Tort(illa) Reform - Recap

Alton’s in “that Mexican restaurant.” You know it, the one in the strip mall down the street, with sombreros on the walls, the soccer channel on TV and a cactus on the menu. There’s not much authentic Mexican cuisine here, but an important exception is also a key element of Meso-Americana: the tortilla. A staple for half the planet, the tortilla may be one of the “edible lynchpins of human history.” But most folks wouldn’t take on the tortilla, which is a real shame, for it is a truly “a-maizing,” perhaps more American than apple pie, healthful, easy to make and versatile. All of which certainly qualify it as… Good Eats!

Actually, Alton continues, masa is the lynchpin of history; the tortilla is made from this corn flour. In the sixteenth century Hernán Cortés arrived in Mexico and discovered there a magnificent city, Tenochtitlan, and the people who had built it. Consumed by the search for gold, Cortés overlooked the gold that had really made the city possible – maize. Not the sweet corn most Americans know, but a very starchy species with a thick pericarp (outer hull).

Deb Duchon, nutritional anthropologist, explains: the natives discovered much earlier that if they soaked their maize in water with wood ashes mixed in, the hulls slid off. This happens because the alkali chemicals in the mixture attack and soften the hulls. That unlocked a host of vital nutrients normally “caged” within the kernel. The result was nixtamel and it contained amino acids like lysine and tryptophan, niacin (vitamin B3) and other nutrients. It was this advance that gave the natives the ability to build their empire. The Spaniards took corn back to Europe with them, but did not take nixtamelization, the process that made it nutritious. Many who adopted it as a staple developed the deadly deficiency disease pellagra, whose hallmarks are diarrhea, dementia and death. That, perhaps, was Montezuma’s real Revenge...

Alton next creates nixtamel from scratch. It starts with a pound of dry field or flint corn. He rinses that to “knock the dust off” and then puts it in a large pot with a lot of water and some “cal.” Ancient cooks used wood ashes; modern Mexican cooks use “cal” (calcium hydroxide) or slaked lime (easily obtained on the Internet). He boils that for thirty minutes in a stainless steel vessel and stirs with a stainless steel spoon: cal can discolor metal and bleach wood. When the boil is complete Alton stashes his pot in an out of the way location overnight. He cautions that cold would halt the chemical reaction, so the refrigerator is a poor choice.

The next day the pericarps have loosened. They’re not falling off, so a little more work is required; five minutes of rubbing under lukewarm water takes the rest of the hulls off Alton’s corn. To finish, he soaks his corn in cold water for two minutes, changes the water, and soaks again, to take the lime taste out.

Now Alton has hull-less corn kernels. He could use the traditional grinding approach. That’s a metate, or large slab of volcanic stone with a smaller grinding instrument of the same stuff. Fortunately someone invented the food processor, so Alton has a better alternative.

He starts by processing the corn with short (a few seconds) pulses ten to fifteen times. Then he adds a bit of water and processes with pulses eight to ten more times. A final bit of water and some salt (don’t skip this or your tortillas will taste flat) and more food processor pulses until the dough comes together. Alton knows the consistency is right when he mashes the dough in his hand and it sticks together. He wraps the dough in plastic and sets it aside for a half hour to fully absorb the water.

Not everyone has the time or inclination to make masa this way, so for them, Alton suggests dehydrated masa flour, available in many stores. Just mix it with water. Or a better alternative: because tortillas ship poorly, cities with a Mexican community usually have a tortilla factory somewhere local. Such a factory is often willing to sell nixtamel or masa flour to the home enthusiast. Alton visits such a factory to see how they turn masa into tortillas; it’s a long machine that spans many rooms; Alton dubs it the Tortillamaster 6000. Sadly, his house lacks the room for such a machine, so he needs to look elsewhere.

Elsewhere is a dungeon staffed by the Dungeon Master, a creepy character who shows Alton a variety of hardware for mistreating masa. Early examples were made of wood and recent entries are made of metal and use electricity to bake the tortillas after pressing them. That’s a little too specialized for Alton; he next samples aluminum (too light) and iron (just right) presses.

Back at his kitchen, Alton discovers (via slide rule) that an ounce and a half is just about the right weight for a tortilla. So he forms his masa into balls that weigh an ounce and a half each, storing them on a half sheet under a moist towel until he has made them all. To keep them from sticking, he uses a zip lock bag cut in half to line the press. The dough ball goes just a bit off center, near the hinge of the press. Once pressed, each tortilla goes onto a griddle to cook for a minute per side. In Mexico a special griddle is used for this but all Alton wants is a griddle that can reach 450º F. Alton stores the baked tortillas on another sheet pan, over a heating pad set to high and a towel; this keeps them nice and warm. If deep cracks form in the tortillas, the dough is too dry; the answer is to knead in some water and let the dough sit to absorb the extra water.

These cooked tortillas are a suitable delivery device for a variety of foods. Alton’s choice is fried anchovies and mayo; Deb Duchon favors fried grasshoppers and chili powder.

Tortillas go stale quickly, but Alton has a remedy. Spray them with a little water (not too much), rub them lightly and slide them in a 300º F oven until they’re warm.

Homemade tortillas like this run about 15 cents a pound. Store bought tortillas run about a dollar a pound. So why to “restaurant style tortilla chips” run almost $4 a pound? Alton concludes there’s no good reason; it’s all marketing, and sets out to make his own chips. It’s easy to do: first cut the tortillas in quarters. Then add a little flavoring if you like – Alton mixes kosher salt and lime juice, then dredges each chip and lets it dry. Finally, cook them for twenty to thirty seconds (they’ll rise to the top of the pan) in oil between 365º F and 375º F. These chips are tough enough to withstand chunky salsas and weighty guacamoles better than those expensive store bought chips, too!

Deb Duchon reappears to bring Alton one of her grasshopper tortillas. Alton is clearly overjoyed. He hesitantly bites down, picking out whole critters, as he reminds us that the tortilla is a link to American heritage, delicious, functional, and fun... certainly Good Eats!

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