discussing community organizing over Chipa Guasu.

   On Holy Week of 1976, Stroessner made his move. As peasants gathered to celebrate Holy Week, sharing plates of Chipa Guasu in quiet tradition, Stroessner's forces struck. The feast was shattered by gunfire, the laughter replaced by screams, as the regime unleashed its most brutal crackdown yet. Hundreds of farmers were arrested in the Misiones department where the Agrarian Leagues were strongest. Many were tortured, often to death. Many others were killed in front of their families. LAC members were imprisoned for months and years, pregnant women suffered miscarriages, and this Pascua Dolorosa (Painful Easter) would lead to the end of the Christian Agrarian Leagues. For years after Painful Easter, Chipa Guasu became a dish laden with grief. Once served in celebration, it now carried memories too heavy to speak aloud. In kitchens across Paraguay, it was prepared in silence, a quiet act of mourning for those who never returned. But, even in the darkest days, hope remains. Paraguay's peasants were down but not out.

  Chipa Guasu is an interesting dish. Somewhere between a bread, casserole, and custard. I highly recommend it.

Chipa Guasu (Paraguayan Corn and Cheese Casserole)

Yields: 6 to 8 servings | Prep time: 15 to 20 minutes | Cook time: 45 to 60 minutes

Ingredients:

1. 1 large onion, chopped
2. 2 tablespoons butter or neutral oil (for example corn or vegetable oil), plus more for greasing
3. 6 to 8 cups (about 2 large packages or 1.5 to 2 pounds) frozen corn kernels, thawed and well-drained
4. 4 to 6 large eggs, lightly beaten
5. 1.5 cups whole milk
6. 1 pound (about 4 cups) cheese, cut into small cubes or shredded (queso Paraguay, Monterey Jack, mozzarella, or a Mexican blend)
7. 1 teaspoon salt (or to taste)
8. 1/2 teaspoon black pepper (or to taste)
9. Optional: 1/2 cup cooked and diced bacon (adds a smoky flavor)
10. Optional: 1 to 2 tablespoons cornmeal (to dust the baking dish, helps prevent sticking)

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 9 by 13 inch baking dish generously with butter or oil. If desired, lightly dust with cornmeal, shaking off excess.
2. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt butter or heat oil. Add chopped onion and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are softened and translucent, about 5 to 8 minutes. Do not let them brown too much. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
3. Divide thawed and well-drained corn into two batches. For Batch 1 (Creamy): In a blender or food processor, combine half the corn with the eggs and 1/2 cup milk. Blend until a lumpy cream or smooth mixture forms (based on preferred texture: some like it chunkier, some smoother). For Batch 2 (Textural): Pulse the remaining corn with the remaining milk, keeping some whole kernels for texture. Alternatively, blend all corn, eggs, and milk together to desired consistency.
4. In a large mixing bowl, combine processed corn mixtures, cooled onions (with pan oil), cheese, salt, and pepper. Add bacon if using. Mix thoroughly until well combined. The mixture will be quite liquid.
5. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
6. Pour mixture into the prepared baking dish, spreading evenly.
7. Bake for 45 to 60 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean or with a few moist crumbs (not liquid). Baking time varies by oven and dish depth.
8. Cool for 10 to 15 minutes before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Bori-Bori: Bready Soup of Solidarity

   If you were guessing that Bori-Bori came from a traditional Guaraní corn dish that was infused with cheese and eggs when the Spanish brought new ingredients, you'd be correct. That is a pattern in Paraguayan cuisine. These cheesy corn dumplings began to be prepared in the colder months, and cooked in a warm broth, making a soup that has been called "The best soup in the world" by multiple travel blogs. Of course, this dish would be just fine without that renown, as it is enjoyed by every class in Paraguayan society. The soup, filled with warm, cheesy, bready balls is often prepared communally and served for big celebrations. Its use as a communal dish would also become important to resistance movements that popped up in Paraguay throughout the early 1980s.

