Even a badly made fresh tortilla is better than the stuff that comes in those plastic bags. Trust me: I made several bad tortillas this morning.
A few years ago, I had the opportunity to watch masa being ground at La Palma Mexicatessan, a store in San Francisco’s Mission neighborhood, where in addition to picking up queso fresco and Jarritos, you can also buy freshly ground corn flour with which to make tortillas, pupusas, and atole.
The corn, which had been prepared with calcium hydroxide - or lime - and was swollen with moisture, was poured into a large grinding machine. Inside, heavy grinding stones made from lava rock crushed and ground the kernels into masa which fluttered to the bottom of the tank as light as snowflakes. From there, it was mixed with lard and water and stirred into a thick, heavy dough. Women with dexterous hands slapped the masa quebrida into thick cakes called pupusas – a specialty of El Salvador - filled with cheese or meat and fried on a large griddle to order. Their fingers darted over their creations on the hot griddle as they flipped them over to brown both sides. The smell of freshly cooked corn filled the kitchen.
It was lovely.
So last night, while wandering through the neighborhood with a friend, I stopped off at La Palma again and bought two pounds of masa quebrida (the alternative was masa simple, or corn flour without lard). The plan was to make tortillas with breakfast this morning. That was the plan. I made the tortillas, and scrambled eggs, but I was reminded once again it’s usually the simplest seeming things that take the most skill. While I watched the women at La Palma slap out beautifully shaped, almost perfectly round pupusas and tortillas with just a few pats of their hands, mine were – well – not beautiful. But they were delicious. Obviously, I need to practice.