The humble tortilla is Mexico’s national bread. It is
available from wheat flour which yields a smooth, pliable tortilla, or from
corn flour which crafts a thicker but less pliable counterpart. Edge to edge
the basic tortilla is approximately six inches across. Larger models, used for
quesadillas and smaller models, doubled up and used for small tacos exist. These
sub-groups fall into the category of specialty versions. Current pricing on a
kilo of fresh tortillas is 9 pesos ($0.75 USD)
In Yelapa, there is actually a fully mechanized
tortilleria. A large stainless steel,
twelve foot long machine consumes raw ingredients via a hopper at one end and
emits perfectly shaped warm corn tortillas out the opposing end. Work begins
early enough so that one kilo packages (roughly twenty tortillas) can be packed
into thermal coolers and delivered first to the handful of markets sprinkled
throughout the village and then to a dozen restaurants plus the numerous
taquerias. This delivery system consists of one young man on a small but nimble
blue scooter. His movements throughout the village are announced by blasts from
his metallic horn. With commercial
deliveries completed by mid-morning, he straps a blue cooler onto his scooter
and cruises the streets marketing his remaining product to passersby or repeat household
clients. As before, his progress is punctuated with the scooter’s brassy horn followed
by his announcement “llegaron tortillas.” (Tortillas have arrived) By late
morning, all product has been delivered and he retires for the day. This cycle
repeats itself seven days per week, three hundred sixty-five days per year.
The combination of high humidity plus the absence of
preservatives dramatically limits the shelf life of these life-sustaining
disks. A paper wrapped kilo (just over two pounds) of product can be stored no
more than two days. One way of extending this shelf life is to cut the tortilla
into strips or triangles and fry them. This now alters the original product
into chips/strips (totopos/nachos). These are placed alongside a bowl of salsa and
disappear in countless Mexican kitchens before dinner.
I recently attended a birthday party for the twelve
year old daughter of a good friend. The parents, both of whom are accomplished
chefs, decided to produce a large pot of spaghetti topped with a rich meat and
chili sauce. Seated immediately adjacent to me was a gregarious five-year old
muchacho. Now, understand that pasta is not something you’re likely to see
coming out of a Mexican kitchen. There is little, if any use of pasta in
general. My diminutive table mate appeared quite perplexed. His repeated
attempts to stab, spear or otherwise impale the spaghetti onto a fork proved
futile. He paused pensively for a moment and then did what every kid in Mexico
would do. He reached into a napkin which folded neatly over a nest of
tortillas. His little hand re-emerged with a single item in tow. Transported to
the plate in front of him, the tortilla lay empty for a second before a fork,
surgically employed scooted spaghetti up and over it. Filled to some
predetermined level, my neighbor carefully rolls the tortilla, pinches it and
transports his tortilla full of spaghetti and meat sauce directly into his tiny
mouth. Dilemma dissolved.
Commercial
Break
In observation of today’s topic, I will offer a free
fresh half kilo of tortillas to any new kayak booking throughout the balance of
March. Some rules do apply but they’re pretty minimal. See you on the Playita.
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