   With the Agrarian Leagues crushed after Painful Easter, Stroessner's regime moved swiftly. Entire villages were emptied, ancestral lands seized, and vast plantations carved into the countryside. What had once been communal farmland was now controlled by agribusiness, fueling the dictatorship's economy at the expense of those who had tilled the soil for generations. Stroessner joined with several other right wing South American dictatorships and the US as part of Operation Condor, an effort to destroy left wing resistance to business interests in the continent. Stroessner's regime, flush with American cash and training, as well as intelligence sharing with the dictatorships of Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Bolivia, and Peru, would proceed as if they were unstoppable. Of course, the peasants of the regions of Caazapá and Caaguazú had different ideas.

   Paraguay's peasantry started to take matters into their own hands. In these agri-heavy regions, peasants started taking part in "land reclamations", staging occupations of traditionally indigenous lands held by massive corporations. During these occupations, they often would make big communal pots of Bori-Bori, ladling out soup to all the participants. These protests went on throughout 1980, and the regime's repression engine would spring into action.

  In Caazapá, 30 peasants were killed by military forces and 300 arrested. In Caaguazú, 10 peasants were tortured and made to disappear into the state repression engine as part of Operation Condor's campaign of anti-left repression. One of the survivors, who was aged 12 at the time, took to a truth and reconciliation commission to show the bullet that remained in her, 42 years later. But, what was most notable, was the response to these actions.

   The crackdown was brutal, but it did not go unnoticed. Across Paraguay, and beyond its borders, people refused to let the resistance be forgotten. In homes, in quiet kitchens, in gatherings of exiles and activists, pots of Bori-Bori simmered in tribute to the peasants who refused to surrender.

   For the first time, the OAS (Organization of American States) would issue condemnation of the Paraguayan regime. Even the US was forced to grapple with what was very much becoming a starkly brutal regime. Some organizations, such as the Paraguayan Catholic Church, would begin to turn against the regime in totality.

   Bori-Bori is simply put, one of the best soups I've ever had. It's delicious, filling, and easy to make. It will definitely become a staple of my dinners in the future.

Bori-Bori (Cheese Dumpling Soup)

Yields: 4 to 6 servings | Prep time: 20 minutes | Cook time: 1 hour

Dumpling Ingredients:

1. 1 cup cornmeal
2. 1/2 cup grated cheese (queso Paraguay or mozzarella)
3. 1 large egg
4. 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
5. 1/2 teaspoon salt

Soup Ingredients:

1. 1 whole chicken (about 3 to 4 pounds) or 6 cups chicken broth
2. 1 medium onion, chopped
3. 1 medium tomato, diced
4. 1 red bell pepper, diced
5. 2 tablespoons neutral oil (for example vegetable or corn oil)
6. 1 teaspoon salt (or to taste)
7. 1/2 teaspoon black pepper (or to taste)
8. 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped, for garnish

Instructions:

1. If using whole chicken, place it in a large pot with 8 cups water, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and a pinch of pepper. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 45 to 60 minutes until cooked. Remove chicken, shred meat, and strain broth. If using pre-made broth, proceed to step 2.
2. In the same pot, heat oil over medium heat. Sauté onion, tomato, and bell pepper until soft, about 5 to 7 minutes, to make a sofrito.
3. Add broth to the pot and bring to a simmer.
4. In a medium mixing bowl, combine cornmeal, grated cheese, egg, butter, and salt. Mix until a dough forms. Roll into small balls (about 1 inch diameter).
5. Drop dumplings into simmering broth. Cook for 10 to 15 minutes, until they float and are cooked through.
6. Return shredded chicken to the pot. Taste and adjust seasoning.
7. Serve hot, garnished with cilantro.

