Senegalese Fataya (Fried Pastries)

by Kamau Clark

Ingredients (makes about 12 pastries)

• 1 package Goya empanada discos (discs for turnovers), thawed
  
• Filling (best choice for me is beef):
  
  • Beef: ½ pound ground beef
    
  • Chicken: ½ pound ground chicken
    
  • Veggie: 1 cup cooked glass noodles + ½ cup shredded carrots + ½ cup cabbage (or other veggies of choice)
    
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
  
• 1 clove garlic, minced
  
• 1 small chili pepper (optional, for spice)
  
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  
• ½ teaspoon black pepper
  
• ½ teaspoon paprika
  
• 1 teaspoon Maggi cube (or bouillon)
  
• 1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped
  
• Oil for frying: Peanut oil (researched as the best high-heat frying oil, gives crispness and clean flavor)
  
• Alternatives if allergy: Canola oil or sunflower oil (also high smoke point and neutral flavor)
  

Directions

1. Heat a pan with a little oil. Add onion, garlic, and chili pepper and cook until softened.
   
2. Add your chosen filling:
   
   • Beef or chicken: Cook until browned.
     
   • Veggie: Stir-fry veggies first, then add cooked glass noodles.
     
3. Stir in tomato paste, Maggi cube, black pepper, and paprika. Cook until filling is well seasoned. Mix in parsley and let cool.
   
4. Lay out thawed Goya discs. Place 1 tablespoon of filling in the center.
   
5. Fold discs in half into crescents. Seal edges firmly with a fork.
   
6. Heat peanut oil (or canola or sunflower oil) in a deep pan over medium-high heat. Fry pastries until golden brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels.
   
7. Serve hot with spicy tomato sauce or chili dipping sauce.
   

Allergen Label

Contains wheat. Filling may include meat (beef or chicken). Peanut oil is used for frying. Vegetarian option is available.

Personal Food Culture Connection

When I think about Senegalese Fataya, I immediately compare them to tacos. For me, they always felt like the Senegalese version of a taco or even like the fried chalupas you see at Taco Bell. Growing up, this was the one food I truly looked forward to eating. My mom cooked many different dishes, but I was a very picky eater. Fataya was plain enough for me to enjoy without complaint, and that made it stand out from everything else. It was simple, filling, and satisfying. It gave me exactly what I wanted without overwhelming me.

I was also a spoiled little brat about it. I only wanted my Fataya a certain way. If it did not have cheese, I would get upset. Sometimes the Fataya would be made with fish, and I absolutely hated the fish ones. Other times it had the clear glass noodles inside, and I could not stand those either. I only wanted beef and cheese, nothing else. If it came any other way, I would throw a fit and try to make my own. To me, that was the perfect Fataya, and I refused to eat it any other way.

I remember helping my mom prepare them. I would scoop in the beef and cheese, fold the dough, and then press the edges with a fork to seal them. I always tried to make mine look neat, even if they came out uneven, even though it wasn't possible for me to make them uneven, but theoretically. My mom would drop them into the hot oil, and the kitchen would fill with the sizzling sound of frying and the smell of onions and seasoning. It was fun to cook and fun to eat. Fataya was also one of the only fried foods I enjoyed. I did not like crab, ribs, gumbo, or dishes with bones because they felt like too much work. I hated biting into food and finding a bone, and I did not like complicated flavors that felt overwhelming. Fataya was the opposite. It was straightforward, easy to eat, and reliable.

In Senegal, Fataya is more than just a snack. It is a common street food, sold at markets, roadside stands, and small shops. It is also something people make at home for gatherings, parties, and religious holidays. Children grow up eating Fataya on the streets after school, and families often share them during Ramadan when breaking the fast. They are portable, quick to make, and easy to share, which is why they are such a big part of everyday life. Fataya is one of those foods that has no boundaries because everyone in Senegal knows them, eats them, and connects them to a sense of comfort and community.

Even though I grew up far from Senegal, eating Fataya connected me back to that culture in a way that was simple but powerful. At the same time, Fataya was also connected to the environment I grew up in. Living in California, I was surrounded by Mexican food, especially tacos and burritos. Fataya reminded me of those foods, and sometimes I would even combine the two. I would eat Fataya with sour cream, salsa, or lettuce, treating it almost like a taco but in a fried shell. It felt like I was blending two cultures together in a single meal. My background became a mix of Senegalese and Latin influences, and Fataya represented that mixture perfectly. For me, food has always been about what feels natural, and Fataya gave me a way to express that combination.

Looking back, I realize why this dish mattered so much to me. It was not just because it was plain or easy to enjoy, but because it gave me a connection to my mom, my culture, and the environment I grew up in. Cooking Fataya with my mom is one of the ways I learned about tradition, even if at the time I just thought I was helping press dough with a fork. Eating Fataya in California while thinking of tacos reminded me that food cultures can blend, and that you can carry home with you even when you are far away. For me, Fataya represents comfort, identity, and the ability of food to cross cultural boundaries.