tortillas

The masa life: How heirloom masa harina and a new (old!) world of beans can transform everyday eating

A tlacoyo filled with beans and cheese and topped with avocado, salsa macha and queso fresco

A tlacoyo filled with beans and cheese and topped with avocado, salsa macha and queso fresco

By Leslie Brenner

[Editor’s note: This is first in a series of Cooks Without Borders stories (with recipes) about how to live the masa life. Find all The Masa Life articles here.]

Heirloom-corn masa + great beans = a new way to eat

In the old days, the before days, tuna salad sandwiches were the default lunch in our household at least twice a week. Maybe thrice. 

Now we’re living the masa life — routinely making masa from masa harina (which takes all of about three minutes), pressing tortillas for tacos or tlayudas, folding tetelas or patting tlacoyos. These endlessly variable masa manifestations often become the vehicles for scratch refried beans, which have become a household staple. With simple enhancements like sliced avocado, a drizzle of always-in-the-fridge salsa macha, fresh herbs or a crumble of cheese, their simple pleasures are insanely satisfying. Add leftover roast chicken, salad greens, easy-to-make pico de gallo or salsa verde, grilled meats or fish or braised anything into the equation, and the delicious possibilities are infinite. We can also easily keep them plant-based, if that’s our desired vibe.

The life-change hasn’t come because I just learned how to make masa from masa harina (flour made from masa, the corn dough used to make all these shapes); I’ve been doing that for most of my life. It came because CWB’s resident Mexican cooking expert, Olivia Lopez, introduced me to two life-changing things: superior masa harina and a new way to think about beans. 

We’ve already written about the bean part of the equation.

[Read: “Bring on the bayos: Showing some love for Mexico’s creamy, dreamy other bean — and its kissin’ cousin mayocoba”]

Now let’s dive into the maíz (corn) side.

Masa harina gets an upgrade

Tortillas made from Masienda masa harina

Tortillas made from Masienda masa harina

Although the handmade tortillas I used to make were much better than the corn tortillas I could buy in a supermarket, the mass-produced masa harina I was able to buy did not have much character, and I knew most of it was likely to involve genetically modified corn, which I was not happy to purchase or consume. 

A fabulous new product on the market turns that equation on its head: masa harina made from heirloom corn from Mexico. Sourced from small farms, the non-GMO, landrace maíz is nixtamalized, milled and turned into masa harina by Masienda, a Los Angeles-based purveyor that supplies forward-looking chefs (including Olivia) from coast to coast. Get yourself a bag (it’s readily available online), stir in water, knead for a moment, and you’ve got shockingly good masa: the building block for all those shapes, and many others. 

 [Read “Next-wave masa: A forward-looking purveyor and passionate chefs bring heirloom corn from Mexico to their tables and yours”]

Red, white and blue non-GMO heirloom corn masa harina from Masienda

Red, white and blue non-GMO heirloom corn masa harina from Masienda

I’m not the only one who considers this new heirloom masa harina to be a game-changer for home cooks. Gonzalo Gout, one of the four authors (including super-chef Enrique Olvera) of the superb 2019 book Tu Casa Mi Casa: Mexican Recipes for the Home Cook, seems equally excited.  

Because many of the recipes in Tu Casa Mi Casa are heavily reliant on masa, and the book was published just before the Masienda masa harina came on the market, I wondered if Gout would have seen its appearance as a game-changer, and what he thought of the product.

In an email, Gout — who along with his co-authors is involved in a number of the world’s most outstanding Mexican restaurants (including Pujol, Ticuchi and Eno (Mexico City), Criollo (Oaxaca), Cosme and ATLA (New York City), Damian (Los Angeles)  — told me: 

 “We definitely cook with Masienda’s masa harina. I use it at home! Although we make all the fresh masa in-house at the restaurants because we are privileged enough to have a molino, we use the masa harina in dessert tuiles, in batters — like the fried fish taco at Damian — or to quickly dry up some overly wet masa. I mentioned it briefly in the book, but I genuinely believe that the problem with masa harina is not necessarily the process but the quality of corn behind it. Masienda solves that problem. For a home cook without access to a molino, making fresh tortillas from a good quality masa harina is far superior to buying industrial tortillas. Few things beat a fresh tortilla, and a good masa harina gets you pretty close to perfect.”

