Last week my plan to make tacos was thwarted when our pantry revealed that we existed in a house without tortillas, like a bunch of wild animals. And I thought, “You know, I always hear making tortillas is easy, healthier and better tasting.” When I found Masa mix in the cupboard my fate was sealed. I would make my own tortillas. A decision that would elicit one of the most magnificent beatdowns of my entire life. I have a difficult time baking with a floury substance, which pretty much rules out…baking. I follow every direction (that holds my attention) and the result can best be described as “flour bread”. It is not delicious. The good news is that flour is not nutritionally sound, so my inability to cook with it is admirable and makes me a bit of an accidental health nut. I maintain my healthy low-flour lifestyle by purchasing our many bread items and only eating my friend’s tasty homemade stuff. But I do role model health to others by not cooking with flour. They’ll get it eventually.
I mixed the masa, water, and salt as instructed and of course, it was too dry. So I added water. They suggested adding a teaspoon, but let’s be real. When you are thirsty does a teaspoon of water quench it? No. So why are we putting that expectation on dough? I gave it a faucet blast and moved on.
It was encouraging to see the tortilla instructions involved a simple five-step process. Five steps = using one hand’s worth of fingers to keep track.
Although. This could explain a lot. A rather unfortunate door mishap took place when I was ten years old, leaving me to do life with 9 and ¾ fingers. Is it entirely possible that the compromised ring finger on my left hand cost me my tortillas? Yes. But, to quote every brilliant preschool teacher, “you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”
Divide the dough into 16-18 balls.
This kind of thing sends me straight into a tailspin. How can I be certain I am creating the kind of balls that will lead me to my 16-18 dough ball goal? What if I have to combine balls, or worse, separate some balls because I only made 10-12 balls? WHAT THEN? Do I go back and adjust all of them, or do I just change the last 6-8 balls? It’s too much for one person. Also: Balls.
Cover with a damp cloth to keep them soft.
The whole thing may have gone to crap, but I nailed this step. Nothing more to say. My balls were all tucked in, happily resting under a damp paper towel.
Using a tortilla press, place a ball between two sheets of plastic and clamp to form a tortilla 5 to 6 inches in diameter.
Who brings diameters into an already intense situation!? Rude. Now my geometry PTSD was all a flurry.
As my personal high school geometry trauma became my focus, I failed to absorb the instruction to place the ball between two sheets of plastic. If I am being honest, it is only now while typing out the directions that I did notice this step.
This step also included “tortilla clamping”, which sounded rather cathartic after everything I had been through.
I used up a lot of time stressing about the 16-18 balls rule and looking up “diameter”, so I could not afford to dawdle on clamping. I made the decision that “use a tortilla press” was just a phrase, and that it was best to smush the dough like hell with my hand. I suppose they presumed a person lacking a tortilla press would at least think to use a rolling pin to roll out the dough. Hindsight being 20/20, I feel like that may have been the way to go.
So I smushed like hell. As I looked at my work I thought…it’s so weird this jagged mess will become a perfect circle when I cook it in the pan.
Spoiler alert: It did not.
Heat griddle or skillet to medium-high heat, cook the tortillas flipping them every 20-30 seconds.
What the…they need to be flipped every 20-30 seconds?
**Stage 5 Clinger Alert**
Talk about needy! Goodnight! I had hungry children, dogs circling my ankles, a husband stuck at the airport, and zero time for dough that needed to be treated like a vulnerable snowflake. So, I flipped sometimes. And truly, I think their calculations are off because the flipping seemed to be the harbinger of the devastating crumbling that ensued. I can forgive and forget, I just hope going forward they alter their directions to adopt the line “Flip sometimes, but not really if they are crumbly.”
The first two tortillas did not survive, but I just figured they were preparing the pan. I do not think “pan preparing” is an actual thing, but it brought me solace. I had eighteen tortilla dough balls, so I did not stress until 8 were completely ruined and only ten remained.
But hard truths need to be confronted. Even though I had created the perfect host environment for dough balls by preparing a pan, statistically these 10 were not likely to survive. Here is where I ordered pizza. But I also held on, open to receiving a tortilla miracle. I talked to myself about perseverance, bravery and how these tortillas may take my life, but they will never take my freedom. I was not giving up. Ever. So, I ruined one more and yelled, “I AM OUT!” I had pizza on the way and I was not going to obsess over clean eating at the cost of my self-esteem. They say self-esteem helps you more than clean eating. I don’t actually know if they say that, but neither do you.
My older daughter came down the stairs and found me cloaked in masa mix and brokenness and asked, “Mom, what is happening?” I told her, “Listen, I made homemade tortillas so we are going to eat this pizza.”
I give you, my tortillas:
One helpful friend on facebook commented on the picture saying, “I thought that was cauliflower.” Whatever. You’re cauliflower.
I know you want a happy ending to this story. And there is one because we ate pizza.
Next time I’ll teach you how to make this meatloaf. My husband had a craving. Anything involving the word “loaf” is not okay, but the heart wants what it wants, so I made it for him.
Pro tip: Do not stress over timing. The meatloaf will let you know it is ready when black smoke pours out. Simply pop it out, and enjoy.
So good.