Tortillas

     When I was a little girl, my mom would give me pieces of dough (flour tortillas) and I would desperately try to spread the bit of dough into a semi-circle.  Regardless of shape, my mom would place them on the comal (couldn't think of the English equivalent...skillet?) and cook my afternoon's work.  Daddy would come home and ooh and ah over my tortillas.  He would add, "When you grow up you can make tortillas for Daddy."  Well, say no more, I was going to turn out those babies just like my mama.

     Then puberty set in.  Boys mainly.  Somehow the intricacies of  tortilla making were no longer up there with serving my father with said same prize tortillas.  But someone had to put tortillas on the table and that job belonged to me.

     It was a way of life.  I was reminded again of my responsibility during Hurricane Beulah.  My grandparents lived in Madero, just south of Mission.  During Hurricane Beulah, the levy(s) were flooded so my grandparents came to stay with us in Mission.  On the first day of their two week stay, Grandma Tomasita herded me into the kitchen at 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

      "It's time to start supper."  she told me.
      "But guellita, we don't eat until daddy gets home and that's not until 6."  I answered.
     One look and that was it.  For two weeks, I had to have the stack of tortillas ready by the time my dad arrived at 6 o'clock.  Dad was more flexible so he wasn't concerned if supper wasn't ready right at 6 but I had them ready nonetheless.  This responsibility lasted until I graduated from high school but I had made up my mind, I was NOT going to be stuck making flour tortillas for anyone, anytime....until I met my husband.

     I had to bring it!!  This Valley girl could make flour tortillas from scratch (besides every savory, mexican dish you can name...except mole)  Well, the tortilla making honeymoon lasted about five months but I got my man and the rest is history.

Until now...

     I was making chicken soup and told Ralph flour tortillas would be nice, but we were out of flour tortillas.
Ralph looked at me and I looked at him and then it happened.  I opened my mouth.

     "You know, hon, I used to know how to make flour tortillas from scratch.  Remember?"  I reminded him.
     "Do you think you still remember?"  he asked.
     "Lets find out."  I told him.  "I have all the ingredients."

    So I reprised my prized tortillas.

     Nice, huh?  The tortillas tasted better, fresher.  And now I'm back, making tortillas this time because I can.  This time its art.  I don't mean on the tortilla (chortle).  It's the art of making the tortilla.  I don't have a recipe...its just a feel...something I learned all those years of making them when I was a little girl.

     Now, making tortillas is full of memories...my mom, my dad, Sunday family dinners and though those reading this will never know...they taste great!

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Happy New Year everyone!  It been a long time since I blogged.  Today was the first time I felt like writing. again.