When we arrived, we were greeted by the heavy aroma of highly spiced meat which was boiling in my sister-in-law’s (Elvia Flores of Garland) kitchen. As we exchanged greetings and removed our jackets, all I could think about was that wonderful smell that permeated the house.  For me, this is the essence of Holiday traditions.              

      The day after Thanksgiving.  We spent the morning and our carefully saved Christmas dollars hitting the ‘door-buster sales’ and enriching the economy on Black Friday.  Up since 4 a.m., we all finished our first round of Holiday shopping by noon, and came from different parts of the metroplex, and as far away as Atlanta to participate in this age-old tradition.  Thanksgiving is over, so… it’s Christmas time. While we were shopping, my brother-in-law Manuel Flores,  made a trip to the local FIESTA to pick up supplies for the event.  Earlier in the week, my husband Mario donated the hind quarter of a wild hog from a recent hunting trip, which was the "aromatic meat" we were now sensing.  The strong scent continued to fill the room, my nose and my thoughts.               

       We’re making tamales, and no female in this family over the age of seven is allowed to “just watch.”  I found myself in the kitchen, looking at everything that was set out, donning an apron along with my sister-in-law Becky, my niece Norma and my 14-year-old daughter, Elvia.  The work had begun.             

      Tamales are one of the traditional foods associated with the Christmas Season in the Mexican culture.  In my husband’s family, a girl (or woman, if she marries-into the family) is expected to learn the art of making Tamales.  A child is brought in as soon as her attention span is long enough to ‘get a glimpse.’ Otherwise, (as in my case) it’s ‘baptism by fire’ and the first time you are in the area when this annual event takes place, you are brought into the kitchen for the day-long process.  Mind you, it doesn’t matter if you like tamales or not, our family’s matriarch (Elvia Flores) has a way of “getting you there,” when the ritual begins.             

     There was a large plastic tub on the table that contained  pork lard.  My sister-in-law (Elvia Flores) unwrapped 30 pounds of fresh corn flour which would be mixed with the lard.  My niece then added piping hot broth and we then began to hand mix the “masa.”  My daughter and I winced as our hands felt the first bit of grease and corn flour mix with the hot liquid.  My daughter giggled as we started kneading the dough.              

      Meanwhile, my sister-in-law prepared the dried corn husks by soaking them in water.  After setting them to soak, she moved over and stirred and tasted the meat, added some salt and moved back to where my daughter and I were working the hot broth, corn flour and lard into a  thick paste.  My sister-in-law, Elvia checked on our progress, smiled and went to her cabinet for large containers of red chili powder and paprika.  With the addition of the peppers, the tawny colored paste began to take on a pinkish-red hue.  Her more experienced hands dived in, she took a cup of hot water, rolled a small piece of the masa into a ball and dropped it into the water and when it floated, the ‘masa’ was ready.  She took a couple of kitchen towels and ran them under hot water in the kitchen sink.  She rung them out and opened them up placing them over the masa in the plastic tub.  She said the “masa had to rest.”  At this point, everyone took a break; the girls washed their hands and sat down at the table.          

     Finally, it was time to put the tamales together.  My sister-in-law pulled some of the corn husks out of the water, and placed them on paper towels.  Each of us took a corn husk in our left hand.  We placed a spoonful of the ‘masa’ on the corn husk and using the back or rounded part of the spoon, spread the corn flour mixture over the shuck. We stacked the masa-covered husks down flat, one on top of the other.  Elvia headed to the stove to give the meat one last stir.  She told most of us to continue and she took the already prepared shucks to a card table set up for the occasion, by the stove.  She enlisted the services of her daughter for the next step in the process.               

     Carefully, my niece took a large spoon and began putting a row of meat down the middle of the masa-covered husk.  She doubled the sides one over the other, wrapping the meat in the masa.   Then she folded the longer part of the husk down, giving the tamale it’s rounded-end shape.  She did this over and over setting the tamales in a special stacking order in a large boiling pot for making tamales.  When the pot was full, she added water and set the pot to boil.  The process continued all afternoon, until all of the masa and meat were used, and all of the tamales were assembled and either steam cooked or separated into dozen batches for freezing.                 

     I have eaten tamales all of my life, but until I participated in this ritual for the first time several years ago, I had no idea the ‘labor of love’ that went in to making them!                      

     When the day came to an end, and the tamales were made, we ‘test-tasted’ the tamales and did something a little more “American”…my sister-in-law Becky made strawberry margaritas ( a virgin drink for my 14-year-old…) and we all sat down and relaxed!             

     Somehow, we didn’t eat the tamales as quickly as you might think!  Something about being up to your elbows in pig fat (or it could possibly be that we’d been up since before the crack of dawn…) that takes away your appetite!  For me though, it is a rite of passage.  When I joined this family, on “tamale making day,” I was inducted into the world of women and culture and family tradition.             

     I make the annual trip to my sister-in-law’s house every year at this time, to make tamales.  The smells are strong, the kitchen is hot and steamy, and the grease makes my hands supple and smooth for days.             

The Christmas Season wouldn’t be the same without it.  I wouldn’t miss it for the world!