By Carmen Rioja
A quintessential example of deep gastronomy throughout Mexico are tamales, those steam-cooked lumps of corn dough wrapped in steaming leaves that can be plain or contain any variety of fillings and sauces. Tamales are undoubtedly one of the most traditional dishes in Mexico, if not the most. If you are not a connoisseur of tamales, you cannot call yourself Mexican. But, oh tamales, how to eat them without getting fat—so much.
The tamale is the faithful companion of every Mexican. At six in the morning, sometimes even at dawn, there is already a lady or gentleman of the tamales at a crossroads, or on a sidewalk outside the market. Even before the tenants open, there is already a huge pot from which a cloud of steam is released every time the lid is opened. Inside, several dozen are wrapped in corn husks or banana leaves, seated in their sponginess, looking at us mysteriously from the mist. In some you can see – sprouting from the center of the leaves – an exuberant filling that barely shows: red, green, sometimes yellow, or black mole. Each tamale is unique in flavor and can represent a whole cosmogony by itself.
The Mexican gastronomic wealth is so vast that not even the most adventurous families would be able to know and try all the tamale recipes that exist. The National Institute of Anthropology and History registers more than 400 recipes that are multiplied in nearly 2,000 varieties of tamales by region and family customs. Tamales are associated with birthdays, baptisms, weddings and, finally—tamales cannot be missing in all posadas and important meetings—especially on the day of the dead and funerals. The tamales and the atole are indispensable. And of course, the big party in terms of tamales, which is the celebration in honor of Candelaria that takes place in February to raise the baby God from birth.
For me, tamales represent the past. They are the connection with my ancestors, especially with my predecessors—strong women who broke the corn with the strength of their arms and lovingly wrapped morsels that can be held in their hands and raise the dead. My aunts made tamales for Christmas, especially pork, mutton or chicken, beans, beef, and even one Christmas we had deer because my uncle had run into one on the road and since he had no money to pay for the hunting permit, there was no choice but to eat it. I don’t know what I would do without tamales and that’s why I can’t live outside of Mexico. I would probably become bitter and dysfunctional.
A friend told us about her vegan friend who came from Canada to live in San Miguel de Allende and was happy because she always found fresh country products to eat with variety in her vegan diet. But she did not understand why she had gained 10 pounds in the four weeks that she had been in Mexico. She had been eating two rajas tamales for breakfast every day for the last three weeks. They were delicious! And according to her, vegan. She listened to her describe them with singular joy, and on top of that, she emphasized, they are cheap! “Will I tell her, or will I not tell her?” my friend wondered. After thinking about it for a while, he explained it to her, “I do see why you’re getting fat, you’re going to have to lower your portion of tamales, because to make them fluffy, the tamales here, almost always, even if they’re rajas or pure sauce, are made with lard.” The poor thing had contradicted herself because she didn’t particularly eat pork. After a while they met again, her friend was thin and she seemed very happy. She had discovered the Veracruz tamales of a vegan who made them with black beans and the dough only had vegetable oil.
I believe that in order to find the “ultimate tamale” the best possible tamale for each person—you have to understand where they come from. Tamales already appeared in pre-Hispanic codices such as the Florentine. They are sacred food in festivities and offerings to the gods. The Calakmul murals and the scene of a lady offering tamales are famous, as are the chronicles of the conquest by Fray Bernardino de Sahagún, who narrates in his General History of the Things of New Spain, «that the Mexica used the meat of turkeys, flamingos, frogs, axolotls, rabbits and fish, as stuffing for corn husks.”
In San Miguel every morning there are, in front of the Local Livestock Association on the road to Los Rodríguez, some ladies with exquisite tamales. Arrive before 9am because the two pots run out. Also highly recommended are the classics on Calle Insurgentes, next to the Oratorio. And those who do by request for meetings, the nuns in the Convent of La Purísima Concepción. At the truck stop on Calle Calzada de La Luz, on the corner of Ánimas, there are other delicious but spicy ones. And to eat sitting down on a Sunday with the family, those of the Café de La Parroquia on Calle de Jesús.
For all evil, a tamale, and for all good, too. ¡Buen provecho!
Image: Offering of tamales to a deity, Florentine Codex, INAH
