Any gringo who’s invested time in learning about Mexican cuisine knows who author Diana Kennedy is. The appealingly crotchety doyenne of Mexican cooking and longtime British ex-pat (she’s lived all over Mexico since 1957) is the author of many definitive cookbooks, including Regional Mexican Cooking. She’s been awarded the Order of the Aztec Eagle (a knighthood of sorts for non-Mexicans) by the Congress of the Republic of Mexico for her contributions to the documentation of regional Mexican cuisine.
Basically, she’s hardcore.
But how she describes corn tortillas in her book, The Tortilla Book (1975; 1991), is the opposite of academic or cerebral or Aztec eagle-esque. It’s from the heart.
Eating tortillas for the first time, you may wonder what the fuss is about—in other words, they may leave you cold. Then one day you will begin to crave one; unconsciously they will have become a passion, an addiction for life.
I read this today and I thought, This is so true. Tortillas are one of those things that grow on you. They’re purposefully bland, but have a sweetness to them; they provide a safe place—a comforting foil to the bold, salty, chili-laden food that is often Mexican food. Good tortillas have a chew, a give and take, and when warmed they fill the whole house with that aroma that’s comforting and earthy. (I just asked Joe how to describe this delicious smell and he said, “Corny? I don’t know. You’re the writer.” He’s right though. Tortillas smell kind of corny.)
But as divine as a tortilla can be, a bad tortilla—an old tortilla, a poorly made one—can be horrible: A crackly, dry, unaromatic, flavorless pancake.
In San Francisco today, most restaurants use tortillas from tortillarias, but on occasion some “fancier” spots have chosen to do them by hand (usually using a press). Interestingly Kennedy, the old-school proponent herself, puts “handmade tortillas” under a column entitled, “Types of Tortillas to Avoid.” She advises to steer clear of “The much-touted Ameircan handmade ones (from San Francisco and elsewhere) that are far too thick and clumsy.” She throws San Francisco under the bus! Not Chicago, or LA, or Santa Fe. I have to figure she has or had a tortilla beef with someone here.
Reading this reminded me of when we started Tacolicious: There was a brief debate about whether or not we should make our own tortillas. (Which in a city full of chefs that want to milk their own cows, seemed like the right thing to do.) But Joe and I agreed—without ever having noticed this part of Kennedy’s tortilla cookbook—that so many places that make their own tortillas in-house around here often make them too thick and doughy! It’s not necessarily for the better; it’s sometimes for the worse.
For Tacolicious, we use SF’s La Palma tortillas. They’re made every day—not “by hand” though—and they’re great, particularly the morning we pick them up. Even slightly better might be the tortillas that Joe’s brings home from Modesto. The south-west side of Modesto has Mexican supermarkets (imagine Ranch 99 but with ceiling fans strung with colorful streamers) and the one we go to, Mi Pueblo (1612 Crows Landing Rd., 209-537-5759), has a little mini conveyor belt that pumps out tortillas (with a lot of human help as you can see above).
Fresh off the press, the tortillas are not too thick or too thin. They’re everything a tortilla should be. Which is perfect, humble—and addictive.