Press Your Luck

Finally, a place to get calentitas in Philly.

by Isaiah Thompson

Every cuisine has its sacred something, the one building block that, by definition, is at its best when handmade fresh; and automatically inferior or unacceptable when not. These treasures can be hard to find, and those who value their worth will traverse the city in search of the places that provide them. One of my earliest memories, growing up in the Mexican-American neighborhood of Pilsen in my hometown of Chicago, is of such a holy place: the tortilla factory.

It was one block from our house, and another from the El. Every evening, the trains would drop off a steady stream of folks who, on their way home for dinner, would line up at the factory's little walk-up window to buy small stacks of tortillas so fresh they had to be wrapped in paper so as not to burn the hands "Calentitas." I left that neighborhood 25 years ago, and for 25 years, I've missed those tortillas.

Fresh tortillas — real tortillas, let's call them — are so rare in Philly that they're virtually unbuyable. Odds are you've never had one. Imagine my surprise, then, a couple of Sundays ago, when I peered into a minuscule Italian Market storefront and saw — was it a dream? — men pressing fresh tortillas.

It was not a dream. It was, in fact, Tortilleria y San Roman: the only place, as far as anyone seems to know, to buy fresh-made Mexican tortillas in Philadelphia. Some local taquerias do make their own tortillas for diners; a nice touch, but not remotely the same thing. So claimed Mario and Francisco Rivera, anyway, whoown and operate the tiny business and the even tinier machines that churn the corn-flour (masa) and press it into moist, pliable tortillas.

The business was initially conceived as a regular corner grocery, but, explained Mario, the city's hunger for fresh tortillas lead them to drop the stocking-shelves part and focus solely on tortillas, which they sell for a miraculously cheap $2 per kilo (maybe two dozen). Right now, tortillas are pressed fresh only on Saturdays and Sundays — a fact hat the Riveras conveyed in apologetic tones, explaining that, God willing, they intend to have a daily tortilla operation going as soon as possible.

Besides tortillas, the store sells a few odds and ends, including canned food, condiments and fresh tortilla chips they make themselves: small, medium and large bags are $1, $3 and $5 respectively.

As I was leaving, a small group came in, inquiring in Spanish whether they had heard right: that fresh tortillas had finally landed in Philadelphia.

"Calentitas!" affirmed Mario.

(isaiah.thompson@citypaper.net)

Tortilleria y San Roman | 951 S. Ninth St., 215-303-1791. Open daily, 8 a.m.-6 p.m.