Blue corn tetelas topped with roasted salsa verde, crema and salsa macha

Blue corn tetelas topped with roasted salsa verde, crema and salsa macha

That’s so true, and the possibilities heirloom corn masa harina opens up for making tacos and tamales — and a whole bunch of other masa shapes — at home are cause for celebration: 

  • Homemade tortillas have a life beyond tacos: Dry them out in the oven or on the comal until they’re crisp, and they become tostadas — a base for ceviches or salad-y assemblages.

  • Triangular tetelas are not-yet-cooked tortillas folded around a filling (often beans and cheese) then griddled on both sides. Simple and delicious, you can dress them up with salsas — or not.

  • Tlacoyos are eye-shaped masa patted or pressed a bit thicker than a tortilla and folded up along the middle also to enclose fillings. Flattened out before griddling, these make wonderful canvases for toppings like avocados or grilled sliced meats. If you make them in advance (including the griddling part), you can reheat them by pan-frying them, which makes the bottom wonderfully crispy.  

  • Small, round masa cakes known as sopes are easy to form (no tortilla press necessary) and super versatile. A ridge around their edge holds fillings (beans, meats, cheese, salsas, etc.) in place.

  • My current obsession is the tlayuda, or rather a mini-version, a tlayudita. In its home in Oaxaca, a tlayuda is a pizza-sized corn tortilla griddled till it’s crispy-chewy, then spread with refried black beans while it’s still on the comal. Once off, it’s topped with meats, cheese, sliced tomato or radishes, or whatever you like. 

Avocado Tlayudita with Salsa Macha, inspired by a tlayudita at For All Things Good in Brooklyn, NY

Avocado Tlayudita with Salsa Macha, inspired by a tlayudita at For All Things Good in Brooklyn, NY

The tlayudita: a deliciously chewy-crunchy little canvas

In coming stories, we’ll individually explore each of the above. For today, let’s talk more about the tlayuda/tlayudita. As long as you have a tortilla press, it’s easy to achieve and allows for endless improvisation with the toppings — much like a pizza.

Do a Google image search of “tlayudas in Oaxaca” and you get an instant sense of how they’re eaten and riffed on there: On top of the beans go any combination of cheese (often quesillo, Oaxacan string cheese), sliced tomatoes, crumbled chorizo or other meats, avocados. No doubt you’ll have your own ideas.

To make a legit tlayuda, you’d need a tlayuda press, which is like an oversized tortilla press — it’s a piece of equipment most of us home cooks do not own. (Though you could buy one if you’re deep-pocketed and dedicated to making full-sized tlayudas.) I’m sure it would be heresy to say this in Oaxaca, but I think a mini-version is just as nice — and you can use your regular tortilla press to make them.

Lately I’ve been loving a really simple tlayudita. Rather than black beans, I usually make refried mayocoba, bayo or mantequilla beans, as they cook much more quickly than frijoles negros. Their creaminess makes them ideal for quickly turning into quick vegan refritos. Just sweat a little chopped white onion and garlic in olive oil, add cooked beans and mash with a potato masher or bean masher, adding in some bean-cooking liquid as needed to get the right consistency. (I also keep cans of refried beans in the pantry for when I don’t have an hour or two to make mayacobas. Not as fabulous to be sure, but for quick lunches or weeknight dinners, I occasionally go that route.) 

On top of that I arrange slices of avocado (a squeeze of lime sprinkled over), a drizzle of salsa macha, a few cilantro leaves. Inspired by a tlayudita I enjoyed at a wonderful cafe and masa shop in Brooklyn, For All Things Good, it makes a fabulous vegan lunch. 

