Here’s a little known fact about tamales: they are one of the world’s oldest dishes—dating back an estimated 10,000 years. But their taste, connoisseurs swear, make them as good today as the gift of the gods they were thought to be some 400-500 generations ago.
Yes, the simple tamale, masa, meat, wrapped in a husk and cooked to perfection, was once a staple for soldiers and traders in pre-Columbia times. Tamales could easily be packed for long distance traveling and serving as both the perfect snack and as a complete meal.
Now, pushing 10,000, give or take a few years, tamales are still a ‘go-to’ snack or even entrée, served everywhere from buffet lines at fancy soirees to even the most upscale Mexican restaurants. They’re also that one food that brings Latino friends and families together to collectively prepare as dinner table ‘musts’ as well as holiday gifts.
Now, as it approaches 70 years in business, in the same shadow of the once vibrant steel mill, Pueblo’s El Nopal Restaurant is just beginning its holiday tamale tradition, a tradition begun by Torres matriarch, the late Rose Torres.
“Most of the stuff we do,” said owner and grandson, George Torres, “is traditional.” El Nopal’s recipes remain frozen in time and are reflections of those his grandmother brought here from Guanajuato, Mexico, as a 14-year-old girl. Others are recipes she perfected as her own family grew.
Of course, staying in business for 70 years forces certain changes, Torres concedes. In addition to the pork tamales hand fashioned by his grandmother, “we will also do a vegetarian style or add cheese…we also do chicken.” El Nopal also does a seasonal, special tamale. It’s absent meat of any kind. “Instead of using salt, pork and meat, we use sugar, cinnamon, buttermilk, raisins and nuts.” “It’s my favorite.”
While the mill crowd no longer exists, along with a small handful of small eateries that also once served hungry workers, generational customers and the other regulars keep El Nopal a popular Evans Avenue landing spot.
This time of year, Torres said, customers not only come in to get their favorite Mexican meal, but they’ll also pick up the holiday tamales that are being cranked out by the dozens—and in this case, it is an almost unimaginable number of dozens.
It’s tamale season all across Pueblo, a city whose population is nearly 50 percent Hispanic. Over the next two weeks, Torres estimates almost matter of factly, “we’ll make around 800 dozen tamales.” (I’ll save you the math. It’s approximately 9,600 tamales!) Best of all, said Torres, “By the end of December, we’re lucky if we have a dozen left.”
Torres said the tamales El Nopal makes are different than those found in other restaurants in Pueblo. “We still cook our own corn to make our masa,” he said. It’s the way they’ve done it here from the beginning.
To meet demand, Torres said he usually hires the same extra workers he’s hired over the years. When they’ve made a shift’s work of tamales, “We flash freeze them,” to make certain when they’re reheated, they retain the right taste.
El Nopal was up and running when Torres was born. But being in and around it, and being especially close to his grandmother, he says he also inherited its soul from her. “Today, I have even greater respect for her,” especially knowing that she was barely a teen when she arrived all alone.
Over the years, Torres learned how his grandmother’s inventiveness led to an El Nopal staple, its green chili. While its taste may reflect it as a ‘labor of love,’ and that’s a nice thought, he said its origins were more a matter of necessity than anything else.
Because his grandmother had 14 children, he said, she had to make each meal go as far as it could. To stretch a recipe like green chili, Torres said, “she would add a roux to it.” As time went on, that single touch, she learned, gave her chili its own, unique allure. That epiphany and innovation is found in the green chili served today at El Nopal.
Closing El Nopal for special holidays is also a tradition. Also, when dining with family for Thanksgiving or Christmas, there are no tamales or other Mexican food items on the table. “It’s turkey, ham and stuffing,” Torres said. But the time away from the restaurant and the food and smells he’s around when he’s working there, he admits, makes him “crave it.”
The holiday’s over. It’s time for Torres to once again open the door at El Nopal and invite in the regulars. Like another place, El Nopal is a place ‘where everyone knows your name.’
