I love empanadas. I have since I was a young girl and my mother used to make them for me. The fact that empanadas take on an almost entirely different form here in Mazatlan does nothing to dampen my enthusiasm for them.

The ones my mother used to make were what I would call finger pies: small, individual, folded-over pies that you could comfortably eat in two or three bites. They were always savory – meat filled – but with just a few raisins to add a hint of sweetness and a few almond slivers to add a little crunch. Delicious.

The empanadas I have been offered here in Mazatlan are always bigger – hand pies. They are also always sweet – a dessert pie. Completely different, and yet somehow the same. I love them equally.

Strangely enough, I don't tend to like other hand held pies that are a close cousin to the Mazatlan empanada. Take Mrs. Baird's fried pies for instance, or the infinitely better, but less accessible, Mindy Lu's. These type of commercial pies miss fully 50% of the point of a good hand held pie – the crust. They consist of a thin, unartful, flavorless crust overstuffed with way too much sweet goo.

What my mother's empanadas and Mazatlan empanadas (and Chuck's mother's fried pies too, by the way) have in common is a beautiful, flavorful, crispy-but-tender crust. Something that is worthy of enjoying all on it's own. They also don't overdo the filling – just enough to give a little oomf to the crust experience.

You can get an empanada just about anywhere around here. I see them on the counter at our tortilleria, the convenience store, peddled from carts, and carried by vendors along the beach. I never buy the commercial ones. I favor the ones that are obviously lovingly handmade by somebody's mother.

Every time I see one, I can't help but pause. There is something about the empanada that just calls to me. If I get as far as asking, "¿Que tipo?", which I do 99% of the time, the answer doesn't matter, I am buying them. The question should be a screener in case the stuffing is anything really strange or unappetizing, but for me it's just a way of making conversation – warming up to the purchase. I know this, because I buy them even when the answer is sorpresa - surprise.