Its 8am on a Saturday and Marco Antonio Solis' floats in from the living room. That can only mean one thing....me espera el trapeador. As I get up with my hair in a messy bun I cautiously open the bedroom door to see my mom barriando and singing "pero recuerda....nadie es perfecto..." and I can't help but smile.
She sees me and tells me, "Mija te hago unas picaditas?". MY FAVORITE! I'd watch as my mom heated up some oil on the comal and roll some masa between her hands. After making a perfect circle with her tortilla press she'd gently place it on the comal and wait for it to get nice and crispy.
In order to make the picaditas the edges of the fresh tortilla need to be pinched all around. There was nothing more satisfying than the crunching sound as my mom pinched the sides with her bare hands. It was like...stepping on crunchy leaves in the fall.
This one is dedicated to my Mommabear. We no longer have the weekend chores and picaditas are now a rare occasion. A simple meal, but definitely full of memories.