Tamales Chingones

La mama: n. La mas chingona de todas

n.The most badass of them all

Of course my first post was going to be about her. Of course it was going to be about the best cook on any coast. Of course it was going to be about the woman who welcomed me home to the smells of fresh tortillas, frijoles, homemade salsa, and fruit from our trees everyday growing up. Of course it was going to be about the woman that grew up in poverty with one pair of shoes and dolls made of yarn. Of course it was going to be about the woman who grew up  in a machista world with rules I cannot even fathom that make me want to scream just thinking about. Of course it was going to be about the woman that came from the smallest pueblo and a 5th grade education into a huge, terrifying world of uncertainty with nothing but a dream for a better life. Of course it was going to be about the woman who gave me everything while keeping nothing for herself. Of course my first blog post is about the strongest woman I know, my mom.

When I think of the warmth of my mother, I always think about making tamales around the holidays. Before I could even reach the kitchen counter, I pulled up a chair, rolled up my sleeves,felt the squishy, grainy masa between my fingers and filled pockets of corn-heaven with meat goodness. See the evidence below.

Growing up, Christmas was always the same no matter how old we got. We woke up early in the morning bumped some merengue mixed with traditional Christmas music and started our 10 hour endeavor. We would dance, laugh, and revolve around our kitchen for days on end. We spoke about relationships and stories, families and friends-- about the past and the future. Christmas in a Mexican household, like many other households, is centered around cooking and being in the kitchen together. The kitchen is the heart of the household always, but especially around Christmas, while we make dishes like tamales, ponche, and mole which are day long, multi-person feats.

Because of these vivid, vibrant memories around Christmas centered around my mom and her amazing (dare I say, the best) tamales, it is only natural she and her tamales would be the focus of the first spotlight.

I spoke to my my mom about when she started making tamales which painted a picture of how she grew in poverty and how poverty can affect celebrating a quintessentially joyous holiday. We chatted as she was beating the crap out of some masa--

Amaris: So mom, when did you start making tamales?

Mama: Well I can't even remember at this point. Well we only really made tamales when we could afford the ingredients. You know I grew up extremely poor, and lots of times we couldn't really afford to make tamales. It was really only in special times that we would make it and in years where my parents saved enough money for a good Christmas meal.

Amaris: So what would you make, if anything, when you couldn't afford it?

Mama: Well usually we would just make bunuelos (bunuelos are fried tortillas or dough with sugar) because it was cheap. We would make those and we would get one small toy usually made out of yarn or wood and that was our Christmas.**

**Inner Amaris Monologue: Fuck, comparing our feasts of me eating 20 tamales in one night and opening a sea of presents to my mom eating a fried tortilla like it's a treat and getting doll made from things you can find in your yard is too much. WHY DO I EVER COMPLAIN ABOUT ANYTHING.

A: So did you spend it with the immediate family or go out and spend it with people?

M: No. My parents were extremely strict. The pueblos would have these amazing Posadas around the whole town that would finish in these great parties with music and pinatas and food. [A Posada is a progression of a group of people going door to door reenacting Mary and Joseph searching for a place to stay. It is a hella Catholic tradition bu it's just an excuse to party at multiple people's homes. AKA the Mexican, guilt-ridden version of a block party that always ends in people getting crunk.] But my parents were so strict that we couldn't go so we would just longingly heard the music from our house and just thought about everyone having fun.**

**Inner Amaris monologue: OMFG I'M SOBBING EVERYWHERE RIGHT NOW. The fact that my mom's memories of Christmas were of her being cooped up inside a house listening to the laughter and music of people makes my heart tear in so many pieces. It makes sense that Christmas in our family has always been a large event centered around food, music, and tokens of our affection. Because my mom had none of that growing up, she needed feel a sense of family and community in the family she created since she remembers having none of that in her own upbringing.

^My grandma's house in Contitlan, Zacatecas, Mexico where my mom spent much of her life

A: Were your brothers allowed to go to the Posada?

M: Yeah the women were not allowed to go at all. The boys, once they got older (my mom is the eldest) were allowed to go if they wanted to.

A: So the girls were just expected to make the food while the men could go to the Posada?

M: Yes. The men didn't help make any of the food. My family was so strict on the women. We were expected to just stay in the house.

A: That seems ridiculously unfair.

M: Yeah. But, it was the only way we knew in our household.**

** Inner Amaris monologue: OH hell no. This is the epitome of how a machista culture feeds into multiple facets of the everyday lives of people in Latin America. It is not just in the expressions of blatant sexism but also in the everyday lives of communities as we can see in the way my mom's pueblo celebrates Christmas. Poverty wasn't the only factor contributing to my mother's inability to enjoy the pleasures of Christmas. It was the intersection of poverty and machismo that forced my mom to stay at home alone without the simple joys of Christmas within their community.

^My mom's pueblo, Contitlan, is in a rural area in Zacatecas, Mexico. The fun thing to do is to walk to the river. I kid you not

A: Well let's get back to these tamales. Is this your mom's recipe or yours or a mix?

M: It's a mix of a lot of things. I actually got the tip to put lemon in the vegetable shortening from my sister-in-law after I was older and making them on my own. Since they make tamales with lard usually, the lemon would cut the lard so it wasn't so heavy. Now I use it with the vegetable shortening and the lemon to make it nice and light.

A: So it seems like this recipe is really a mix of a lot of different women's recipes.

M: Yea, I just tried things here and there from different women in my family to finally arrive at this one I use today. Even now I still mess around with it. Like the rajas [rajas is a type of tamal that is stuffed cheese and chile. Sounds bomb right?] ones I make for you since you are a vegetarian [she rolled her eyes at this point]. I mix up different cheeses I like that I would have never had in Mexico like Feta cheese along with different salsas and moles. Trying new things and finding something tasty is the fun part of cooking.

A: And your creativity with cooking using your memories and what you learn over the years is what makes you such a badass cook and a badass lady.

**Inner Amaris Dialogue: The history of these tamales is so telling of the mixture of modern and old Mexican traditions. It includes the basic recipe passed down from my grandma which I am sure was passed by her mom, along with some tricks of the trade acquired through the years from aunts, and topped off with some original mama style. It brings together so many holiday experiences--painful ones, ones with my father's family, and finally ones with the family my parents created on their own in the U.S. It's why you can taste all the love in every pocket of goodness and why it will forever be my favorite meal made by my favorite person.

FOR THE TAMALE RECIPE CLICK HERE.