I stood next to my mother in the Oaxacan marketplace, watching the tortilla woman work. At age three I was close enough to the ground to scrutinize the cook’s labors: In flowing, seamless motion she ground corn on her stone metate, splashed it with water and mixed it into a moist, white paste. She scooped the dough into a ball then played patty cake, flattening the little globe into a thin flat round. Then the cook slapped the wet tortilla onto a smooth, hot stone.
As Mommy and I waited, the vendor continued grinding, shaping, stoking the fire, flipping tortillas and throwing the cooked flat breads onto a stack. Occasionally she stole a glance at us.
We were an oddity. Very likely the only ghostly-skinned, fair-haired people she’d ever seen.
My gringa childhood in Mexico
In the 1960s, tourism hadn’t reached Oaxaca and southern Mexico. But lack of travel amenities didn’t deter my adventurous, hippie parents. In the spirit of Jack Kerouac—and to the horror of our grandparents—Mom and Dad set out on a year-long road journey through Mexico to the Yucatan with three little tow-headed children in tow.
The five of us traveled in a jam-packed English Singer sedan, pulling a trailer filled with camping equipment. When our rig rolled into a dirt-road Mexican village, the whole town turned out. The people had never seen anything like us—tall, pale and straw-haired. My 10-month old sister might well have been the Gautama incarnate: Everyone wanted to see, hold and touch this beautiful, fat, strawberry blond baby.
“Que bonita…que gorda…que linda…”
So the tortilla woman’s furtive stares were no surprise. She smiled, showing toothless gums, then swiped a tortilla from the cooking stone and handed it to me, nodding vigorously. “Gracias,” my mother prompted me. “Gracias,” I whispered to the tortilla vendor who gave a last nod and returned to her work.
I held the hot tortilla gingerly until it cooled enough to sample. Then I bit into the warm tortilla and chewed the soft grainy bread with its strong corn and faintly floral flavor notes.
I’ve loved tortillas ever since.
But sadly, nothing produced by commercial American tortilla makers comes close to my first Oaxacan tortilla. At least, not until recently.
A taste of Oaxaca—in Bushwick
Today, the tide of terrible American tortillas may be turning—at least in a little corner of Brooklyn. Thanks to Los Hermanos tortilla factory, I’m once more enjoying delicious almost-homemade tortillas.
My eldest son discovered Los Hermanos on his recent move to Bushwick. While the neighborhood is gentrifying rapidly, it still supports many non-chain stores and local businesses including a metal foundry, chicken slaughterhouse, hole-in-the-wall restaurants serving food from Argentinian to Zairean and the brothers’ tortilla factory.
Available at the Los Hermanos factory on Starr Street and in local Bushwick bodegas, the tortillas come in a 30-pack for $1.39. One of our favorite ways to work through the 30-tortilla stack is with Migas.
These Tex-Mex style, tortilla-filled scrambled eggs are legendary for their curative power over hangovers. But here in Copywriters’ Kitchen we generally eat them preemptively for brunch or a quick Gracias a Dios es viernes—Thank G-d it’s Friday—dinner.
Miga basics include tortillas, onions, eggs and cheese. But feel free to go grande with:
- Diced bell peppers
- Chopped tomato
- Chorizo or sausage made from pastured pork
- Avocado
- Crushed garlic
…and garnish with your choice of:
- Salsa
- Crema or sour cream
- Minced green onions
A side of boiled pinto beans or Healthy Homemade Refried Beans and extra stack of warm tortillas rounds out the meal perfectly.
Migas Recipe
4 corn tortillas, cut into strips
1 small onion, chopped fine
2 jalapeño peppers, diced (optional)
2-3 tablespoons sunflower or other mild oil
8 eggs
1/2 cup—or more—grated Monterey Jack cheese
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Fresh chopped cilantro for garnish
- In a large skillet heat a few teaspoons of oil. When hot, plop a tortilla into the pan. Fry until slightly crisp on one side, flip tortilla and fry remaining side. Remove and reserve tortilla. Fry remaining tortillas, adding oil a teaspoon at a time as needed.
- Stack tortillas, cut into 3”-4” strips and set aside.
- Add a few more teaspoons of oil to the pan and toss in onions and jalapeno peppers (optional). Fry, stirring occasionally, until onions are translucent—about 5-6 minutes.
- In the meantime, crack the eggs into a bowl and beat. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
- When onions are cooked, add the reserved tortillas, stir frying to warm the strips through.
- Pour the eggs into the pan and cook, stirring so eggs do not burn. When eggs are almost set, turn off flame.
- Sprinkle with grated cheese, cover pan with a lid and let cheese melt for a minute or two.
- Serve immediately, passing chopped cilantro and other garnishes.
Serves four.
