Folic acid in tortillas would prevent birth defects. But how do they taste?

Thursday mornings at La Princesita Tortilleria in East Los Angeles are dedicated to making chips, so customers couldn't get piping hot tortillas when I visited last week. But CEO Enrique Rodriguez made sure there were two fresh batches of corn tortillas available for what we had in mind.

It was time for the big tortilla folic acid test.

My older relatives have been complaining for years that corn tortillas in the US don't taste the way they should because most contain as many ingredients as the fine print in a commercial. This makes them as tasty as the peelable part of an envelope.

But over the past decade, more and more restaurants and tortilla makers have gone back to basics—using only corn, water, and lime in a process called nixtamalization—to promote the older, tastier, and healthier ways. Some, like La Princesita, never strayed from the practice and became popular for it.

Still, health advocates have argued for decades that fortifying masa with folic acid is necessary and have pushed to make it mandatory.

They cite research showing that consumption early in pregnancy dramatically reduces the development of neural tube defects such as spina bifida, and that Latina mothers lag far behind in intake compared to other ethnicities. Folic acid is so important to a fetus' health that the Food and Drug Administration mandated its inclusion in all fortified cereals in 1998, and Mexico did the same for corn porridge in 2008. A subsequent study found that it reduced the number of children born in the U.S. with neural tube defects by 35%.

Now a proposed state law would force all California commercial manufacturers of masa and masa products – corn tortillas, pupusas, tamales, tortilla chips, taco shells and more – to include the vitamin starting in 2026 (D-Fresno), it would in California is effectively ending a millennia-old culinary tradition.

A few weeks ago, U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services Xavier Becerra convened a Zoom meeting on the topic with retail giants like Kroger and Walmart.

“The general consensus was that it was a good thing and how can we make it happen?” said Tortilla Industry Assn. General Manager Jim Kabbani, who was in attendance. “One school of thought is that it's a matter of public education – get people saying, 'I want to buy the product with folic acid.' Another option is, 'Just discontinue it and let people enjoy the benefits.'”

“The data really spoke to me,” said Arambula, a former emergency room physician. He was inspired to write the bill — which passed unanimously in the Assembly last month and is scheduled for a hearing in the state Senate Health Committee next week — after researchers at UC Davis approached him.

Arambula knows what good corn tortillas taste like. Some of his favorites come from El Premio Mayor in Fresno, a taqueria I fully vouch for. But he focused on masa products, saying, “We really talked to our office to find a culturally appropriate way to take folic acid.”

Rodriguez, 40, said he supported Arambula's “idea and overall intent.” But he is in contact with the MP's office, pushing for an exemption that would allow tortilla makers like La Princesita – winners of the 2022 edition of my KCRW Great Tortilla Tournament – to sell unadulterated products to restaurants and allow restaurants to try out their own products Tortillas

“Chefs are specifically looking for tortillas like ours,” he continued as we stood next to the La Princesita assembly line. “If the bill passes and a chef wants an all-natural tortilla, they'll just go to manufacturers in Arizona, Texas or other states.”

Rodriguez shook his head. “It will change who we are.”

Carlos Salgado, who helped kickstart the modern nixtamalization revolution in Southern California with the blue corn tortillas of his now-closed Michelin-starred restaurant Taco María, called Arambula's bill “extremely broad” because it included small-batch producers and restaurants. But he also thinks it's an “incomplete solution” because it doesn't help reduce prenatal costs or increase health insurance for Latinas. He pointed out that artisan bakeries in the state have long used unenriched flours without health inspectors cracking down on them, as would be the case in Arambula's bill. Tortillas.

“If the food law can make exceptions [bakers]”, Salgado said, “then they can enable the continued revival and growth of an ancient food that is so important to the health and identity of so many Californians.”

Asking how a tortilla would taste because of a life-saving supplement sounds petty. But mandating folic acid in masa isn't like adding fluoride to tap water; it compromises cultural heritage. Asking Latinos to accept a fundamental change to something that is part of our being in the name of a supposedly greater good is little better than culinary imperialism.