The Sandwinada (Sandwich de Empanada): Bread of Liberation

   Empanadas are a staple of not just Paraguay, but the entirety of Latin America, coming from Spain, and are pastries often filled with ground beef, olives, peppers, sometimes eggs, and a variety of other ingredients. They are a portable snack, often sold by street vendors. But in Paraguay, in the late 1980s, street vendors started adding another layer of portability, and putting it in a sandwich bun, often covered in sauce and other toppings. The Sandwinada was built for movement; grabbing, going, eating on the run. But in the late 1980s, Paraguay's workers weren't just moving between shifts. They were moving toward revolution, marching in the streets, raising their voices against a dictatorship that had gripped their country for decades.

   In 1987, Alfredo Stroessner had been in power for 33 years, utilizing a mix of massive repression, unquestioning loyalty from the military, and massive foreign investments in the economy in order to stay in power. It seemed however, that as the 80s drew to a close, Stroessner's luck was finally running out. Stroessner's Paraguay had long relied on foreign investment and agribusiness expansion to supplement his brutal campaign of state repression and austerity in order to maintain a veneer of a booming economy. However, the infrastructure projects that had fueled that boom in the 1970s (much of it coming from Operation Condor kickbacks) had dried up. Inflation surged, wages stagnated, and the working class, already burdened by decades of repression, felt the weight of economic decline like an anvil around their neck.

   Street vendors, factory workers, and rural laborers struggled to make ends meet. The Sandwinada was born in the streets of Asunción at this time, a way for workers to meet the demands of needing to work longer hours, a cheap portable meal for those who could no longer afford more extravagant dishes. As the economic disaster deepened, other cracks in the regime's invincibility began to show.

   For decades, the Catholic Church of Paraguay remained neutral in politics, even as other Latin American archbishops, inspired by liberation theology, began to speak out. However, after the visible brutality against those involved in the land reform movement, it could no longer ignore the human rights abuses and economic suffering inflicted by the Stroessner regime. Priests and bishops began speaking out against repression, and forming liberation theology-tinged Christian Workers' Centers and Basic Christian Communities to support the working class, organizations that were relatively untouchable as they had official Church support.

   Archbishop Ismael Rolón Silvero, offered a seat on the Council of State in the country's constitution, refused to take it, signaling the church's complete break from the regime. In rural areas, priests provided shelter to activists, while in urban areas, Catholic youth groups mobilized protests. The church's involvement gave legitimacy to the growing resistance, offering a shield to workers, students, and peasants as they began to take to the streets.

   While the dictatorship long suppressed labor unions, the worsening economic conditions and open support from the Catholic Church spurred the long dormant voice of labor into action. Strikes became commonplace, and the worker-led shutdowns put further pressure on the economy. In the countryside, peasants renewed their land reclamations, putting pressure on the agribusinesses that were Stroessner's allies.

   By 1987, Stroessner's grip on power was visibly weakening. The economy was in freefall, international pressure was mounting, and protests were growing bolder. Workers organized strikes, students held rallies, and opposition leaders called for an end to the dictatorship. The Sandwinada, once a simple street food, became a staple of protest gatherings, handed out to demonstrators, eaten between chants, and shared among those marching for liberation.

   In 1988, It was announced that Pope John Paul II would visit Paraguay. Ahead of this event, Archbishop Ismael Rolón Silvero would lead a "silent procession" through the streets of Asunción, something that was largely seen as a direct protest of the regime. 35,000 joined the procession, the largest public demonstration in Paraguay's history to that point. Many had Sandwinadas in hand, and it involved the Catholic faithful, workers, students, rural peasants, and others from the entire cross-section of Paraguayan society. It signaled that Stroessner's position was not very strong at all.

   Stroessner lifted the State of Emergency that had been in place since 1954 ahead of the 1988 elections. But the elections still had Stroessner as the only viable candidate, winning 89 percent of the vote, a number which no one thought was legitimate. In addition, state repression continued, even as protests continued to ramp up. Internally, Stroessner's Colorado Party began having doubts. The "Traditionalist" faction of the party began to favor a less repressive way to rule. Stroessner tried to have that faction of the party purged, but for many it was a step too far.

