I stumbled across a book today that I simply adored three years ago, but I haven’t thought about it much since. The Americas, by Felipe Fernadez Armesto. That I have not thought of it is my failing, not the book’s. Simply put, he considers the history of our hemisphere, of our two Americas, as a whole. He finds in his history a common American identity for all of us, natives, anglos, and latins. And that is just so… beautiful.
Blessed are the peacemakers.
And the tortillero, too, while we’re at it. Because the tortilla goes by many other names, in many other cultures, always with slightly different ingredients, but nevertheless sharing a clear taxonomic resemblance. A recipe for flour tortillas isn’t all that far from being naan, or chapati, or music bread. Add an egg and some milk to a corn tortilla dough and you’ll find that you have the makings of cornbread. (I like a little yogurt rather than milk.) Taken altogether, you begin to see breads as part of a continuum, and baking loses some of its imposing mystique. So your naan didn’t really rise, so what? It might not be “perfect” naan, but it makes a fine tortilla. Underneath all the regional partisanship, we’re all really just breadmakers.
So don’t let anyone tell you that there is only one way to make an “authentic” tortilla, or anything else for that matter, because I guarantee you that there is someone, not a stone’s throw away, who has a totally different, and equally “authentic” recipe. That said, some tortillas are better than others, and this is not, generally, due to some mystic skill that the tortillero possesses, but rather it’s recipe and technique , and these can be learned. Experiment–but don’t just wing it, from scratch, every single time: all too often the real motivation behind the fancy-footloosery of certain cooks is just plain laziness.* Keep track of what you’re doing, and if you like what you come up with, do more of it next time. After all, a recipe never tells you everything you need to know, to cook a dish, so there’s always a learning curve.
Take these recipes as reference points, not as the final word on tortillas:
Straight-up Masa Tortillas:
- 2 cups of masa harina
- 1 tsp. baking powder (not strictly necessary)
- 1.5 cups water
- 2 tsp. salt, dissolved in the water (again, not strictly necessary)
“Corn” Tortillas:
- 2 cups of masa harina
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tsp. baking powder (not strictly necessary)
- 2 cups water
- 2 tsp. salt, dissolved in the water (again, not strictly necessary)
Mix masa and baking powder. Dissolve the salt in the water, which should be a little warmer than body temperature, or gently warm to the touch. This allows the salt to distribute itself uniformly. Pour a little more than half of the water into the dry mix, and stir with a spoon until it starts to come together. If there is still dry, unattached flour dusting the globs of dough, add another splash of water and stir, and repeat if you must, but only until all the dry flour is clumped together. When the dough has come together, start kneading with your hands until you have a nice, slightly sticky ball of dough. Let it sit for about a half hour, to allow the water to distribute evenly.
It’s pretty obvious that what makes these two recipes different is that cup of flour. What it does is add gluten, which makes for a far more flexible tortilla. Strictly masa tortillas are fairly brittle, and I find I don’t use them all that often; they’re best topped high, and then eaten with knife and fork, sort of like a pancake. For tacos and eating with your hands in general, you’ll want to use a mix of corn and wheat flours.
Pinch off a piece of dough and roll it into a ball about 1.5 inches across. Now you’ll take two pieces of relatively thick plastic (I cut mine out of shopping bags, just be sure to use the side that hasn’t been printed on) and you put one piece down, a ball of dough, and place the second piece on top. Now take a glass pie pan, if you have it, or anything with a flat, strong bottom, and press, to a thickness of a little less than a 1/4 inch. I usually do this in two stages: I give it a press, take the press off, and check to see that I’m pressing evenly.
Peel off the top piece of plastic. Keep the bottom piece on for now, so you can stack your prepared tortillas.
Take your heaviest pan and heat to a low-medium temperature. Add fat. You can add a teaspoon, or enough for deep-frying: either would be considered traditional. I prefer lard, or bacon grease, or duck fat, or schmaltz: any animal-derived fat is good: the meaty flavor of the fat brings us to satiety sooner than a more neutral, flavorless oil like peanut or corn, but just about any fat will do, except maybe olive oil. If the fat smokes in the pan, the pan is too hot. Turn it down, but toss in your first tortilla anyway (the excess heat will jump into the tortilla, bringing the temperature of the fat back down below the smoke point). When the tortilla starts to puff, flip it–it should only be a minute or two, and less on the other side.
The spots on your tortilla should be brown, not black. If they are, drop your temperature a little bit or cut your cooking time by ten seconds or so. Slide the tortillas into a folded towel to stay warm (lined with paper towel if you like). Serve immediately.
*If you’re offended by this statement, look into your heart and see if it’s true. If not, what do you care what some shabby cook says?
The Feral Vermonter 