The owners of Tortilleria Allison make 100 pounds of masa dough a day. Some tortillas are set aside for sale by the pound but at times sell out by midday.
Shannon Lee/For the Times Union
A haze of wood ash from a burning fire floated into a pot of boiling dried corn kernels some 3,500 years ago in what is now present-day Mexico. This process, known as nixtamalization, changed the chemical makeup of the corn, making it more nutritious and preservable — but most importantly, pliable enough to create masa, the corn dough that is the heart of Mesoamerican cuisine. It’s the foundation for everything from tortillas to tamales to tostadas, so essential to Mexican culture that there is a saying: “Sin maíz no hay país (Without corn, there is no country”).
Still, for most of my life growing up in the New York City of the ’90s and early aughts, masa was never part of the lexicon of Mexican cuisine. Flour tortillas reigned supreme, save for the corn-based “hard shell” tacos that came in Taco Tuesday kits. In the last decade, thankfully, there has been a pointed revival of these ancient traditions in the U.S., led by Mexican immigrants putting in the painstaking work to do things the right way. Though most places flaunting handmade tortillas use masa harina, or masa flour, which comes pre-nixtamalized, there are a few obsessives who have gone to the lengths to source their own local heirloom corn and mill the alkalized kernels on-site to produce masa from scratch.
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Tortilleria Allison in Poughkeepsie is one such place. There, in a modest and cheery storefront with a rainbow of picado flags hanging from the ceiling, tortillas are served warm off the comal (griddle) and resting under cloth so they continue to steam. Once unveiled, a waft of earthy aromas rises: the sweet nuttiness of popcorn mixed with the faint minerality of geosmin, a soil-based compound that creates the distinct smell of earth after it rains. Heavy and pliant, the tortillas flop gracefully in hand. Torn open, they reveal an airy pocket in the center, having puffed up on the griddle, not unlike a pita.
Casual, bright and festive, Tortilleria Allison has a small dining area dominated by a chalkboard menu.
Shannon Lee/For the Times Union
Barbacoa at Tortilleria Allison in Poughkeepsie is made with slow-roasted beef short ribs. The beans and rice, deceptive simple in appearance, are fragrant with aromatics, herbs and spices including, for the beans, avocado leaves.
Shannon Lee/For the Times Union
Eaten alone, the texture is toothsome, toasty and just a little dry. This is not a flaw but a function, making them ideal substrates for flavor absorption. Our tortillas arrived alongside an impressive spread of beef short ribs, rice and stewed black beans, all spiced addictively. The beef short ribs (on the specials menu as barbacoa) fell off the bone like pulled pork thanks to a four-hour braise in the leaves of avocado and plantain. Avocado leaves also left their fragrant mark on the deceptively simple-looking black beans, which were luscious, aromatic and smooth as velvet. Equally deceptive, the rice sang notes of tomato, onion, garlic and spices.
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All three make a perfect bite when scooped up together in a pinch of tortilla and amplified by a refreshing gulp of horchata, a delicate beverage of soaked and blended rice and cinnamon. Tortilleria Allison includes blended prickly pear fruit in their recipe, lending a gentle blush and hint of melon. While they don’t serve alcohol, there are plenty of specialty drinks: tamarind aguas fresca, dragon-fruit smoothie, freshly squeezed juices and atole, a masa-based drink served warm.
Tortilleria Allison
Address: 296 Main St., Poughkeepsie,
Price: Chips and salsa, $7; tacos, $5 each or three for $14; memelitas, $14; beverages, $3 to $8
Hours: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday, closed Monday
Info: 845-366-8490 and instagram.com/tortilleriaallison
Dietary considerations: Common allergens and modifications are not listed on menus; mostly gluten free; some vegetarian options available.
Etc.: Street parking. ADA-accessible.
“When we arrived in this country, we couldn’t find any good tortillas,” said Angeles Marieles, who owns and operates Tortilleria Allison with her husband, Jesus, and her mother, Juana. (The restaurant is named after Jesus and Marieles’s daughter.) When Angeles and Jesus lost their jobs cleaning and working with thoroughbred horses, respectively, due to the pandemic, they decided to provide real tortillas for the city’s thriving Oaxacan community and beyond. “I wanted everyone to know what tortillas are supposed to taste like,” Angeles said.
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Though the restaurant opened on Main Street in 2021, Angeles and her mother have a lifetime of experience making tortillas. Juana ran her own restaurant in Oaxaca when Angeles was growing up. Now, Juana oversees quality control at Tortilleria Allison, and her standards are uncompromising. “We bring all our spices straight from Oaxaca,” Angeles said. “If we don’t have avocado leaves to stew the beans, we just won’t make them.”
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The restaurant was opened five years ago by Angeles and Jesus Marieles and Angeles’ mother, Juana, whose exacting culinary standards inform the menu. Juana previously owned a restaurant in Oaxaca.
Shannon Lee/For the Times Union
At the center of Tortilleria Allison’s behind-the-counter kitchen, Jesus operates a series of behemoth machines that grind, mix and shape masa into 100 pounds of tortillas daily. They sell some to take home by the pound, though, to my dismay, they were sold out by the time I arrived for lunch, which is typical for the restaurant.
Jesus is also likely the one who will take your order from behind the counter and just as affably bring it to your table, served either on white porcelain or traditional Mexican tableware made of red clay, or in a woven basket. Despite operating the entire front-of-house on his own, Jesus managed an easygoing, welcoming cadence throughout a busy lunch service, which included a birthday party of eight eager local diners. Dropping eaves, it seemed they were just as elated by their dining experience as I was.
If there’s one dish that represents the heart and soul of Tortilleria Allison, it’s their memelitas, a traditional Oaxacan dish of day-old tortillas that are deep-fried, slathered in a layer of gorgeous and glistening mixture of pork lard and chicharron, which melts into the undulating waves of masa, before getting heaped with beans, shredded queso and a choice of meat.
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A house specialty, memelitas are thick tortillas slathered with lard then layered with beans, cheese and one of seven protein options. The menu says, “Visit prehistoric times with one bite.”
Shannon Lee/For the Times Union
Opting for decadence, we chose carnitas and al pastor to double up on the porky, fatty goodness — both so tender as to melt in your mouth. The specials board promotes the memelitas with illustrations of Aztec pyramids and the invitation to “visit prehistoric times with one bite!”
“It doesn’t look like much, but this is the old way of making memelitas,” Angeles said. She said people today might be used to them coming with lettuce or salad on top, closer to sopes. “We had a customer come in once who cried after having our memelitas because she said this was how her grandmother made them. We were the only place she’d been to that made them this way.”