RECIPE: Avocado Tlayudita with Salsa Macha

Tlayudita with a garden vibe

Chicken Salad Tlayudita

Chicken Salad Tlayudita

My personal riffing often takes me more salady. I’ve become addicted to a version that’s like a cross between a tlayuda and a chicken tostada — a crispy-chewy tlayuda base spread with refried beans while it’s still on the comal, topped with a handful of tender salad greens, diced avocado, shredded chicken, cilantro, pico de gallo and a crumble of queso fresco. Even thinking about it puts me in a good mood. 

RECIPE: Chicken Salad Tlayudita

Provisioning the masa life

Ready to start exploring the masa life by diving into tlayuditas? Get yourself some heirloom corn masa harina and (if you don’t already have one) a tortilla press. (Olivia has the one Masienda sells; it’s on my wish-list. We’re featuring that press in the Cooks Without Borders Cookshop, where you can also find an inexpensive starter model, the Masienda masa harina, and other cool tools and ingredients.) To cook the tlayuda base, a comal is great, but any griddle or cast-iron pan also works fine.

Then consider ingredients. If you fall in love with the masa life as quickly and irrevocably as we have, you’ll start stocking your pantry and fridge accordingly. Here’s what I try to keep on hand: 

  • Dried beans — any or all of the following: mayocobas, bayos, mantequillas, frijoles negros, pintos (note that frijoles negros and pintos take longer to cook than the first three). I prefer to buy heirloom varieties of any of the above (Ranch Gordo is our favorite source), but even using supermarket beans is pretty great. If you cook up a big pot, you can have beans to quickly turn into refritos for the whole week.

  • A salsa or three: salsa macha, roasted salsa verde, salsa roja. I like to make my own salsa macha and roasted salsa verde, but you can also purchase them.

  • White onions, limes, serrano or jalapeño chiles, ripe tomatoes, cilantro, avocado, garlic, salt. Chop one ripe tomato with onion, serrano, cilantro and salt and you’ve got a fabulous pico de gallo. Avocados can be sliced or turned into guacamole or avocado purée, all great tlayudita toppings.

  • Salad greens for making my salady spin: spring greens, romaine (for shredding) or baby arugula.

  • A cheese or two. Queso fresco, quesillo and cotija are my masa-life faves; I find the best of those at a supermarket specializing in Mexican products. Confession: Mexican-style cheese blends usually lives in my fridge for when I run out of the first three. (Queso fresco doesn’t stay fresh very long.)

Here are some things I like to have on hand as well, but don’t find as essential:

  • Crema (Mexican-style sour cream) or American-style sour cream — these can be super nice to squiggle on for added richness.

  • Cooked chicken — I often pick up a supermarket roast chicken when I feel tlayuditas coming on. One breast is more than enough for two generous Chicken Salad Tlayuditas, and the rest of the chicken can be used for tacos. Or make an easy roast bird.

  • Dried avocado leaves or fresh epazote: One or the other is excellent for flavoring home-cooked dried beans.

  • Tomatillos — in case I want to blitz up a quick, fresh salsa verde in the blender. 

  • Canned refried black or pinto beans — I buy organic ones. For when a tlayudita craving hits and I don’t have time to make dried beans.

  • A jar of store-bought salsa — for emergencies!

 Got it? We can’t wait for you dive in. And we’re happy to answer any questions — about ingredients, techniques, equipment or whatever. Drop us a note in comments below. And look for the next installment of The Masa Life!

RECIPE: Avocado Tlayudita with Salsa Macha

RECIPE: Chicken Salad Tlayudita

READ: “How to make tetelas — those tasty, triangular masa packets that are about to become super trendy.

Taco party! Quick and snazzy ways to dress up freshly made corn tortillas

Now that you know how to make wonderful hand-made corn tortillas (just mix masa harina with water, and you're nearly there!), you'll want to wrap them around everything in sight. 

If you feel like really stretching out and cooking, you might prepare a special taco centerpiece, like lamb barbacoa or carnitas.

