Forty years in a tortilla shop. One ledger.
I was born on a ranch in Sonora. At six years old my mother put a bowl of flour in front of me and told me to make tortillas for the vaqueros. I asked her how much water. She said, "Enough." The first hundred went to the dogs.
In 1979 my husband Chuy and I opened Tortillería Durazo in South Tucson. For forty years I was up at four in the morning. Eleven hundred tortillas before the sun came up. And in the back I kept a ledger: orders, flour prices, who still owed us twelve dollars, and little by little, every measure my mother refused to give me.
"You never know which question you forgot to ask until the person who knew the answer is gone."
When my granddaughter could not make my tortillas alone and called to ask how much water, I heard myself say "Enough." That frightened me. So I finished the ledger. Every recipe, every measure, and under every step, the reason why.





