Corn: a Mesoamerican gift

‘Morning has come for humankind, for the people of the face of the earth’

The Popul Vuh, the sacred creation text of the Quiché Maya describes the creation of mankind. The gods, after several failed attempts at making mankind from mud and wooden sticks, are brought news of a mountain filled with yellow and white corn (the news comes via fox, coyote, parrot and crow). Xmucane, one of the divine grandparents, grinds the corn very finely, mixing it with water and grease to make flesh, blood and fat. 

‘The making, the modelling of our first mother-father,

With yellow corn, white corn alone for the flesh,

Food alone for the human legs and arms,

For our first fathers, the four human works.’

Finely ground cornmeal mixed with water and some lard sounds exactly like the base recipe for a simple cornmeal polenta, or if Xmucane had some wood cinders she didn’t mention, the base recipe for corn tortillas or tamales. 

While the Quiché Maya may have imagined themselves created from their staple crop, the truth was actually quite the other way round. In fact some 6000 years before the Maya’s ancestors the Olmec arrived, corn’s predecessor Teosinte was beginning to be domesticated, a process which would finally leave us with the many corn varieties we have now. 

Teosinte is a tall grass-like plant native to Central and Southern Mexico whose small, hard corn-like seeds scatter easily from the pod and don’t give much sustenance. Its progeny, the fruits of those ancient Mexican’s selective breeding, have spread far and wide; the twin families of maize and corn have crossed oceans and continents - familiar to us as polenta, grits, cornbread, masa and popcorn, amongst myriad others. 

Teosinte’s children form such key parts of so many cuisines that it’d be impossible to cover them all in one go. So I’m going to start with nixtamalized corn tacos, those little discs of comal fried masa, puffy and glorious smelling. Their ubiquity in modern Mayan cuisine makes them a fitting child of Xmucane’s labour.

If you’ve never made them freshly I implore you to get online and order some masa, it’s the easiest thing in the world to make and the aroma of them cooking is quite magnificent. Nutty, corny, maybe a little bit mushroomy and often with a touch of something floral. Rarely does something I cook speak to me quite so strongly of fine Chardonnay. So with a nod to nominative determinism I’m taking my inspiration from the  curator of archaeobotany and archaeogenomics at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History; Logan Kistler, author of this paper on the genetic origins of Maize and namesake with one of the greatest Californian Chardonnays, the iconic Kistler vineyards. 

Thankfully, given the prohibitive cost of Kistler’s Chardonnay, we rarely eat tacos on their own and it’s here that we see the true glory of central America taco culture. 

Cochinita Pibil tacos; I doubt there’s anything dish more iconic than the achiote and bitter orange marinated pit roasted pork. From the heartland of the Maya, the Yucatan peninsula, and employing a method of cooking that dates from the pre-Columbian era it’s hard not to be entranced by the idea of Pibil. Central to the flavour of Conchita Pibil is the recado rojo which is smeared on the pork. Smoky and earthy from achiote paste with warming allspice and cinnamon cut by the tang of bitter orange and brought together by the sweet juiciness of slow roast pork flesh. All this takes me straight to new wave Australian or Californian Pinot Noir (also McLaren Vale Grenache) as I want warm fruit unhindered by the awkward strictures of new oak. I’m looking to pair the smokiness and spice with something bright but yet I don’t want anything overly muscular. 

Moving to tacos that might even arrive on a plate. Baja fish tacos, deep fried fish, mayo or sour cream, avocado, jalapenos, these are very different beasts to their meaty cousins. Bright, fresh, fruit forward whites is where we are at. Albarino, Godello, Vermentino, particularly anything with a healthy dash of coastal salinity so the wine almost acts as seasoning. 

Finally, grilled beef tacos, the tacos I probably make the most often at home. Thin slices of steak, seasoned heavily and licked with smoke from the BBQ, some sort of salsa, probably something creamy, almost always pickled red onions and hot sauce. It’s a punch of flavour and heat, the iron like tang of the rare steak adding to the messy feral quality of the meal. I’m now in Southern France, herbal, black pepper infused Syrah dominated blends from the Languedoc and Roussillon, the bit lip ferrous bleed of Mourvedre, the burly generosity of the better end of the Southern Rhone’s Grenaches all of these sit happily at the table with my grilled beef tacos, their slight culture shock quickly forgotten as the meal gets going. 

Beef tacos.

One of many

Masa

100g masa per person is about what I work on. 

1:1.5 masa:water ratio 

Large pinch salt for every 200g masa

Knead until smooth, wrap and let sit for half an hour. 

Make golf ball sized balls and press between 2 pieces of grease proof (unsurprisingly a taco press is ideal for this).

Fry your tacos in a cast iron pan that’s hotter than you think it needs to be, otherwise the first taco will be like the first pancake and shit. 

Transfer the cooked tacos into a folded tea towel and they’ll stay nicely warm for a good while.

Cook your steak on a BBQ, I’m assuming you know how to do this. I season only with salt and am a fan of the turning regularly method. Let it rest and slice thinly. 

Serve with quick pickled red onions, sour cream, coriander, hot sauce, maybe a guacamole. This part is pretty flexible.