This post is also available in: Spanish
Steve Gisel is MCC Nicaragua’s agricultural coordinator. This article is part of our ongoing series on food security and climate change.
Corn and beans are staple foods here in Nicaragua. I don’t believe that most North Americans truly understand the concept of a “staple food.” I know that I didn’t. Poor Nicaraguans eat corn and beans as their breakfast, their lunch, and their dinner. They aren’t included as an element in those meals, they are those meals. Always.
A hot tortilla with a small piece of homemade cheese for breakfast. A bowl of beans with an egg on top and a tortilla (or two) on the side for lunch. Rice and beans, the famous gallo pinto, and a thick drink made primarily out of ground corn with some sugar and cocoa mixed in for dinner. Variety indicates wealth, although even the middle class tends to stick to the basic formula with additional elements of meat, chicken, dairy, and vegetables added in.
Nubia Urbina Durán. Steve Gisel.
I’m particularly aware of these staple foods because I work with farmers in small rural communities who grow corn and beans. Most of them are hoping to grow the 1,500 pounds of corn and the 1,000 pounds of beans that their families consume in the course of a year, plus a little bit more for seed. Many of these farmers I accompany are experimenting with different growing techniques in an effort to adapt to climate change.
Since I am constantly eating at small restaurants and in peoples’ homes, I quickly noticed that Nicaraguans are constantly commenting about the quality of tortillas. “The tortillas the Señora makes are fantastic.” “Those tortillas really leave a lot to be desired.” “I’ll take you by this comedor where they have the best tortillas… so delicious!” I was amazed and fascinated by this tortilla critique, because I could not tell any difference at all between the tortillas which received the highest of all praise and those that would be left half-eaten on plates as my companions exchanged knowing glances and shook their heads in disgust.
As a single man who is not a part of a family, my access to kitchens is relatively limited. Generally when I enter a kitchen: all conversation and activity stops, a short uncomfortable silence ensues, I am then offered any and all drink and food options that are currently available, a chair is found for me to sit on (even if no one else is sitting down), and within a short amount of time someone comes to invite me back into another room (where the men are). However, by accident one day, I discovered a secret code that made all of that change. The magic words: “I don’t know how to make tortillas, but I really want to learn.”
“What?” was the incredulous response of the reserved wife of my co-worker, who had barely spoken since I had arrived at their house an hour or so before. “You don’t know how to make tortillas? I will teach you. When do you want to learn? I’ll make sure that you can make great tortillas!” All of a sudden, I was engaged in conversation with a dynamic, talkative person who was excited to share her knowledge with me and eager to have me come in to her kitchen. Predictably, I was terrible at making tortillas, but we had a great time and we agreed to practice again. So began “The Quest to Make the Perfect Tortilla.”
In house after house, I repeated the magic words, “I don’t know how to make tortillas, but I really want to learn” and without fail I was granted enthusiastic access into the kitchen and into what had previously been an inaccessible level of camaraderie.
Steve Gisel.
A tortilla is truly just made of a single ingredient: corn. Rural families will turn the corn in their fields into tortillas on their plates without adding a single element to them and without the corn leaving their land. Tortillas, and by extension corn, is not just a food, it is what shapes rural life. Corn is part of activities that happen each day, all year around. It may be planting, weeding, fertilizing, harvesting, storing, processing, or cooking, but someone from the family is thinking about or doing something related to corn all the time. Climate change here in Central America means the weather is less and less predictable – drought, floods, rains that don´t arrive when they always have in the past or come when they never used to. This is a challenge for all farmers everywhere, but especially for extremely poor farmers who have little access to technology, mechanization, or knowledge that can help offset their risk.
Climate change represents a risk to these daily staples, like corn, and the community rituals and local knowledge, such as cooking and eating tortillas, that accompany them.
Zeleida Alvarez makes tortillas. Steve Gisel
Tortillas may only have one ingredient, but they are deceptively complicated to make. First of all, there is the boiling, processing, and grinding of the corn turning it into “masa”. There are a variety of pitfalls to avoid: overcooking, not allowing the corn to cool enough before grinding, not washing the corn thoroughly enough, etc.
However, once an acceptable masa is achieved, the real art begins. Tortillas are shaped differently here than in other countries. The tortilla is much thicker and larger than store-bought tortillas in the United States. The masa is kneaded and shaped into a thick disk with two hands, and then is placed onto a surface and patted briskly with one hand while the second hand molds the outside of the tortilla maintaining a smooth, circular outside edge. When the appropriate size and thickness is reached, the tortilla is flipped onto one hand and then gently placed onto a specialized tortilla-making-pan over a wood-fire. A short time later, the tortilla is flipped and if everything has been done correctly and the stars are aligned, the tortilla begins to swell like a balloon. The tortilla is like a sapo (frog) when this happens, and if a tortilla that a gringo makes swells up, it is a cause for great excitement! “Look, LOOK! It’s happening, Estiven! LOOK! Es sapo! MIRA!”
It has only happened once so far. My neighbor helped me a little too. The quest continues and I hope that it takes me a long time to figure it out. I really like being invited into the kitchen and participating in this special part of the growing and eating cycle in rural Nicaragua.
Although, now that I think about it. I don’t know how to make beans either…