Working in the tortillaria is not easy work. It is not women's work at all like the tacorias or fruterias in the mercado. It takes muscles, strength, and courage when facing temperatures that rival hell or else mean-ass abuelitas (yo grandmother!).
Lines in the streets of Mexico mean one of three things: 1.)it is lunchtime near a bank 2.)a tortillaria is backed up 3.)Ricky Martin is taking his clothes off again on the corner(least common).
The stacked up people that wait for tortillas can be anybody. Most of them carry plastic bags, newspaper, or hand embroidered tea towels because when the tortillaria must wrap your tortillas for you they charge 5 pesos extra (that's 50 cents where you and I come from).
From the front of these lines come the shrieking sound of the tortilla press. It squeals above the soft mug of the motor that feeds it.
Today I saw the whole process start to finish...
The corn comes in strong white plastic sacks piled high in the corner. The kernels are removed from their bags, and left t