The Day Tamales Were More Than Just Food
             On a morning that I will always remember was a day that was cool, windy and quiet. My grandmother, Nanie, and I were sitting on the front porch of her home in California. I was only 14 years old at this time. She told me that I was going to help her make an authentic Mexican dish. This tradition taught to her from her mother. I was so ecstatic, rapturous and overjoyed. We were going to make tamales.
             She set me down explained this is a tradition carried down from generation to generation. She said making a great meal for the family was a way to express how you feel and how much your family means to you. You make it with love, compassion, thoughtfulness but most of all patience and the family will enjoy them dearly. Tamales are one of the hardest and more complicated traditions to keep up she said. It takes time and preparation while exerting your energy into having a good memory.
             She handed me a tremendous mixing bowl full of masa (dough) and placed my hands in it. She had me needing la masa with salt and lard until it stuck completely between my fingers. As I glanced over to her she looked so unostentatious. Nanie wore a bandanna, an apron, and chanclas (sandals) while drying off the corn husks that had soaked in water overnight. Washing my hands I can smell the carne (meat) cooking. It was an amazing, extraordinary, luscious smell that filled the house with a righteous aroma. I had to use a spice grinder for the garlic cloves and cumin seeds. Doing this by hand was very rewarding. I started cutting the onions, I could not see my eyes were tearing up, nose was running, so she placed a knife through my lips and placed an onion on the top of my head. We laughed, sang songs in Spanish and she reminisced with me about her past. She started cutting the meat into little strands and then added the ingredients to the masa. She smiled and handed me a spoon, usted esta li...