But maybe you want to go super-easy. Have a stress-free taco party! Here are some ideas for fillings:

•Pick up a rotisserie chicken at the supermarket 

•Stop by your favorite barbecue joint and buy some sliced brisket or pulled pork 

•Use that leftover steak in the fridge: Toss it in a hot skillet or grill pan, then slice it in medium-rare strips, for bifstek tacos. They're great dressed with chopped onion, cilantro and any kind of salsa.

•Boil up some pinto beans for vegetarian tacos. Just soak beans overnight, drain, cover with water, toss in half a peeled onion (or a whole one), a couple cloves of unpeeled garlic, fresh thyme or oregano (optional), dried or fresh bay leaves (optional). Bring to a boil, lower heat then simmer till they're tender. Add salt to taste when they're done.

•Pick up some shelled and deveined shrimp from the supermarket and toss them on the grill or grill-pan. Or grill fish fillets.

•Have some leftover confit duck legs burning a hole in your fridge? (Ha!) They make great tacos. I haven't tried them with salsa verde, but I'm thinking it would be great. Or you could go sweet and add a dab of chutney and some chopped cilantro.

•When Thanksgiving rolls around, consider leftover turkey tacos

•Leftover braised short ribs make great tacos,, too. So do leftover stews (beef, pork, lamb, veal, chicken), pot roast, chops, leg of lamb

 

Really, your imagination is the limit. In their book Tacos: Recipes and Provocations, Alex Stupak and Jordana Rothman have recipes for smoked salmon tacos (with cucumbers, cream cheese and lime) and pastrami tacos (with pickled mustard seeds and pickled cabbage).

More tips:

•Have a couple of good salsas on hand, like a roasted salsa verde (easy to make), a store-bought salsa roja or homemade pico de gallo (diced onion and tomato, chopped cilantro, minced serrano or jalapeño chile, a little salt, a big squeeze or three of lime). If you're feeling more ambitious, try Stupak's amazing salsa borracha

 

•Set out bowls of any or all of the following: lime wedges, guacamole, crumbled queso fresco, sliced avocado, cilantro leaves, sliced radishes, chopped olives, chopped white onion, sliced scallions, sliced or diced cucumber

Oh, one more thing: Do yourself a favor and hand your hands on one of these inexpensive ($8 to $12) insulated fabric taco warmers. Stupak and Rothman tested every type out there, and concluded these work the best. I have to agree: Mine kept our tortillas warm for at least an hour. Maybe they would have stayed warm longer; I don't know – we ate them all too fast. They're easy to find online; I lucked out when my generous friends Keven and Georges gave me one as a gift last weekend.

 

OK, then – let's invite some friends and get that tortilla press going! 

 

How I learned to stop worrying about nixtamal and make fresh tortillas from masa harina

You can wrap just about anything in a freshly made corn tortilla, hot off the comal or griddle, and it'll be wonderful.

Well, that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much. 

In another lifetime, a hundred years ago when I was in my twenties and living in L.A., I made fresh tortillas all the time. I had a cheap aluminum tortilla press and a cheap aluminum comal (tortilla griddle); I'd picked up both in a Mexican grocery. You could buy a bag of masa harina (dried powdered masa) just about anywhere. I was in a serious carnitas phase: I'd fallen in love with Diana Kennedy's version in The Cuisines of Mexico, and I'd make that with salsa verde cruda and guacamole and a big pot of pinto beans to serve on the side. 

When I moved to New York to go to graduate school a few years later, I brought my comal and tortilla press and even my molcajete – though masa harina was not so easy to find.

The tortilla press I've had forever

A few years after that, some time in the early 90's, I lucked into an opportunity to meet Kennedy, and even spent a long weekend cooking with her and the late, wonderful Peter Kump, founder of Peter Kump's Cooking School in New York. My friend Danièle Mazet-Delpeuch (I wrote about her in my post about pissaladière) had invited Kennedy and Kump to her 500 year-old stone farmhouse in Dordogne to spend some days cooking and soaking up the delicious and gorgeous region. Danièle knew I was a huge Kennedy fan, and was wonderfully generous to invite me along.

