Melissa Santos stood at the entrance of the El Paso Times newspaper, a bag brimming with two dozen tamales in hand. A recent article had deemed them the “best tamales in town,” an accolade of particular significance during the cherished Christmas tradition of tamale-making and indulgence in the Borderland region. Santos exuded confidence, knowing that the tamales crafted by her family’s independent grocery, Food City, deserved a spot on that esteemed list, even if they had been overlooked.
With a smile, she shared the remarkable demand for their tamales, revealing how they sell out within a mere two hours each morning, only to be replenished by the next batch. In the Texas Borderland culture intricately woven with Mexican traditions, the tamale tradition gains momentum with the onset of cold weather and reaches its zenith during the holiday celebrations, affectionately known as “Guadalupe-Reyes.” This period spans from December 12, the day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, to January 6, the day of Los Reyes Magos, or Three Kings Day.
The setting is a Food City store nestled in an aging strip mall, where signs at cashier stalls sternly remind shoppers of a “limit of two dozen tamales per household” until Christmas Eve. Yet, Santos acknowledged with a hint of amusement that customers routinely flout this rule, bringing family members to buy two dozen each. The store, having ceased taking special orders years ago, grapples with the challenge of gauging the true demand for their tamales. In December alone, Food City produces and sells a staggering 36,000 tamales.
Contrary to what one might expect, it’s not a closely guarded family recipe that keeps customers flocking to Food City. Instead, the origins of their prized tamales trace back to Catholic nuns from Mexico, members of the Dominican order, who, over four decades ago, sought to raise funds for the construction of their convent. In an unexpected turn of events, their collaboration with the Texas butcher who founded Food City not only helped the nuns but also rescued the butcher’s struggling business. Maria de la Salud Garcia Fuerte, now 70, shared this intriguing tale from her convent in Tampico, Mexico.
The collective craving for tamales during the holiday season is a shared experience among many families in El Paso. They come together, dedicating hours to the meticulous preparation of tamales for Christmas Eve. The labor-intensive process involves hand-mixing corn masa with pork lard, preparing flavorful fillings, soaking corn husks, and assembling each tamale like a carefully wrapped gift. The tamales are then arranged in a large pot, forming concentric circles, for the final step of steam-cooking.
In El Paso, the favored tamale flavors remain relatively consistent: pork with red chile, chicken with green chile, cheese with green chile slices, and occasionally, sweet tamales adorned with raisins.
As the first chill in the air signals the arrival of winter, a shared yearning for tamales sweeps through the desert landscape, prompting El Pasoans to visit their preferred bakeries or groceries to secure dozens of these cherished treats.
In essence, the story of El Paso’s tamales is not merely about a beloved culinary tradition; it’s a narrative woven with cultural richness, family legacies, and unexpected connections that transcend generations. The bustling aisles of Food City and the heartwarming gatherings of families in El Paso are testaments to the enduring significance of this cherished holiday tradition.