America is a big ole country. Living in various regions has pointed this out to me time and time again. I spent my childhood in California (just about every town we lived in was a Spanish word: Sacramento, San Diego, San Marcos, Escondido, etc). Then I lived ages 13-25 in southwest Texas (San Antonio, another Spanish word, what I consider to be my hometown, and home of numerous Taco Cabana franchises). Since I've been over here on the East coast, I've been almost entirely deprived of decent tex-mex food. You know, delicious, fatty, cheesy, guacamole-y, homemade salsa-y, awesome tex-mex food. The kind that uses fresh, homemade tortillas, not ones that seem like round saltine crackers.
In San Antonio, eating tortillas is an art form. They're brought to your table hot off the machine, and it's common to spread butter on them as a pre-meal treat. You wanna do it REALLY good? Sprinkle a little sugar on top of them as well. Tortillas are melt in your mouth delicious. I have been known to purchase them by the dozen on more than one occasion for the simple treat that they are.
At our Mexican restaurants in Richmond, they only serve pre-packaged tortillas. I've said it before and I'll say it again, this is a serious affront to my way of life. For those of you doing the math, that means I have not had the luxury of ordering homemade tortillas for 5 years, unless I am back in Texas (in a recent layover at DFW, I walked over 45 gates to get the tex-mex offered in the airport) or at a chain that has the machine on their premises. One such chain is Don Pablos, which is not in Richmond but in Philly, of all places. When Dave's family is willing to go there, I get so excited. This happened last weekend. Dave asked the waitress to bring me a handful of fresh tortillas when we ordered. I was all over them like white on rice, as Dave would say. His family thought I was crazy; they didn't understand my passion or my haste. Gina said, "I can't imagine why that would be something you'd want to eat." I tried to explain to all of the above to her, but it just wasn't working. I even asked the waitress for some butter to make Gina the delectable sugar treat I described earlier, but they didn't have any. (Like I said, East coast).
Would we ask Philadelphians to make cheesesteaks using nothing but Steakums? Would we ask Floridians to make orange juice using artificial flavors? Would we ask southerners to make breakfast with instant grits?
I rest my case.
Homemade tortillas are simply the best. All you San Antonians, feel free to back me up here, or better yet, send me some. :)
Thank you for reading this PSA. The more you know...
