The Fried Dough Ho

The Los Angeles adventure of discovering fried dough continued after sampling both a baked Argentine version and a Colombian empanada with a fried corn exterior. We arrived at Merlos and like our previous visits to other small, ethnic restaurants in the neighborhood, was surprised at the lack of customers considering it was a Friday night. During our brief visit, we did witness several customers come in a pick-up large to-go orders so I assume — and hope — the restaurant thrives on its local community for take-out.

Along with a savory, beef-stuffed empanada, we spied on the menu an empanada con leche a seemingly sweet version which we found worthy of the experiment. While the Colombian empanada was encased in the crispy, corn-based masa here the offering from El Salvador is a wheat-based pocket of fried goodness with the hearty filling meatier and more robust. Along with beef, we could detect carrots, potatoes, onions and was advised that additional seasonings include bell pepper and achiote. The exterior crust was delightfully crispy with no hint of greasiness. Served alongside was a light slaw intensely reminiscent of Japanese tsukemono; finely chopped cabbage simply dressed with slightly sweetened white vinegar. It is hard to not compare the Colombian empanada with the Salvadorean one. While the Colombian empanada’s filling was finely puréed and more subtle in its seasonings, the empanada from El Salvador had more coarsely chopped filling ingredients which made the flavors more defined and interesting.

The sweet empanada con leche — which technically could be defined as a stuffed bread or pastry — proved to be a bit of a misnomer as a fried dough, although we didn’t know it until it arrived. Not an actual dough, this was a hollowed-out plantain which had been filled with a vanilla pudding and fried. The moisture from the banana made this fried offering not as crunchy as one might like, but both my friend and I were pleasantly surprised at the simplicity of the ingredients being not too overtly sweet and quite engaging. It would have been very easy to make this teeth-achingly sweet but the simple vanilla pudding did not overpower the sweetness of the banana. Nor did the richness of the banana overwhelm the sugars in the pudding. The combination reminded me of a classic banana cream pie without the crust or meringue.

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This was sort of a bait-and-switch. Coming down to Los Angeles, I asked the friend with whom I was staying to come up with some fried dough offerings for dinner. We had a grand night of it (six stops in all!), but one of the immediate suggestions which came to mind were empanadas. And fortunately, the South Bay has a wide variety of Central and South American offerings against which we were going to compare.

To start the evening, my friend brought me to El Gaucho Meat Market, a perfectly delightful Argentine market in Redondo Beach. It really is an exceptionally well-stocked store and it seems, a well-stocked meat market. That was rather impressive and if you walk all the way to the back of the crowded space, it opens up to display a fairly large seating area and a small food service counter. Shame on me for not being cognizant of what other foods were being offered, because I knew we were here for empanadas.

For $1.65 each, we tried two of their three flavors; spinach and beef (chicken is also available). The bait-and-switch is that Argentine empanadas are baked and not fried. I am slightly upset with myself for wasting the calories on it, but I can appreciate the comparison check next to what was to come that evening; Colombian and Salvadorean empanadas which were fried.

When I lived in SoCal, I really loved Empanadas Place but those that are offered here at El Gaucho are not nearly as good, although for the price they were not that bad. Too wishy-washy? Well, I used to live in Redondo Beach and a decade ago, Empanadas Place had a branch there on Artesia Boulevard, so it was close by, inexpensive, and incredibly tasty. And fried. El Gaucho’s were gummy and heavy. The spinach filling was decent enough and tasted so much like spanikopita I wondered if they included cheese. The beef was spiced nicely but I found the binding ingredient to be a tad pasty. This all makes it sound like I wasn’t enjoying myself which is not the case. Again, for the price they were perfectly acceptable. But unfortunately, it mostly made me long for those which I knew to be better.

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Redondo Beach, CA 90278
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I grew up with a Father from the south and was well-indoctrinated with his version of hushpuppies. They came from a box mix that I am not even sure is still on the market these days. Dad would make them whenever we had pan-fried trout or catfish or other southern delicacies that he recalled from his youth in Albandy, Georgia. He would tell me the etymology (which I later learned was printed on the side of the box), about how these cornmeal-based fritters’ name came from hunters or fisherman who would throw them to their canine companions to quiet them; literally, “hush, Puppy!” A slightly savory batter, the best hushpuppies I’ve had are studded with scallions and made with buttermilk, fried to golden goodness and served with butter.

At San Francisco’s 1300 Fillmore, southern cuisine is elevated to a more elegant setting. I have dined often on their shrimp-and-grits, fried chicken, and braised short ribs. It was a quiet evening when I stopped in to the bar area for a quick bite and saw shrimp hushpuppies on the appetizer menu. Somewhat anticipating bits of chopped shrimp in the cornmeal batter, I was surprised to see that the dough completely encased a whole shrimp, with the tail protruding out. The coarse hushpuppy batter was acting more like a tempura batter than its own vessel, but I was pleasantly surprised by the tenderness and richness of the batter. Served with an ancho chile remoulade, I found the flavor rich and not too overpowering for the delicate taste of the shrimp. Not a traditional hushpuppy by any means, but still quite enjoyable!

I admit it — I get pretty psyched when I see savory versions of fried dough. Well, truth be told, I’ve only written about one version and so far, I experienced a total of three that I can remember. It was an unexpected surprise when some darling friends took me to dinner at Michael Chiarello’s Bottega in the Napa Valley (Yountville, to be exact) and I was directed towards a fried dough appetizer. I didn’t even recognize it as such when I read it on the menu: Organic Prosciutto “house cured”, pasta fritta, Lambrusco

“Fritta” means fried and it slipped by me until Ron described it. Well of course I had to have it… Served on a large platter were four massive fritters; pasta dough studded with rosemary, deep fried, and then rolled in Parmesan cheese. These warm globules of goodness were served alongside paper-thin slices of prosciutto which had been drizzled with olive oil and topped with a few chunks of mango.

What threw me was the bowl of Lambrusco. When the platter arrived, I hadn’t remembered everything that was written and I thought the bowl was some form of dipping sauce. Ron was the one who told me it was to drink and I felt pretty foolish, dunking the tender, cheesy wonders in the bubbly cold wine. But when a bite of the fritter and prosciutto were taken and followed by the Lambrusco, I had the “ah-ha” moment. The lightly bubbly wine was clean and bright next to the rich sharpness of the cheese coating to the dense, succulent dough.

I give great credit to Chiarello and his team on this dish. It would be easy to make a dough that is leaden and heavy and these were not. It would be easy to under cook them and there was no detection of a gooey, raw interior.  A traditional “dipping sauce” might seem an easier complement but by pairing it with meat and wine and fruit were inventive and original. Kudos are deserved and this Fried Dough Ho couldn’t be happier.