Mexican life

Easter tamales

DURING EASTER week, people arrive in our mountaintop town from distant points, places you’d call the boonies.

Many camp in this plaza, which is named San Francisco, for much of the week, and they make tons of tamales. If you walk through here at night, it’s interesting with the fires and smoke.

My child bride and I walked along here today, and I shot this video. It’s not the best video in the world, I admit.

The Easter Bunny doesn’t hop up the mountaintop with colored eggs, but if you want tamales, we got ’em

16 thoughts on “Easter tamales

    1. Carole: Maybe. My sister-in-law claims these people use tap water in the food fixings. Of course, at times my sister-in-law just enjoys speaking badly of others.

      So who knows? They are country people, however, big-time.

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      1. My only response to that would be that we’ve never been taken ill after indulging. Joe had to convince a lady standing by a soup caldron to sell him a bowl. She said, “White people don’t eat it.”

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  1. What, you couldn’t focus in a little bit more on that little hottie on the upper, right-hand corner? Come on, buddy, give a friend a break for once!

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  2. Love the sound of the fireworks going off, and no one flinches! Viva Mexico! Flying down tomorrow to Monarch Mountain for a wedding. Hope to get out to Patzcuaro.

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    1. Hi, Ray. Haven’t heard from you in quite a spell. I wondered if anyone would notice the explosion. There is only one. Just before I started filming the scene there was quite a racket going on. All of which is to say, nothing has changed below the border.

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  3. Those tamales are my downfall. I wait each year for the market to open up. The only bad thing is they have to be consumed the same day. They just don’t have the same taste if you try and reheat them the next day.

    They are my 2nd favorite after uchepos. Both are bad for my diet program, which will have to be on hold for a few days.

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    1. Tancho: So you eat these things and live to tell the story. Good to know. But I’m going to stick to my role as an observer. Most tamales I’ve encountered down here are artery-clogging horrors. I’m not much of a tamal fan to begin with, so avoiding them is easy. The best tamales of my life were made by the wife of a transplanted Mexican who worked on the Houston Chronicle with me for years. Every Christmas he would bring a bunch of his wife’s handiwork into the newsroom. They were absolutely delish. He retired not long after I did and vanished into northern Mexico, taking his wife with him.

      Putting aside the health issue, the few times I’ve eaten tamales — or more accurately, a part of one — down here, they were 99 percent dough, little on the inside. Done on the cheap.

      I don’t care much for uchepos either. They are basically a cylinder of dough that you drown in something or other that, hopefully, has some taste.

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  4. That video makes me nostalgic. I’ll be back SOB in a few weeks, but not in a small town. I have plans to do surrounding areas out of the chaos of Guadalajara as often as I can. That’s the one travesty of staying with relatives, my time is not all mine.

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