I am determined to make my own fresh masa and for months now have been trying to arrange for a local building superintendent’s sister-in-law to give a lesson.  I had organized a small group of avid cooks to chip in a good amount of cash to lure her into my kitchen, but, so far, other obligations keep getting in the way.  So, in the meantime, I have been trying to catch the tamale lady.  My friend Deena had tracked her down in the neighborhood and very kindly shared her purchases with us which only got my mojo working, I had to find her and get her schedule.

Well, lucky me, on an unseasonably warm Saturday morning in January who should I run into but “the tamale lady” right around the corner from our apartment.  Her husband was standing guard (perhaps keeping an eye out for the police as I don’t think she has a vendor license) over their two big shopping carts – one filled with insulated picnic-style carry-alls filled with still warm tamales and the other with shopping bags, aluminum foil, paper plates and plastic utensils and, for all I know, more tamales packed away in the bottom.  I almost lost my cool – I only had $5 in my pocket and didn’t know whether to ask her to stay while I ran to the bank or just take what I could get for my money.  Turns out at $1.25 each I had enough to buy dinner.  Oh, my gosh —– they didn’t wait for dinner – I had polished off one by the time I got home and Steve got one just to keep me from immediately eating another.   They were perfect – not fresh masa – but as I emailed Deena – just the right amount of spicy chicken and grease to make them beyond finger-lickin’ good.  The tamale lady didn’t seem to speak English, but her “Papi” was a terrific salesman.  When I told him I loved pork, he said next week.  I’ll keep you posted if next week comes.