The beloved tamalada unites after a tough year
Relatives gather before Christmas to prepare dough, corn husks and fillings but also to reflect on events and family stories
SAN ANTONIO — Another chapter of las nuevas tamaleras unfolds each Christmas, just like in the Mexican American classic by San Antonio playwright Alicia Mena.
The stage comedy delivers outrageous slapstick and tearful truths.
At its core, “Las Nuevas Tamaleras” gives us three ill-prepared, modern-day tamaleras who get a heavenly assist from two tamalada bosses whose spirits guide them through far more than how to get the masa, or dough , just right. The story has connected with so many because it hits so close to home. We’re all nuevas tamaleras who recall tamalada spirits of the past in one way or another.
In the San Antonio kitchens to which I show up, I’m never the boss but at best second or third chair — the tamalera who can deliver essential ingredients the night before the big day.
This year I provided three pounds of poblano chiles, the biggest tub of lard on H-E-B’s shelves and five packages of ojas, the pliable corn husks that hold together the delicious morsels associated with South Texas holidays.
For at least a century, as documented in fading photographs, the women on my maternal side were the strongest women I knew and the best tamaleras.
They were insufferable critics and goddesses of gossip. No one was spared in Spanish, English and Spanglish.
During tamaladas, they revisited every good memory, family scandal and grievance.
As a girl, I listened and never interrupted a good story as I attempted to spread dollops of masa onto corn husks with the back of a spoon. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.
I don’t remember much about my grandmother around the tamalada table. But her daughters I remember. My mother was the youngest among them.
Every tamalada needs a boss. What she says goes. She sets the time and date of the event, plans every detail, assigns tasks and makes sure the kitchen is fully equipped.
Because two pots were in play this year, my molcajete took its place at the bottom of one of them. The volcanic rock was placed upside down for the steaming process and to keep the tamales upright.
Cata served as tamalada boss. She’s my first cousin, my prima hermana, daughter of my mother’s sister who served as tamalada boss in her day.
Cata and I grew up together. So, 6-year-old Emma was right to correct me recently when I referred to Cata, her grandmother, as my cousin.
“But she’s your sister!” she insisted.
Her nickname is short for Catherine, English for Catarina. She was named for our grandmother who came to the United States as a child long before the Mexican Revolution.
Cata can be a stern tamalada boss, but is equally as kind. She didn’t criticize my tardiness, at least, not to me. “I have to go to an event and introduce the keynote speaker,” I said, explaining why I’d be late.
She didn’t even roll her eyes. By the time I arrived, the hardest task, la embarrada, was done. Embarrar is Spanish for smear, in this case to smear masa on the ojas.
This year the boss said the traditional pork tamales would not be made. Cata decided we’d fill our tamales with Oaxaca cheese and rajas, strips of roasted Poblano peppers. Others
would feature jalapeños and refried beans. Good thing that Cata’s refried beans could win championships.
In between each of the tamalada stages, there were stories. They reflected another tough year. It claimed Cata’s brother, a former Marine, whose death was linked to drug addiction, another longtime pandemic. Still, there was much for which to be grateful and joyous, including a pandemic baby who turned 1 this year.
Because we’re blessed with eternal optimism, we told far more stories of love and laughter than of loss. Emma made a couple of skinny tamales and listened quietly. It was another successful tamalada, and our tamales are delicious.
Maybe your family doesn’t have a tamalada. Perhaps you gather to make cookies or cocoa. You may barbecue instead.
It makes no matter. All such events have their bosses, and this year I wish you one as good as ours.