Tamales

December 12th is the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Since Maria was named for this vision of Mary, it's her special day, so right after school we scooted out the door to Mass. (To clarify, "school" consisted of James screaming for 2 1/2 hours and everyone else generally being restless and difficult.) At Mass the boys did their impression of Chevy Chase as an altar server (well, not quite that bad) while the others decided to get in touch with their pentecostal roots. Perhaps the 100 year-old woman with the cane who sat on the other side of them found this amusing; their mother did NOT.

For a while I have been drooling for today since it is Tamale Day and the, uh, baby has really been craving tamales. Monday I made the meat, yesterday the chile sauce, and this morning the masa (dough), so when we got home, I tucked the little guys in for naps and happily agreed to let the bigger kids go across the street to throw rocks into the creek. And then for the next 2 1/2 hours I tried to encourage an oil-based dough to smoothly spread onto a water-infused corn husk....40 times.

While I did this, I reminisced about the tamales of Christmasses past...the year I was cured of tamales by a case of stomach flu....when, as a young teen, I pushed my way through a crowd of non-English speakers to buy prepared masa, money above my head in one hand and how many pounds of masa I needed shown on the other...when I was a little older, lending a hand in the assembly process and hearing my mom say, "No, Rachel, that is too thick. Make it thinner." or "Make the husk this big." or "Don't spread it so high, or it won't cook properly." Mom's directions especially made the whole process a success, but when Cecilia showed up to help, I handed her a spoon, a hunk of dough and a husk and let her go at it on her own.

Tonight's dinner included these delicious, homemade tamales, fresh cooked pinto beans with a sprinkle of cheese, and (thanks to a last minute check the emergency stash in the freezer) virgin pina coladas. We all ate well (Bill held himself down to 6), and some of the extras will be shared with our friends for Christmas presents.

By the way, listen to your mother (or failing that, listen to my mother). Even if greatly temptated, do not eat store-bought tamales. When we went to buy hojas (corn husks), I was drooling for a delicious, spicy tamale so I decided to try the El Salvadoran kind made at the store. I'm pretty sure that "El Salvadoran" does not mean slimy, flavorless, and including chicken neck vertebrae. But "store-bought" does.