Tradition of the Tamales Essay Example

pink dough.

Add broth mixture a little at a time to the masa and mix with your hands to get a smooth, spreadable consistency. If you run out of broth, you can use hot water, but you will wish you had plenty of broth. The cleaning of the corn husk will be done in the afternoon by my two brothers and me. We would play and work at it at the same time. In the middle of stupid jokes some foul language, so inappropriate for eight graders we clean and place the corn husk in a tub of water and would leave it over night to softening of the corn husk. On Saturday morning the labor started early.

First, the maize is cooked in an alkaline solution, typically limewater, to separate the hull from the grain which is then ground and dried to become the meal we know as masa harina, or corn flower. The whole process is called nixtamalization. My father taught me about this process he used to work at a mill where large amounts of corn used to be ground up to make tortillas for the neighborhood. He would bring home 15 pounds of masa or the dough. It was traumatic the fact the he had to go to work at three in the morning and take a twenty mile ride on a bicycle before he arrived to work.

You could hear the dogs howling in the neighborhood as he peddled his way to work. I remember praying for a period of an hour, the estimated time for him to get safe to work. The lord must to hear my prayers because he always came

back home safe. My momma would get up early on a Saturday make the family coffee and she would wake us up and say okay its time to start. My dad, brothers and I would start assembling the tamales. Spread masa about 1/8 inch thick on corn husk with fingers, leaving about 1/2 inch border along the sides and 2 inch border along the top and bottom of husk.

Then use about 2 tablespoons of shredded meat or chicken to fill the tamale. Fold sides until they just overlap, fold narrow end under, and place tamale folded side down. Thin strips of the corn husks are tied around each tamale like a little belt to keep it secure. They end up becoming a little gift to be open. Knowing that there was no school that day this would automatically create a felling of over exuberance. Secondly, I would be ecstatic knowing that I could play outside in the sunny day after helping with the feast.

This creates memories of playing with my neighborhood girl friends and terrorizing the neighborhood up and down the calm streets. I remember going to the kitchen to grab two tamales at a time, but the two pieces would have to be out of the center since that is where the warmest tamales are collected. The tamales next to the edge of the pot were too cold for me so I always left those pieces for my father and brothers. I would put my tamales on a small plate, pour some salsa, and have a glass of cool aid and run into the living room to watch weekend cartoons; or the boring soccer

game if my dad had beat me into the living room.

I recall eating my tamales very slowly in mouse like bites in order to savor each piece, each flavor. However, my cool aid would be gone in a flash since the tamales had to be wash down, because often the salsa was too hot. After I had eaten my tamales and chugged my cool aid. I would go to my room and put my tennis shoes on. I then dashed outside so that my mother could help me tie my hair. Next, I would go outside where I knew any number of my neighborhood girl friends would already be playing in the streets. We would play all day long nd we would be jumping from one girl friends home to another until siesta time came. This siesta time normally was from 4-6 pm. During this time I would rest then I would wake up and everything started all over again. Anything my mother’s hands would have touched became beyond delicious. She is a real-life Tita from Como Agua Para Chocolate (Like Water For Chocolate) This is a delicious film about love, tradition, passion, communication, and typical Mexican food. There is a presence and major influence of magic and mysticism throughout the entire film connected with the symbolic expression of food.

It is great movie for food lovers. I can watch this movie over an over again. My momma’s life parallels and relate to Tita in some ways. Poor Tita her family traditions demanded the youngest daughter to remain unmarried and take care of her mother until death. I am glad this tradition is long gone otherwise

I probably would end up starting the Mexican revolution all over again. My mother was the oldest daughter of ten children and fatherless. My grandmother was gone to work while my momma would stay at home to feed and babysat her litter brothers.

My momma was much more fortunate than Tita she was able to get married after most of her brothers were grown up. Tita never married, but later in her older days she was able to love and die next to the love of her life not my favorite ending, but she wasn’t an American female raised on Disney. Tita and my mother were groomed to be a great cooks considering the circumstances are a bit different. I love to cook and I think I'm a damn good one. I would always watch my momma as I was growing up, I notice that she didn’t measure the ingredients she went by experience.

If it 'looks about right' then that's about how much goes into it. It's not a culinary art in my family; it's just cooking for those you love. Cooking it's a bit of a stress reliever. My therapy time. I'll go in the kitchen and cook something to get my mind off things that are bothering me depression, anxiety, the baby that needs constant attention from me. Cooking has the means of communication, expression, ability to relax and engage in something creative, fun and inspiring. It gives me the ability to feel free, and honest. The cooking provides awesome relief from my daily anxieties.

Even now that I'm older I feel the same excitement that once I did at young age when my senses catch

the sweet fragrance of my mothers cooking grace. Smell is often strongly associated with memories, but this is only useful if you're describing the smell to yourself. In my memories I smelled the onions, cilantro, and tomatoes the bases for my mother’s cooking and feel the care and love she gave in her makings. What is one’s memories made of? We all have them…some good, some bad and most just somewhere in between. Some of them we just want to erase and forget, but others, those precious, we hold onto for as long as our minds can.

The kinds that remain as real and vivid as the moment it was made and I can see it and feel it when close my eyes again. When the money and the time were right the tamales made the kind of memory that can bring an instant smile to my face. The tradition that she created will always hold a special place in my heart. Tamales had a greater meaning when I was growing up. Cooking tamales was a way of gathering the family together, sharing, communicating and creating something grateful for our hearts and tummies.