Tlayuda Oaxaqueña

Most people, on their first visit to Oaxaca, make it through the city’s main square to the jam-packed Benito Juarez market, a somewhat unimaginable conglomeration of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats, seafood, fresh-cut flowers, dresses and shawls, nick-knacks, handmade baskets, mezcal, shoes, mole pastes, ices and ice creams, aguas frescas.  There’s a passageway out of the narrow-aisle market on its south side that takes you by the roasted cricket and agave worm vendors, past the ladies with tall, tightly covered baskets.  “Blandas” they announce in a loud, oddly nasal inflection.  Or “tlayudas” they cry out.  These tortilla vendors, mostly from the water-rich suburb of San Felipe del Agua, boil their heirloom corn to grind into smooth masa, hand-press the corn dough into tortillas and bake them on clay griddles over wood fires.  They are spectacular, worth the five or six times the price you’d pay at a commercial tortilleria.  

But you have to know what you’re getting.  The blandas are 8- or 9-inches across, soft tortillas that you’d be thrilled to serve along with any good meal. Tlayudas are bigger (usually about 14 inches) and have a different function.  Once cooked on the clay comal until they lose their suppleness, they are dried a little longer beside the fire.  These are tortillas that won’t spoil, tortillas you could take on a pilgrimage, tortillas that you can crisp up and top like a pizza or fold over a smear of beans, some quesillo cheese and grilled meat to eat like a huge turnover with salsa.

Most visitors won’t stop and buy these tortillas, though they may taste blanditas when they sidle into one of the booths in Smoke Alley, the corridor lined with charcoal grills and preserved meats, or try an open-face tlayuda sitting at the Fonda Abuelita, a market stall founded toward the end of the 1800s. What’s remarkable about either one is the flavor and texture of the local corn and the clay-griddle baking.  

I don’t recommend trying to make your own tlayudas.  The Oaxacan corn isn’t readily available and the technique takes more than a few times to master. But if you live near a community that includes a sizable Oaxacan population or has well-stocked Mexican groceries, you’ll likely find fully dried tlayudas–meaning that they will need to be served open-face like a pizza.  When you find them, here’s a classic way they’re prepared. 

A note about ingredients and techniques: Keep in mind that tlayuda topping choices (and their quantities) are flexible. I call for chorizo here, but grilled Oaxacan tasajo (thin-cut half-dried beef) or cecina enchilada (thin-cut chile-marinated pork) are also typical.  Though U.S-made Oaxacan quesillo (often sold as Queso Oaxaca) is available, it’s typically less tender and less flavorful than the original. That cheese softens, but doesn’t melt, so it’s common to scatter it on with the cold toppings.  If you choose a melting cheese instead, put it on when heating the tlayuda with the beans and chorizo. My favorite are tlayudas crisped over charcoal, but you can also finish them in a 400-degree oven. Oaxacan Pasilla Chile Salsa is commonly served with tlayudas.