Last month my path crossed with leftover corn tortillas three times.

The first time was during dessert at Regards on Congress Street in Portland. We got one order of tortilla ice cream with blueberry hibiscus granita and honeycomb to share, and it was one of those times I regretted not getting my own bowl. The cream for the ice cream, the waiter explained, was steeped with house-made corn tortillas typically served as shrimp or lobster tacos, or flat and warm to be used to pull pieces of Shio koji and tare-marinated Hamachi from the fish’s collar as part of the experience of eating that (highly recommended) dish. The corny flavor left in the cream yielded an earthy complement to the sweet and sour garnishes.  

Then my crafty food friends descended on Maine for our annual mud season knitting weekend.  On Sunday morning, we realized we’d not yet consumed the smoky salsa cookbook author Cathy Barrow had to check a bag to bring on her flight up from Washington, D.C.

“Do you have some fresh corn tortillas?” she asked.

In the fridge I had a half-eaten package of the Scarborough-made Tortillería Pachanga variety. She stepped up and made chilaquiles rojos (recipe below), a traditional breakfast dish of crispy tortilla chips in red salsa with cheese and crema, a loose-form soured cream typically flavored with lime. Typically, chilaquiles rojos are served with fried eggs, but Cathy cracked the eggs right into the cast iron pan and simmered them in the sauce.  

And finally, after the knitters had departed, I got a text from a cousin that read: “Hey Chrissy, what can I do with a crockpot and a stack of stale corn tortillas for an easy Monday-night dinner?”

As a cub reporter in the 1990s, an old editor told me that if the same thing pops up three times in a week, there is likely a news story in there somewhere. Given geopolitical goings on lately, I wouldn’t call leftover tortillas news, but I do think they are delicious fodder for a food column. 

Have you noticed how commercial corn tortillas are sold in counts that are not easily consumable at one meal? Hannaford yellow corn tortillas come in packs of 30. Costco tempts buyers with bags of 50. And Walmart sells Guerrero brand white corn tortillas in packs of 80. 

For tacos, I much prefer corn to flour for the flavor, but I can’t deny that the former are really at their most subtle (and therefore useful as a taco filling carrier) for about two, maybe three, days after you’ve opened the package. As they get stale, they tend to crumble when they are cold and seem to separate in layers when you attempt to warm them upon a griddle. 

At the very basic level, these tortillas are made from masa harina, a nixtamalized corn flour, and water.  

Famed food scientist Harold McGee in “On Food and Cooking” says the staling of any type of bread, whether that’s a baguette made with French flour, a sourdough boule made with Maine Grains flour, or a tortilla made with Mexican masa harina, has less to do with the amount of moisture that has left the product, than it does with how the starch molecules recrystallize into more tightly bound masses and become crumblier as they sit, even when wrapped tightly, in the fridge. 

There are two ways to fix the problem of stale corn tortillas. You make them completely rigid by drying them out completely. Or you make them a corny mush with some liquid that will then be both flavored and thickened by the masa flour in play. 

Do dry them out completely so you can fry them whole in hot oil to make tostadas, in triangles to make chips, or strips to make chilaquiles rojos with poached eggs. If you want to avoid the hot oil for either health or kitchen messiness reasons, you can also put several in an air fryer or crisp them up, one at a time, a gas range flame with the help of a set of long tongs to flip them over.  If you are using that last technique, don’t walk away from the stove as the tortillas burn easily. 

To answer my cousin’s question, the easiest way to use up your leftover corn tortillas in a crockpot is to cut them up into ¼-inch pieces and add them to your favorite Mexican-inspired shredded chicken recipe as those literally melt into the sauce, bulking the overall yield, and thickening the liquid. A good ratio to reach this end is for every cup of liquid added to the pot, add in 1/4 cup of corn tortilla pieces.

My last corn tortilla tip circles back to that ice cream I had at Regards. If you’re making custard that calls for cream — whether that’s for gelato, crème brulee or posset — first warm it with a couple of torn, corn tortillas for a couple of hours. If you want just the flavor with no additional texture, use a fine-mesh strainer to separate the cream from the tortillas and proceed with your recipe. But if you want to get a produce with a thicker, grainier texture, just give the cream and saturated tortillas a whiz in the blender before proceeding with the recipe. 

Chilaquiles Rojos with Poached Eggs

This is a traditional Mexican breakfast that makes use of stale corn tortillas. It’s often served with fried eggs, but these ones are poached in the same pan for easy cleanup. 

6-8 corn tortillas, cut into strips
Vegetable oil 
Salt
1 1/2 cups of salsa 
2 eggs
Shredded cheese
Cilantro leaves
Sliced avocado
Lime wedges
Hot sauce

Pour 1/2 inch of vegetable oil into an 8-inch cast iron skillet. Smooth out a paper bag on the counter for draining. 

Heat over medium high heat. When the oil is hot — you can test this by dropping one strip into the oil and if it sizzles quickly, it’s hot — drop half of the strips into the hot oil. Stir so all are sitting in the oil, and fry until golden and firm, 3-4 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the fried strips to the paper bag to drain. Immediately sprinkle with salt. Repeat the process with the other half of the tortilla strips. 

Drain all but about a tablespoon of oil from the pan. Place it back over medium heat until is simmers. Toss chips gently in the sauce to coat evenly. Gently crack eggs into the simmering mixture. Cover until the whites are cooked, but the yolks are still runny. Sprinkle shredded cheese over the top. Serve immediately, garnished with cilantro leaves and lime wedges. Hot sauce on the side is always appreciated. 

Local foods advocate Christine Burns Rudalevige is the former editor of Edible Maine magazine and the author of “Green Plate Special,” both a column about eating sustainably in the Portland Press Herald and the name of her 2017 cookbook. She can be contacted at [email protected].