Last night, in a lucky confluence of events, I unloaded my pasta machine from the basket I’d taken to Wyatt’s classroom (biannual pasta-making demonstration) at the same moment as I began contemplating mixing up tortilla doughâ€”and a brilliant idea was born.
Any good Texan knows that the only real tortillas are handmade tortillas, and that putting “handmade” on a baggie and then selling them in the grocery fridge section really does not count. I’ll eat those, but only under duress. If we’re eating tacos or fajitas, odds are good that I’m making tortillas, especially since I found this recipe via Homesick Texan. But as handy as I am with a rolling pin, I can never get the darn things thin enough for my liking. They still taste good, but perfection is elusive.
Enter the pasta machine.
I made the dough (from all white flour today since I was feeling decadent) rested it properly, and accidentally cut it into too many pieces, which turned out to be a happy accident. Got out my cast iron pan (which is badly in need of re-seasoning, and I am so not good at that). Heated it up, and rigged the pasta machine to the counter.
If you’re a pasta machine user, you’ll get it when I say that, as always, 5 was not quite thin enough but 6 was too thin. How can that possibly be true of every kind of dough out there?
The results were delicious. The reason behind the fajitas was the presence of leftover grilled steak from last week and, as a bonus, several ripe avocados.
Dinner was a big hit with all concerned. I’ve trained them well, so there were lots of compliments for the chef, who is known to be very temperamental, and even some gratitude for the sous-chef.
There is still leftover steak. And there is still cheese, and would be guacamole, but I left it on the counter too long and the results weren’t pretty. But there are no leftover tortillas.