An implicit rule in the art of sandwich-making is that texture — lots of it — is good. A handful of chips pressed into soft bread have the power to transform a humdrum sandwich into something infinitely more engaging. With that imperative in mind, the tecolota torta at Tortas Morelos in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, is the epitome of a great sandwich.
The sandwich takes chilaquiles — a breakfast dish of day-old tortilla chips moistened with an herby green salsa or an earthy red one — and transfers it neatly onto a split roll. Teeth slide effortlessly through the lofty cap of bread, but they are quickly halted, forced to reckon with the brittle chips punctuated with cilantro and cooling sour cream.
Two years ago, Juan Velasco couldn’t find a torta in New York City as good as the ones he remembered eating in Mexico, so he pledged to perfect his own and open a restaurant. For Tortas Morelos, which opened in February, Mr. Velasco, 35, and his wife, Blanca Gonzalez, 36, deliberated over every detail.
The bread, a puffy bun called telera with a lightweight shell and sweet flavor, would be delivered daily from La Espiga Real bakery in Sunset Park. The mayonnaise had to be McCormick (the Maryland-based brand’s mayonesa is extra lush, made with lime juice concentrate, and is hugely popular in Mexico). Lettuce wouldn’t go on hot sandwiches (too soggy), and lithe Oaxacan cheese had to be adequately warmed.
“It’s my husband’s taste,” Mrs. Gonzalez said. “This is how he likes it.” Mr. Velasco’s palate may be the guiding principle, but it is Mrs. Gonzalez who does the cooking alongside her staff.
Tortas are eaten throughout Mexico, but especially so in Central Mexico — in regions like Mexico City, Morelos and Puebla. At the restaurant, which is named after Mr. Velasco’s home state, dusky orange walls hold a mosaic of photographs, including a portrait of Emiliano Zapata, the revolutionary with an intense gaze. But Mrs. Gonzalez was born in Hidalgo and raised in Mexico City, and it’s worth paying attention to her regional specialties. (The tecolota is a Mexico City invention.)
Also in Mexico City, tamales are stuffed into soft rolls, unironically replacing one portable food with another, heftier one. The version at Tortas Morelos (available only on weekends) is hearty, yet not at all redundant. A fluffy corn tamal is sheltered by a crisp shell of bread. Mrs. Gonzalez adds anise seeds to her masa — a slight herbal flavor lurking beneath the sweetness.
For the torta de mole, Mrs. Gonzalez uses a packaged mole poblano paste and enhances it with ingredients typical of Hidalgo: scorched tortillas, ancho chile and plantains. The mole, which sauces shredded chicken, is first tinny and sweet, then spicy. It is so rich in ingredients and skillfully blended that guessing the exact recipe would be hopeless.
The pambazo, technically a subcategory of torta because the bread is different, is served dripping with a sauce made from deeply pigmented guajillo peppers. (Mrs. Gonzalez couldn’t find pambazo bread to her liking, so she uses the telera.) The bread is plunged into the sauce, then pressed onto a griddle. It is stuffed with nubs of potato and crumbles of spicy Mexican longaniza, a spicy, fresh sausage similar to chorizo.
Even the basic tortas, as they are labeled, are hardly basic. The pernil, wobbly roasted pork shoulder and slick avocado tucked into pillowy bread, may ignore the crunchy ideals of the tecolota, but it works.
The restaurant’s menu lists about 10 sandwiches, when in reality, you can order from over 20. And tortas are only a fraction of what the restaurant actually makes. There are tacos, burritos and plenty of antojitos, or snacks. The tostada — a just-fried tortilla topped with stewed chicken tinga — was a terrific pre-sandwich nibble.
Recently, Mrs. Gonzalez has been making pierna mechada, a holiday pork roast stuffed with fruits and nuts, to shred and stuff into the rolls. She is wary of its success because the ingredients — like prunes and almonds — are challenging to some of her customers.
“I just made it because I like it and my husband loves it,” she said. Considering Mr. Velasco’s judicious taste and Mrs. Gonzalez’s gifts in the kitchen, the sandwich is sure to be a hit.
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