Friday mornings when I see the tamale lady at the carwash on 6th Ave. and Watts, as Whitney says, I get so emotional. My excitement rises with the steam coming from the oversized cooler of pork, chicken and sweet tamales. I haven’t tried the sweet ones yet because I love me some meat in the morning. As she wraps my tamales in paper towels, I feel joy that I don’t have to eat another dry bagel on the craft services table at work. All week I look forward to slipping off those moist cornhusk wrappers to get to that soft corn meal and succulent flesh inside. Is this post is getting a little pervy?
I like to treat myself to a cup of her arroz con leche. After four days of brown water with skim, I mix the sweet cinnamon milk with the office coffee and it turns into the best café latté without all that pesky foam. The rice in the drink turns a pretty shade of mahogany that I’ll eat for a snack later if I feel like it, or not. I figure it only cost a buck and I get two cups of coffee from it, so I don’t feel too guilty tossing it.
I marvel that the tamale lady only charges a buck for these babies. I wish I spoke Spanish, so I could ask her,"How many of these little gifts do you make?". I hope it’s profitable. I hope she hasn’t been ticketed by the police. It’s well documented that they ticket for nonsense violations as well as lack of licenses. It sucks for an individual who just wants to make some pocket money and to serve an underserved community. Notice I won’t tell you what time she deals these treats unless you email me and there’s no photo of her sweet face. I don’t want to get her in trouble if she’s undocumented as a legal vendor.
2 comments:
Is the tamale woman there everyday? I have to try her. I heart tamales as you know.
Unfortunately, friend, tha tamale lady only hits the west/south soho area on Fridays. But they are all overs. The production secretary at work, Kirsten, lives in Spanish Harlem and she gets them while waiting for the bus. Firecracker Carissa eats them before her day at the Garden Center in Chelsea. There's a nice couple that sells them outside of the Chelsea Flea Market Garage on Saturday mornings and one time I got one from a lady at the Flea Market on Ave. A.
I actually had a tasty $1.50 tamale in W'burg at Matmoros (193 Bedford) while waiting to sell a stupid coat at an annoying thrift store on Saturday that I didn't tell you about because I didn't want you to think I was a pig. I realize that you already know that as a matter of fat, I am!
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