Empanadicious — Restaurant in Bellevue

My journey to this supposed haven of Latin American delight was paved with the best intentions, a hopeful yearning for a simple, satisfying meal. What I received, however, was a masterclass in culinary disappointment, a meal so profoundly unsettling it made my previous gastronomical misadventures feel like Michelin-starred dining in comparison. I arrived well past the lunch rush, anticipating a moment of peaceful indulgence, but the atmosphere itself was a dense, suffocating cloud of unidentifiable aromas and the oppressive weight of general malaise. It felt less like a restaurant and more like a waiting room for a very unpleasant appointment you never actually made. The air hung thick, not with the inviting scent of fresh pastries or savory fillings, but with something far more unsettling, a stale, cloying presence that clung to the back of your throat. Even the lighting seemed to actively conspire against comfort, casting a sickly, unflattering glow on everything and everyone. My order was simple enough: two ham and cheese empanadas and an Italian Napoleon for dessert. How could such straightforward items go so wrong? The empanadas, when they finally arrived, looked… tired. Limp, lethargic, as if they had given up on life long before they reached my table. The crust, which one expects to be a testament to a skilled hand and proper frying, was instead a flabby, uninspired casing, possessing neither crispness nor structural integrity. It yielded with a sad resignation, revealing a filling that was equally unenthusiastic. The ham and cheese within were a monochromatic blob, a congealed mass devoid of any distinct flavor or texture. It was as if their very essence had been leached away, leaving behind a bland, oily residue that coated the mouth with a film of pure regret. Each bite was a grim testament to the absence of care, a flavor profile so utterly forgettable it actively fought against any notion of enjoyment. And then, the Italian Napoleon. Oh, the anticipation! The promise of delicate layers, rich cream, and a satisfying sweetness. What materialized before me, however, was a monument to shattered expectations. It was less a pastry and more a collapsing structure of questionable origin, a gelatinous, vaguely sweet amalgam that defied any conventional understanding of what a Napoleon should be. The "layers" were a homogenous, soggy mess, utterly devoid of the flakiness that defines the dessert. The cream, if one could even call it that, was an overly sweet, artificial goo that bore no resemblance to anything fresh or appealing. It left a cloying, saccharine aftertaste that clung stubbornly, demanding repeated sips of water in a desperate attempt to cleanse the palate. The entire experience of consuming it was a sticky, disappointing journey into the depths of a sugar-laden abyss, an insult to the very concept of dessert. The staff, when they deigned to acknowledge my presence, seemed equally as disengaged as the food. Their demeanor was one of detached indifference, as if customer service was an irritating chore rather than a core function of their job. Asking for anything felt like an imposition, a disruption to their carefully cultivated air of apathy. There was no warmth, no welcome, no genuine interaction. Just a series of perfunctory movements and a pervasive sense of being an unwelcome interruption. The entire environment was so unwelcoming, so utterly devoid of any comfort or hospitality, that the thought of addressing my profound disappointment felt like an insurmountable hurdle. I paid the bare minimum, a silent protest against the culinary travesty I had just endured, and fled the premises. The lingering taste of greasy disappointment and artificial sweetness followed me out the door, a persistent reminder of a meal that actively detracted from my day. The simple, unpretentious burger I later acquired from a fast-food establishment felt like a gourmet delight in comparison, a testament to just how low the bar had been set by this purported empanada restaurant. Save yourself...

Nice place and the lady was extremely kind. Food was not my favorite. Not the type of empanada I am used to. I would definitely go back to try the sweets that looked so good. I am sure they use high quality ingredients, but it was more expensive than I expected and for the food it...

Delicious empanadas! Chef / owner Daniella went to Le Cordon Blue and it shows in the quality of the food. Even gave specific reheat instructions for each type of empanada, and the fascinating history of the Berliner pastry. Must try for high quality Spanish...