We had tamales for dinner Sunday.
Sunday was a busy day for my wife (it's her main work day). She was
also busy Saturday doing prep. On Sunday, she did Stone Soup with the
kids at church. I didn't figure she would be very interested in cooking
for dinner. In the afternoon, she drove our daughter to her apartment,
which is a long drive. On the way back, she called me. She asked if I
had any dinner ideas. I suggested tamales, and she asked where to get
them. I had walked by the soccer field, about 1/2 block from our house,
and it looked like the tamale guy was there. She asked me to bring her
back a tamale. I explained that I didn't run a delivery service, and
that my plan, since I wasn't that hungry yet, was to wait until she got
home, and then we could go down, get the tamales, and eat them there. I
talked to our younger son, asked him if he wanted a tamale for dinner,
and explained the plan. He asked if I would bring him back one, and I
replied that I didn't run a delivery service. He asked if that meant he
had to walk down with us, and I told him that that was my plan. So my
wife gets home, and asks how the tamales were. I explained the plan
again. I ask her if she is hungry, and she says that she is starving.
So we agree to check it out. My son asks her if she will bring him back
a tamale, and she agrees. Well, the tamale guy was there, and they are
US$1.25 each. We ask for four. The guy opens his trunk and gets out a
plastic grocery bag, and puts the tamales in it. I ask him if he has
any salsa. "Not today, maybe tomorrow." They are only there on
weekends, and it is Sunday. We take the bag and walk over to get a
better view of the game. My wife asks what do we do now? I explained
that I've seen kids eating these, and they just hold them in their
fingers to eat them. I pull one out, and start to peel the plastic wrap
off. It's really hot! The tamale guy comes running over. There's not
enough business to justify that many food vendors, and they are
desperate for customers. He's got two little plates. I put my tamale
on the plate, which is much more comfortable. He tears off two paper
towels from his roll. He says something about salsa. I ask him if he
*does* have salsa? "Si", and he nods his head. At this point, he is
out of words. He holds up his hand and makes a shaking motion. OK,
it's a bottled salsa. I nod, and go back to his car. He opens the
trunk and pulls out a bottle of Tapatio. I love this stuff. I just
finished up a quart, and my wife bought another one. He shakes on a
little bit, and I hold up my hand to indicate that I've got enough. He
gets a quizzical look on his face and points to my wife. I shake my
head and say, "no, no salsa". She doesn't like the hot stuff. We eat
the tamales. My wife takes the bag back to the guy, and gets two more
for our son.
--
Dan Abel
[email hidden]
Petaluma, California, USA