Arambula said he did his own taste test and found no difference. He argued that the amount he needed – 0.7 milligrams per pound of raw material and 0.4 milligrams for finished products – constituted “particles.”

“I think based on the data, we need to make sure we protect our mothers and families as best we can, and lean on the science to use all the tools available,” he told me. The Latino congressman didn't flinch when I pressed the idea that his bill would fundamentally prevent Mexicans, Salvadorans and others in California from enjoying their heritage.

“These inequalities will not go away on their own and it is important that we strengthen ourselves. I go back to, I don't see anything about people complaining [how bread tasted] before 1998. We see the advantages and appreciate it.”

His unsympathetic approach is Big Blue California at its worst: He believes the state should care for its residents from conception to death, and is willing to mess with tradition if it gets in the way.

Rodriguez said he asked Arambula's staff about the studies they relied on for his bill; they declined.

“I don’t question the science,” he said. “But is there a way to be part of the solution and keep the way we have always made our tortillas? “We want to continue making the tortillas that we have been making for over 50 years and our ancestors have been making for thousands of years.”

It was time for my taste test.

Rodriguez pulled out a 3.5-ounce bag of folic acid powder, available on Amazon for $20. “That would last us a year,” he said as I put some in my palm and tasted it. Chalky, slightly bitter — not gross, but not pleasant. I rinsed my mouth with water, closed my eyes, and picked up two warm corn tortillas.

The first tasted like a pure corn tortilla should: a pleasant initial hint of acidity, a soft texture, a final touch of earthiness. The second had a subtle taste of… something. It lingered on the palate longer than an old-school tortilla and became too rubbery in my mouth. The difference was obvious – it contained folic acid.

I opened my eyes. The tortilla with folic acid was also a little yellower than the one without.

“All [at La Princesita] “I immediately knew there was a difference and was able to go with our original,” Rodriguez said. “It doesn’t taste bad, but it’s not the same tortilla.”

La Princesita's production manager, Cesario “Chayo” Covarrubias, who has worked there for 35 years, came by wearing a hairnet and white coat. I asked if he could identify which was which.

“They tasted the same,” he replied in Spanish, eliciting a laugh from Liborio Cano, who was shoveling chips into boxes during his first week on the job. “Nah, you could easily tell them apart!”

I asked Chayo what he thought of Arambula's bill.

“If they want us to bring it in, we have to bring it in,” he said in a Rancho-libertarian tone that mixed resignation and matter-of-factness. “If they don’t want to do it, we won’t do it.”

Rodriguez looked at shelves full of bags of La Princesita white corn and yellow corn tortillas. Arambula's bill would also force manufacturers to declare on their labels that their products contain folic acid. “We can do a whole bunch of that with this,” he said, thinking aloud about the path forward for La Princessita. “Make our packaging pink.” He pointed to La Princesita’s logo, a smiling Jackie O. lookalike. “Hey, we can get her pregnant!”

La Princessita President Monica Ramirez joined us. She did the taste test and guessed correctly.

“On the one hand, I support [the bill] For health reasons,” said the 44-year-old. “On the other hand, it hurts my heart because it is a process that my father went through. That’s what he learned and that’s what he taught us.”

She smiled painfully. “It hurts, but for me they're both the same.”

Rodriguez wants to ask his fellow tortilla makers to write a letter to Arambula and plans to request a meeting with state Sen. Maria Elena Durazo, who represents East Los Angeles. “This is the epicenter of tortilla making,” he said, “so she needs to listen.”

We stepped outside and walked toward an electrical box that had a picture of Francisco “Pancho” Ramirez, the founder of La Princesita, Monica's father and Rodriguez's father-in-law, painted on it. He towers over corn stalks as he drops kernels onto dark earth. Rays of sunlight envelop the scene as a hummingbird flies nearby.

Rodriguez sighed, resigned to the advance of modernity. “That’s how we’ve always done it.”