All across Pueblo the rush is on. It began as the Thanksgiving holiday drew near. People, all colors, sizes, genders were either making their orders or picking them up. It had nothing to do with turkey but everything to do with tamales. They were selling like, uh, hotcakes but even more so.
“We were selling 25-30 dozen each day,” said Alexandra Martinez who spent much of her days answering phones and filling orders at Pueblo’s Sonoran Meat Market & Restaurant. The restaurant could have sold more, but said Martinez, “we only have them on the weekends.”
Tamales are one of the world’s oldest recipes. Both archeologists and anthropologists who study these things believe the first tamales go back 10,000 years, predating even corn, now essential in their making.
The first tamales were as labor intensive as anything in the Mesoamerican diet. But their taste and practicality more than made up for the hard work required to make them.
To make the masa—the dough—the earliest cooks first had to treat the corn kernels with an alkali solution to break down the cell walls that bind the masa together. Doing this made grinding down the corn easier.
Fillings, now commonly pork or beef, back then could be anything—anything!! Tamales could be filled with deer, rabbit, turkey, armadillo, fish or frog. Not all fillings were necessarily savory. Honey and flower-filled tamales were common, too.
Beyond taste, tamales were also practical. They could be packed away easily for hunters or soldiers who could be gone for weeks at a time. They were also the food to celebrate the gods or for certain special feasts.
Today, at restaurants like Pueblo’s Sonora Meat Market & Restaurant, when the calendar turns over and its holiday season, it’s also ‘tamale season.’ The tamale has gone national. Actually beyond!
Once a staple across the southwest, today the holiday rush for tamales is as common as the Latino diaspora. Wherever a Latino community exists, tamales have taken hold. Individual recipes and styles, including vegetarian and those made sans lard have also found their niche.
The tamales sold at Pueblo’s Sonoran come from a Mexican recipe. “They’re home made,” she said. The family that makes them “brings them to our store” for the weekend. They sell in both half-dozen and full-dozen quantities. And, she said, they also sell out.
“I like ours,” said Martinez, a bit of a boast in her voice. “Honestly, they’re not like others.” Those sold at the Sonoran Restaurant, she said, have a moist texture and “a bit of spice.” And having tasted the tamales made in Colorado’s neighbor to the south, Martinez boasts, she’ll take Pueblo’s.
“I’ve been to New Mexico,” she said. “I like our chili better,” referring to the spice essential in good tamales. “But ours (Pueblo’s) are better, more authentic.”
While tamales are a seasonal ‘fave,’ Martinez says her restaurants ‘tamale plate’ also seems to sell better this time of year. “An order is two tamales and rice and beans,” she said. It comes with green chili and queso.
From now until the New Year, tamales and tamaladas, gatherings where friends and families get together to make them will be happening. The tamale, once the scourge of the Spaniards who invaded and conquered Mexico and also tried to eliminate it from the indigenous diet, is now a both a mealtime staple and holiday gift.
It is said that as many as 500 different varieties of tamales, are found across Mexico. Once a food thought only for the ‘lower classes’ is today common in homes, restaurants and street corners across Central and South America.
The once humble tamale has also found its way into music. Legendary guitarist Robert Johnson, said to have acquired his skill by selling his soul, wrote and played, “Here Comes the Hot Tamale Man.” Eric Clapton and the Red Hot Chili Peppers also have their own songs that pay homage to the tamale.
