Children of the corn: Maizajo helps to save real tortillas
“I don’t like corn tortillas.”
My mom said this to me the other week while we spoke on the phone. They’re unexpected words, coming as they did from the mouth of a Mexican-American woman born and raised in California, but if you’ve ever tasted the industrial corn tortillas available in the state’s suburban supermarkets, you’d probably form the same opinion. I guess this is why we usually ate flour tortillas at home. When we did buy corn tortillas, it was only to fry them into taco shells.
Moving to Monterrey, Mexico 15 years ago did little to alter my perception of corn tortillas. Then again, it’s not surprising given that flour tortillas—not corn—form the basis of the northern Mexican city’s cuisine. Moreover, most of the corn tortillas you’ll find in Monterrey are made of processed corn flour and are just as flavorless as the corn tortillas I grew up with.
I don’t think I tasted a truly good corn tortilla until I took a 500 km road trip from Monterrey to the Huasteca Potosina, a beautifully lush but impoverished region of the country, where corn firmly remains the foundation of local cuisine. In the Huasteca, the tortillas tasted of earth, of life. Sure, you could fill them with a scoop of beans or a few slices of avocado, but really, they were perfectly delicious eaten plain or with a sprinkle of salt.
My lowly opinion of the corn tortilla was changed forever.
When I moved to Mexico City, I assumed that good corn tortillas would be available throughout the capital. Nope. Most of the corn tortillas you’ll find here—even at most neighborhood tortillerías—are just as flavorless as the rest. If you want good tortillas, you have to do some research.
Which is how I learned about Maizajo.
The interior of Maizajo, with millstones displayed at left.
In an unassuming warehouse in Mexico City’s Azcapotzalco district, you’ll find Maizajo. It’s yet another tortillería in a city that’s home to thousands—but this place is different. Santiago Muñoz founded the organization together with a small group of friends and colleagues who were alarmed by the forces transforming Mexico’s traditional corn-based culture—and destroying the tortilla.
For 5,000 years, the inhabitants of Mesoamerica have used the process of nixtamalización to transform dried native corn into into pliable corn masa, which is used to make tortillas and other dietary staples. Dried kernels are cooked and soaked in an alkaline solution, which improves their flavour and aroma, boosts their nutritional value and makes them easier to grind into masa. It’s an arduous process that has traditionally required vast inputs of labour—almost always by women—to produce the essential component of any Mexican meal. And, because masa needs to be used the day it is made, women had to spend hours every morning nixtamalizing and grinding corn to make tortillas.
Co-founder Santiago Muñoz demonstrates how to remove corn kernels from a corncob using an olotera.
Although “good” corn tortillas made of nixtamalized corn were commonly sold in Mexico City tortillerías into the 1990s, today, they are hard to come by thanks to the rise of the corn flour tortilla in Mexico. First developed 70 years ago to ease the burden of tortilla-making, corn flour (masa harina) is masa that has been processed and dried to make it shelf stable. Just add water and voilà!—you’ve got instant masa ready to press into tortillas.
Unfortunately, tortillas made of corn flour have an insipid flavour and break apart quite easily. Even worse, as Santiago explained, a single batch of corn flour produced in Mexico can contain dozens of varieties of corn, including low-grade, genetically modified corn, which US agribusinesses have been dumping in Mexico for more than two decades under the terms of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). This is particularly worrisome, given that Mexico prohibits the cultivation of GMO corn on Mexican soil.
To nixtamalize corn, the dried kernels are cooked and left to soak in an alkaline solution of calcium hydroxide.
Despite these drawbacks, 90-95% of the tortillerías in Mexico City now use corn flour. The corn flour can be combined with nixtamalized masa or used by itself. Many tortillería owners acquire their production equipment at low or no cost from companies like Monterrey-based Gruma—the world’s largest producer of corn flour and tortillas—which then require their clients to purchase corn flour from them alone. This creates a self-perpetuating cycle that precludes these small businesses from making traditional tortillas with nixtamalized corn.
Furthermore, guaranteed high demand for corn flour places pressure on small-scale farmers to abandon the low-yield varieties of multi-hued Mexican native and creole corn for the dependable hybrids preferred by corn flour manufacturers. The rise of corn flour hasn’t only destroyed the tortilla; it is also wreaking havoc on corn biodiversity in Mexico.
Álvaro prepares to grind nixtamalized corn.
This is precisely why Maizajo was founded: to help reverse the dominance of corn flour while helping Mexicans understand that the foundation of their country’s traditional foodways is under threat. Despite its importance to national identity, city-dwelling Mexicans know next to nothing about corn. While many will recognize a field of corn when passing one on the highway, most don’t know that corn is planted in November so that it can be harvested in the spring. As for nixtamalization, it remains a process shrouded in mystery.
Moreover, many urban Mexicans don’t realize that today, their country’s heritage cuisine has essentially become a luxury good. Those of us who live in Mexico City have to visit the countryside to access many of these foods. (So common is this activity, there’s even a verb for it—pueblear—which literally means “to small town.”) Our other option for quality Mexican cuisine is to eat at one of the city’s renown restaurants that charge up to $4,000 (CAD 257 / USD 207) for a traditional tasting menu with wine pairings—a cost equal to 40 times the daily minimum wage in Mexico.
Maizajo provides tortillas to around 70 such high-end restaurants in Mexico City. They also sell tortillas to the public; the retail price for one dozen quality tortillas is $25 (CAD 1.70 / USD 1.30). Given that the price for a kilo of tortillas—about four dozen tortillas—at a neighbourhood tortillería is just $14 (CAD 0.97 / USD 0.73), Maizajo’s tortillas might seem expensive. But trust me, there is value in this price. The amount of work required to produce each tortilla is considerable and, if anything, prices are lower than the real cost of materials and labor.
Taste one of their amazing tortillas, and you’ll be convinced.
Fresh masa from the mill.
A tortilla press is used to form tortillas.
The best way to cook a good tortilla? Flip it three times on the comal.
Maizajo
Soledad 556
Col. El Jaguey
Azcapotzalco
02519 Mexico City
contacto@maizajo.com
+52 1 55 7959 8540