A couple of weeks ago the students in my preschool class did a fun cooking project. They cut up the ingredients to make salsa, and then they got to help make corn tortillas from scratch, squishing the dough in between the paddles of the tortilla press. The teachers cooked the tortillas, and everyone got to eat some of the yummy-ness. There were enough left over for me to have a couple, and I devoured them.
I kept thinking about how delicious those fresh, soft, warm tortillas were, and I finally decided to go ahead and try to make some myself. In a gung-ho mood I bought the masa flour, read the directions, checked a few additional recipes online for any extra tips, and then set out, full of hope.
My first attempt was edible. Barely.
I did not have a tortilla press to evenly squish the dough into flat tortillas. I compromised by squishing the dough in between sheets of wax paper, using a pie plate to apply pressure. They turned out lovely and round, and I happily put them on the hot griddle. I let them cook for a bit, then flipped them, and kind of looked at them suspiciously. They weren’t looking… right. They were pale and dull and not at all appetizing. I layered them on a kitchen towel in a Tupperware container, and kept hoping they would improve as I cooked the remaining dough. Spoiler alert: They did not.
It turns out that they were too thick, and quite possibly over-mixed. They were dense and didn’t roll up so much as they sort of folded in a broken half-circle when we attempted to add our lovely salsa and cheese toppings. They tasted okay – not great, but okay – but they were downright ugly. My beloved husband Matt is a brave soul, and he manfully ate a few with a mild, “They’re alright.”
Back at school, I shared my tale of woe with my table at lunch. I reminded them about their cooking project, and told the kids how I had tried to make some tortillas at home. I told them mixed the dough, rolled it into balls, squished the balls, and tried to cook them, but that they hadn’t turned out right.
One of my students listened to my tale of woe with grave concern. When I concluded that the cooking project hadn’t turned out right, she nodded knowingly and commiserated, “Were they burned?”
I assured her that they hadn’t burned, but she remained unconvinced. She let me explain again that they just hadn’t been right, and then she informed me with flat authority, “They were burned.”
The following week I made a second attempt, trying to avoid over-mixing the masa flour and water. I squished the tortillas again without the press, but this time I tried rolling the dough between the wax paper with a rolling pin. These turned out wildly misshapen, but definitely flatter – and they cooked a little more appetizingly. (The emphasis here is on “a little.”) They were edible, but again, not the picture-perfect, soft and chewy, light and delicious tortillas of my memory. Can you hear the sigh?
I now have a lead on a press to borrow, and I’m feeling determined to keep trying until I get something that approximates the loveliness of the tortillas in class. I figure I’ll keep going until I use up the bag of flour, at least. (Actually, that may be another part of my problem—the bag of masa flour I bought was a brand sold in with the flour and other pantry staples, not the brand sold in the authentic Hispanic food aisle. I highly doubt I can blame the flour for my sad attempts, but hey, it’s possible it’s one of the factors. A gal’s gotta hope.) By the time I get to the bottom of the bag, I will either have mastered tortillas, or have discovered a lovely packaged brand that come already perfectly flat, round, soft, beautiful and delicious. Then my only concern will be to make sure I don’t ruin them by burning them…
Juliana LeRoy wears many hats, including wife, mother, paraeducator and writer. She can be spotted around Windsor gathering material, or reached at
ml****@so***.net
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