Peanut Butter Tacos for Sandra Cisneros
In March of 2020 Bon Appétit did a spread on tacos that featured blurbs from various famous taco creators around the country. As a SoCal girl I am a huge and I mean huge lover of tacos. It’s sorta a given I suppose. I grew up in Corona and was surrounded by friends who would welcome me into their home and share their amazing home cooked meals with me. Too bad when I was little I was an incredibly picky eater because most certainly if it wasn’t Taco Bell, I probably was afraid of it. And look, Taco Bell was there for me when no one else was, and I bet Taco Bell has been there for you too. So I feel no shame admitting that, but this BA spread was a bit loftier than the old bell.
One of the standout articles however was from famed author Sandra Cisneros, who has written numerous best selling novels but to me, will always be remembered for The House on Mango Street. “Told in a series of vignettes stunning for their eloquence, The House on Mango Street is Sandra Cisneros's greatly admired novel of a young girl growing up in the Latino section of Chicago. Acclaimed by critics, beloved by children, their parents and grandparents, taught everywhere from inner-city grade schools to universities across the country, and translated all over the world, it has entered the canon of coming-of-age classics.
Sandra Cisneros and her brother at their grandpas house
Sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes deeply joyous, The House on Mango Street tells the story of Esperanza Cordero, whose neighborhood is one of harsh realities and harsh beauty. Esperanza doesn't want to belong -- not to her rundown neighborhood, and not to the low expectations the world has for her. Esperanza's story is that of a young girl coming into her power, and inventing for herself what she will become.”
Sandra’s article is about her grandfather and his famous peanut butter tacos. If you are wondering what this delicious taco could possibly be like, it’s actually quite simple. A fresh homemade tortilla straight off the comal with a slather of peanut butter scooped across it, melting perfectly into its smooth folds.
Sandra wrote that, “in the old days, women woke before dawn to make tortillas, but by the time my grandfather inherited this daily task, it was a daytime venture. First he mixed the ingredients in a bowl bigger than his head. My mother’s secret was to add a drizzle of hot milk to her dough to make tortillas “as soft as a baby’s behind,” but Grandpa stuck to the original recipe. Flour, hot water, baking soda, salt, lard.
Grandpa let the dough rise; then he pinched fistfuls, rolled them in his hands, and lined them up in rows like an army. After these troops had rested under a clean kitchen towel, he rolled them out into perfect moons with a wooden rolling pin. Clunk-CLUNK, clunk-CLUNK, clunk-CLUNK. Grandpa pat-patted each tortilla in his calloused hands a few times to stretch them before placing them gently on the comal. I watched them bubble and inflate and marveled at how he could flick them over with his bare fingers without burning himself, the house gradually filling with the warm scent of tortillas and the heat causing the kitchen windows to weep.
These were not my mother’s tortillas but a bigger, thicker, hardier variety, like the giant Martian sunflowers Grandpa grew in his backyard. At the end of his labor, there were huge dusty tortilla towers, enough to feed his three adult offspring and two grandchildren who lived with him, and a little extra for guests. Tortillas to accompany the daily soup. Pigs’ feet soup. Meatball soup. Tripe soup. Chicken soup. Soups with pasta shaped like melon seeds. Meals that could be stretched by adding water. He even made the canned dog food stretch by spreading it onto tortillas like pâté. Well, he was a practical man.
…
The language he spoke fluently was food. “El camino a la boca nunca se equivoca,” he liked to say: One never doubts the route to the mouth. And then he would hand me a flour tortilla, still hot from the griddle, with a dab of butter and a dash of salt. Or maybe he would improvise; a tortilla with canned tuna. Or fried bologna with mustard. Or his most memorable innovation—a peanut butter taco.”
I think about my niece who is Mexican American and how much I want to ensure she is proud of her heritage. I’ve been learning to cook as much amazing Mexican food as I can in preparation of the day I get to teach her how to make her first tamal and her own from scratch tortillas. I feel really fortunate to grow up in a city so diverse, that I would be so lucky to learn that the world is diverse and that food transcends language in all sorts of unimaginable ways. And I am grateful for peeks into other lives, because we only get the one, but when other’s write and share their family stories and secrets, for a moment we get to live another life.
If you want to read the full article you can access it here.
Peanut Butter Tacos
Ingredients
Instructions
- In a large bowl, place the flour, baking powder, salt, and mix. With the help of a fork, pastry blender or your hands, incorporate the shortening or lard until it resembles a coarse meal
- Slowly add the hot water a little at the time until the dough holds together. Do not add all the water at once.
- Turn dough onto a work surface, and knead for a couple of minutes until it is smooth as a "baby's butt"
- Let the dough rise. Give it at least 30 minutes
- Pinch fistfuls of dough and start by rolling them in your hands
- Allow the tortillas to rest again under a clean kitchen towel for at least 15 minutes
- Roll them out into perfect moons with a rolling pin
- Pat-pat each tortilla with calloused hands a few times to stretch them before placing them gently on the comal
- When they bubble and inflate, it's time to turn them over. I would not say to use your bare hands like Sandra's grandpa. It's a dangerous game for soft hands. Just grab a spatula.
- Cook for another minute
- Add peanut butter to a warm flour tortilla fresh from the griddle or reheat a flour tortilla on both sides on a griddle.
- A spoonful of peanut butter will do because it will spread. Fold the tortilla over. The peanut butter melts and is even more delicious than on bread.
- Sandra uses almond butter now and says it's just as good!