Monday, October 03, 2011


My mother and I took a class this weekend and learned how to make tortillas from scratch.  While the class wasn't as thorough as I wish it could have been, we learned a bit and had fun eating the fruits of our labor.

You can find dozens of recipes for tortillas on the Internet, so I won't post the one we got here.  Yes, we used shortening.  Yes, I think I'd prefer real (unhydrogenated) lard.  No, you can't substitute butter.  And yes, even though the tortillas contained wheat flour, I did eat them.

At the end of the day, we both smelled like flour.  Lemme just say, that's not a pleasant smell six hours later.  I think I'm still digging flour out from under my short nails.

I went home and had to practice again using my tools, my surroundings, my much-more-sanitized-and-less-scary surfaces than what we had to use in our class (then: questionable closet rod as a rolling pin; at home: grandma's oldy-but-goody real rolling pin).  I also don't have a huge cast iron griddle, but I do have a cast iron frying pan.  Slower to do one at a time, but then I don't burn them because I'm paying attention to each one.  Except when I'm trying to clean up as I go.  Okay, one burned.  I just "heavily toasted" it.

After experimenting at home, The Man deemed my skills excellent and demanded that all of our tortillas are homemade from now on.  While I agree with him about the deliciousness, I'm not sure I agree with him on the work part.  That "Little Red Hen" has some helping to do!

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