   On February 3, 1989, Alfredo Stroessner was ousted the same way he came to power, a military coup. General Andrés Rodríguez overthrew Alfredo Stroessner, bringing the longest-standing regime in South America's history to an end. The man who had ruled with an iron grip for 35 years, who had crushed dissent with military boots and economic control, fled into exile in Brazil. But in the streets of Asunción, there was no silence, only the roar of victory. Workers, students, peasants, the faithful all took to the streets, Sandwinadas in hand, biting into their meals as they tasted the first breaths of freedom. Multiparty elections were held later that year for the first time since 1954. But, it was a long time before the brutality of the regime was truly faced.

   A truth and reconciliation commission was formed in the 2000s that continued to uncover horrific facts about the regime that were buried, giving some closure to victims. To date, the Colorado Party has only lost at the ballot box once, to a Liberation Theology following Jesuit priest leftist named Fernando Lugo. However, he was overthrown in a "Bloodless Bureaucratic Coup" before his term could be finished. Stroessner's Colorado Party rules Paraguay to this very day. Stroessner himself died in Brazil in exile in 2006, at age 96, an age substantially higher than most of his victims got to see. The Sandwinada also remains, a portable testament to the power and mobility of the working class, a reminder that should they ever choose to, they can overthrow tyrants.

   What can I say about the Sandwinada? It's a sandwich stuffed with empanadas. What's not to love?

Sandwinada (Empanada Sandwich)

Yields: 4 sandwiches | Prep time: 45 minutes | Cook time: 20 minutes

Empanada Dough Ingredients (yields about 12 to 15 discs):

1. 3 cups all-purpose flour
2. 1 teaspoon salt
3. 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cold and cubed
4. 1 large egg
5. 1/2 cup ice water (or more as needed)

Beef Filling Ingredients:

1. 1 pound ground beef
2. 1 medium onion, finely chopped
3. 1 medium bell pepper, diced
4. 2 garlic cloves, minced
5. 1 teaspoon ground cumin
6. 1 teaspoon paprika
7. 1/2 cup green olives, chopped
8. 1 hard-boiled egg, diced (optional)
9. Salt and pepper to taste
10. Oil for frying (if frying)

Sandwich Ingredients (per sandwich):

1. 1 soft bread roll (for example pan francés, bolillo, or ciabatta)
2. 2 tablespoons tartar sauce (salsa tártara) or chipotle mayo
3. 2 lettuce leaves
4. 2 tomato slices
5. Optional: 1 slice queso Paraguay (or mozzarella), 1 fried egg, or 1 slice ham

Instructions:

1. Make the empanada dough: In a large bowl, whisk together flour and salt. Cut in cold butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. In a small bowl, whisk egg with ice water. Gradually add wet ingredients to dry, mixing until a dough forms. Do not overmix. Gather dough into a ball, flatten slightly, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
2. Prepare the filling: In a medium skillet, heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium heat. Sauté onion, garlic, and bell pepper until soft, about 5 minutes. Add beef, cumin, paprika, salt, and pepper; cook until browned, about 8 minutes. Stir in olives and egg (if using). Remove from heat and cool completely.
3. Form empanadas: On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough to about 1/8 inch thickness. Cut out 5 to 6 inch diameter circles using a round cutter or an inverted bowl. Place 2 tablespoons filling in the center of each circle, fold over, and crimp edges with a fork to seal.
4. Cook empanadas: To fry, heat 2 inches of oil in a deep skillet to 350°F (175°C) and fry empanadas until golden, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels. To bake, place on a preheated baking sheet at 400°F (200°C) and bake for 15 to 18 minutes until golden.
5. Assemble the sandwich: Slice the bread roll open (not all the way through). Spread 2 tablespoons tartar sauce or mayo inside. Add lettuce and tomato, then place one empanada inside. Add optional cheese, egg, or ham if desired. Press gently and serve warm.