At some point during a weekend spent making pommes sarladaise in a big pot suspended from the hearth in the center of Danièle's living room, and confit de carnard and chou farci and I can't remember what all else, Diana and I got into a discussion about corn tortillas. I'll never forget her expression when I told her I was in the habit of using masa harina to make mine: I might as well have told her I was a regular at Taco Bell. She was positively scandalized.  She insisted that masa made from nixtamal – corn kernels cooked in a solution of lime (calcium oxide) and water – was the only legitimate masa. I knew all about it from her book, but when I'd gotten to the part of the two-page process that said, "Meantime, crush the lime if it is in a lump, taking care that the dust does not get into your eyes," I stopped reading. 

With Diana, I tried to defend my position, arguing that tortillas freshly made from masa harina are way better than anything you can buy at the store. "Better to buy masa at a tortilleria in your neighborhood," she countered. But there were no tortillerias anywhere near my hood – the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It wasn't even easy to find masa harina there.  The conversation seriously deflated me (this was my Mexican cooking hero!) and I think I lost some of my joy for tortilla-making.

That's why last summer when a review copy of Alex Stupak and Jordana Rothman's cookbook Tacos: Recipes and Provocations landed on my desk at work, I was delighted when the book fell open to the following: "In Defense of Masa Harina." "A warm tortilla prepared with harina may not hit the same celestial notes as one made with fresh masa," it said, "but it is still an absolute revelation if all you've ever tasted is reheated, store-bought tortillas. There's irrefutable value in that, so I stand by it." 

Well, of course I've tasted many a fabulous tortilla made from fresh masa, but I still think the ones you make from masa harina (all you need to add is water!) are pretty darn good. And once you get the hang of it, making them is easy – easier than making pancakes, in fact, because the dough is just harina and water.

 

Though I'd already made tortillas a hundred times, I followed Stupak's instructions and found they worked perfectly, though I prefer the proportions of water to masa found on harina packages (1 1/8 cup warm water to 1 cup harina). You knead the water into the flour, roll it into a ball, and keep it moist under a damp towel while you work. "You want the texture to be as soft and moist as possible without sticking to your hands," is the way Stupak describes the right texture. 

 Set up a double griddle or two cast-iron pans and heat them so you have one side or pan hotter than the other. Line your tortilla press with plastic (so the dough doesn't stick). Roll some dough into a golf-ball-size ball. Open the press, plop in the ball, push down on the lever. Open the press, flip the tortilla onto your palm, peel off the plastic. (The thinner the plastic, the easier it is to peel off. I cut up thin, crinkly plastic bags like the ones you get at CVS if you forget to bring your own.) Drop the tortilla onto the cooler side of the griddle, cook for 15 seconds, then flip it over onto the hotter side and cook for 30 seconds. Flip it again (still on the hotter side) and leave it for 10 seconds, then flip a final time and cook 10 more seconds. At that point it may puff up a bit. Transfer it to an tortilla basket – or an insulated tortilla container (Stupak has a good section about which type is best – a "thick fabric tortilla warmer covered with culturally insensitive dancing chili peppers" was his favorite. He also explains why it doesn't work to reheat corn tortillas that have cooled completely.)

So, what shall we wrap these tender warm beauties around? That's a subject for my next post. Meanwhile, I can tell you what I put on the ones I whipped up tonight: Shredded store-bought roast chicken, diced avocado, white onion, cilantro, some leftover pinto beans, a squeeze of lime and a drizzle of leftover salsa borracha, also from Stupak's book. The salsa borracha – spiked with mezcal – was a revelation. That recipe's coming soon, too.

Meanwhile, in case you want to get some practice – or just have a fabulous vehicle in which to wrap leftovers (barbecue brisket is dreamy!) or do some creative taco improvisation – here's the corn tortilla recipe. Same thing I just gave you, but in a little more detail.