My Grandmother’s Tortillas Were the Best. Try Them Yourself.

In the Live Oak days, back in the early 1980s, I would watch as she warmed the stove and gathered her tools: the plastic bowl meant just for making tortillas, her rolling pin and the plate to rest the rolled dough. These flour tortillas were our daily bread, whipped up in a matter of moments. The kneading and shaping, rolling and shifting were moves she had been doing since she was tall enough to reach a countertop, about as big as I was when I would attach myself to her side and wait for my hot tortilla.