let’s imagine together for a moment
imagine that we are on a rickety train
in the heart of Mexico traveling north
towards the United States border but
don’t freak out because that wall still
has not been built in a cabin crowded
with strangers your parents and four
siblings do what they can to remain cool
as you travel through the desert heat
along the way the stops are few and
water is scarce and your safety is
anything but guaranteed people squirm in
their seats as they attempt to find a
comfortable position to sleep as we all
just bounce along the tracks and
although this is a small price to pay
for what lies ahead hope because your
family’s headed to America that great
nation of immigrants from all over the
globe where the opportunity to form a
new life awaits as you imagine with me
you’d be forgiven if images of 2018
filled your mind but our story took
place a century ago in 1918 what a crazy
time it was across Europe World War one
was that it’s a pet heralding the end of
the last five great modern empires of
Russia Germany austria-hungary Turkey
and China in the United States the Ford
model-t continued to dominate the
automotive industry and the movement
towards prohibition was gaining steam
innovations such as Einstein’s general
theory of relativity the production of
stainless steel and even the pants
zipper were all mere months from one
another and in the midst of these
tectonic shifts of history and culture
40 day old baby girl swaddled in village
clothing is held close in her mother’s
arms as they make the 2400 kilometer
journey from Missha walk on Mexico to
the United States
her name was Esperanza which translates
fittingly to hope she was my grandmother
the Mexican Revolution turned the state
of Michelin into a literal battlefield a
steady barrage of attacks from
insurgents and rebels would often force
villagers into hiding in the hills
well the fortunate ones would have their
homes ransacked and possessions taken
and and those not so lucky would succumb
to abuses of all kinds and it’s within
this backdrop that the baby Esperanza
and her family take the precious few
belongings that they have left and flee
home to the north in search of a new
home it was only recently that I began
to appreciate the details of my
grandmother’s migration story you see I
had known that she had migrated from
Mexico as a child but I never truly
stopped to consider what she might have
lost and gained along the way I suppose
you could say it wasn’t until I too
became an immigrant that I could begin
to appreciate what is lost and what is
gained in the journey in a few months
I’ll have lived in South Korea for a
full 13 years my wife and I are at that
strange point where when people ask us
where is your home were not quite sure
how to respond because it’s California
right but then again it’s it’s it’s
South Korea right it has to be and and
we wondered to one another can it just
be both it so got me wondering in this
world that you and I live in a world
filled with global.nomads
what is it that ties us to the coach of
our lineage these are our complexions is
it our style of dress is it our values
is it our language perhaps it’s all
those things but for me nothing brings
me home more than the food growing up in
a large Hispanic family food is one of
those things that there’s never a
shortage of my parents between the two
of them have 13 siblings
that means that I have 36 cousins and
when you add in the aunts and the uncles
and the cousins having kids and their
kids having kids there are a total of a
hundred and forty of us I’m not sure if
these are family trees or diagrams on
multi-level marketing but that’s my
family and no matter the occasion
because families are so big and love
each other so much it was always the
food that took center stage because as
we all know our grandmothers they’re a
bit obsessed with ensuring that
everybody is well fed beans and rice
menudo flautas sofas enchiladas
all the good stuff all the stuff that
might have got a certain person
these dishes were labors of love often
began early in the morning or even the
evening before and I could still see as
I close my eyes the steam rising from
corn houses the tamales are being
prepared and the fragrance of the masa
and the chili and the meat rolling from
the kitchen into the dining area and on
every occasion on the most average of
days let’s say a Wednesday there are
always homemade tortillas
warm thick and fluffy firm enough to
hold whatever you put into them and I
try to put a lot and soft enough to
welcome a by tortillas that were
absolutely positively and well
unapologetically perfect now the humble
tortilla is notable for a few reasons
first of which is you could probably
find its cultural equivalent anywhere in
the globe there is chapati in Uganda
lavash in Armenia pita in Greece naan in
India paratha in Pakistan additionally
while the ingredients are incredibly
basic good tortillas are equally
incredibly difficult to make for the
uninitiated and at first I thought
making my own was going to be a piece of
cake because I’m Mexican ish how hard
could it really be but I can’t tell you
guys how many abominations I created in
my kitchen attempting to reproduce what
preliterate societies perfected
thousands of years ago my tortillas were
not warm thick and fluffy they were far
from perfect they were burnt brittle
sticky gummy this this Frankenstein as
you as it is of Laffy Taffy and matza
and in my angst on a trip home I I went
to my grandmother’s and I asked them
each of them how do you make your
tortillas so perfect how do you how do
you do it and at this point in life
there are well pastor to you making age
so the whole learning-by-doing was
completely out of the question and I got
to tell you guys he’s gonna be honest
with you we could be honest right I was
a bit underwhelmed with how my
grandmother’s responded went a bit like
this Nihal
get some flour flour get a ball put the
flour in the ball I think I know where
this is going a little salt a scoop of
lard lard beat of baking powder bit of
baking powder grandma
what about the water oh yeah water how
much grandma enough scoop bit little
enough not what I was looking forward to
exactly make perfect tortillas and the
more I pressed her the more I came to
the painful realization that neither of
my grandmother’s in fact relied on
measuring devices see they’ve been
raised doing this as all grandmother’s
do a combined 130 years of tortilla
making experience skills passed down
from generation to generation
and within their very being and
intuition that you can’t copy on a
recipe book so I knew that for the time
being store-bought tortillas we just
have to be my faded sorry grandma and
here’s what I found at the local grocery
store ladies and gentlemen you’ve been
lied to
these aren’t tortillas these are what we
call frisbees now you might say it’s a
noble attempt but I can tell you there’s
just a lot that’s not quite right about
them and it’s not just the ingredients
because those are essentially the same
and it’s not the packaging because it
says in two languages tortilla but
where they smell and look where they
taste that someone like me could only
describe as lifeless
I think we all know that intangible
quality of homemade food that attempts
to skip description but I’m gonna give
that a try
how about earthy these lack all those
things because you see the shape is just
a little too perfectly round and the
surface is just a little too perfectly
flat and and I’d imagine being
mass-produced in a factory the the
ingredients are just a little too
perfectly uniform in fact we could
probably say this that these tortillas
are technically mechanically
proportionally and well lifelessly
perfect made by machines that bear the
mark of expedience not by hands that
bear the marks of experience those
things you don’t measure out in
tablespoons ounces or grams but in love
compassion and care I’m only beginning
to understand the truth that’s been
before me since I was a child that
perfect tortillas have less to do with
the shape and the texture and the
uniformity of the ingredients and more
to do with a story that stands behind
them stories that we taste in every
single bite stories that we are invited
to relive as all homemade food passed
down to us is because our grandmother’s
era wants little girls raised by their
parents who did the best they could to
make their way through a crazy world
their once beautiful young ladies who
gave her heart to a lucky man and chose
to build a family with him and our
grandmothers stand now as the maid
sharks of the home who willingly
embraced lack so that we could made
so the next time you find yourself in
the kitchen with Grandma or your mom and
you’re making a family recipe challenge
you take a moment and learn its story
when the time comes
pass that on to the next generation
because no matter how far they travel
from home it’ll always be a reminder to
them of where they belong
thank you [Applause]