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Tamales

 
I live in South Texas, where tamales are an important part of life. We know from tamales.
 
The difference between a good tamale and a bad one is like the difference between a hot, Krispy Kreme delicacy and that half doughnut you found on the floor in your car.
 
The first time I had real tamales, I ate 8 of them in 10 minutes. I only stopped because it was getting ridiculous.
 
It's the masa, or dough, that makes or breaks a tamale. Good ones are moist and savory. They melt in your mouth and make you groan with desire.
 
Christmas is the traditional time to be making tamales and the time of year that Hispanic women pass on the secrets of this ancient art to their daughters and granddaughters. The best tamales come from their kitchens, but you have to be a friend of the family to get some.
 
The Preacher's tips for eating tamales:
 
1. Do not eat the corn shuck wrapper, Yankee.
 
2. Do not put salsa or chili on a tamale, not on a good one anyway. That's...unseemly.
 
3. A fresh jalapeno is a nice compliment. Fresh, not those pickled abominations. Slice it up and take your chances. Fresh peppers vary greatly in how much heat they pack. If the pepper is hot, one slice will light you up for the duration. You learn to manage your peppers and keep a nice burn going. Nice, but not too much.
 
People who love hot peppers surf the line between pain and pleasure for the endorphin rush.
 
4. Have plenty of cold beer and flour tortillas on hand for First Aid.
 
In most South Texas towns you can find a restaurant that makes tamales in the traditional way, with lots of love and no shortcuts, but you will have to be on a serious quest.
 
Reynaldo's is that restaurant in our town. It took me 5 years to find it.
 
You don't go into Reynaldo's to buy tamales. You knock at the side door of the kitchen and speak with Lupe. There are three large stoves, each with 6 huge, steaming pots on top. You buy tamales by the dozen. Lupe scoops them out and wraps them in butcher paper and foil.
 
If you are smart you will ask for one and eat it right on the spot. At first you will not be able to speak. When you can speak, your words will be given by the Holy Spirit.
 
“Oh my God” seems to be the most common utterance among Anglos. “Madre de Dios”, among Hispanics.
 
Lupe has been making tamales at Reynaldo's for 40 years.
 
While I was in high school, she was making tamales.
 
While I went to college, she was making tamales.
 
While I struggled with God in seminary, she was making tamales.
 
While you and I pour out our souls and struggle with issues of faith and life, she is making tamales.
 
She makes and serves tamales. That is her life.
 
Do you think her life is less fulfilling than yours or mine, less interesting and less actualized?
 
You wouldn't think so if you ate her tamales with your closest friends. If you let the jalapeno arouse and the masa soothe you, if you felt the endorphins release into the buzz from your beer and felt your passion for your friends rise until you could not contain your laughter, then you would not think so. You would praise the name of Lupe and marvel at what she gives this world.
 
There would not be tamales if there were not people like Lupe.
 
She and others like her are the most Christ-like people in our town, literally giving their lives away for their friends.
 
The Preacher