"Tamales"

Abbreviated adaptations from my journal.

Day three: I still don't feel sick.

Today Doña Delfina, Graciela and two of her kids and I went to the plaza to buy tamale ingredients. We ended up with bags so full that I had to rest them on my legs and sort of waddle between the stalls of the market. While there, I continuously heard the name "güera." I thought they were telling me "fuera," get out. But Graciela explained that it was a term of affection, meaning something like "blondie." No surprise, really. Everyone and everything in Mexico has a nickname. I never once heard gringa.

I made my way to the combi (the taxi-van) to wait for Doña Delfina while she got the masa for the tamales. She came back 15 minutes later with a bucket filled with a sandy white substance made from corn, the foundation of the tamales.

She showed me how to soak the dried corn husks and sift the masa before adding the anise, the lard, the oil, and other ingredients that make the bulk of the tamal. Simultaneously, she was making salsa verde and cooking chicken to be used to fill the tamales. Then she showed me how to wrap them all together in the corn husks! We ended up with a small army of tamales, waiting to be boiled for an hour. In the meantime, family members were arriving. Tamales are an occasion. Although, for the Soto family, they hardly need an excuse to come together. The eight children return frequently to the ranch, just to sit on the kitchen benches and platicar, pass chisme.

Felipe, one of the Soto brothers, was excited to practice his English with me. But Rogelio took special offense at his forwardness, reminding everyone that I knew Spanish. He also felt it was rude for his family to address me as güera instead of Carolina. I told them I didn't mind güera. But I didn't tell them that I will always prefer Carolina.

The tamales were a success. We had enough for dinner that night, breakfast the next morning, and lunch in the afternoon.