Burnt Tortilla

Rolled out

Fresh and white

Kneaded until my mother’s delight

Play dough

To a kid, it was out-of-sight!


Under the comal, I see blue flames doing their dance

I knew what was coming

And I could not wait

All I needed was my mother to be just a little late

For my taste buds have a date

Therefore, I shall sit here and wait


Butter is on the table

Oh, I can see it now! 

A lovely dripping over its warm, round edge

Perhaps, I will add some cinnamon

Or maybe some honey

Yes! I will add some honey – Mmmmmm


I hear the rolling pin beating a song of promise

A message creating a family of hungry smiles


One at a time they go

They look like small mountains rising from the snow



I finally see her walking away

“The next one is mine” is all I’ll say

I picture the dark bubbles beginning to form 

A burnt-scented smell, to some, is quite forlorn


I watch as she begins to grapple 

“Aye! Me quema la tortilla!”

A familiar shout

One that is appeasing to my ear

Before she goes to toss it away

I say, “No mamá, esos son mis favoritos!”

She only looks at me – and smiles, then turns away



Written by Elizabeth Mendiola

© April 2014


4 thoughts on “Burnt Tortilla

      1. Really? You’ll need to share more about this sometime. I’m so glad you liked it. I’m working on a project which I’m dedicating to my darling mother who will be 71 in July. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out. Mmmmm, tortillas 😉

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