I wrote this piece awhile back for John T. Edge's food writing course at The University of Mississippi. I miss the small things about Mississippi, including Hot Tamales. Can you believe that all along the Delta you can find fresh and homemade Hot Tamales in the most southern place on earth? Amy Evans says in an interesting article that, "Many hypothesize that tamales made their way to the Mississippi Delta in the early twentieth century when migrant laborers were brought in from Mexico to work the cotton harvest. The basic tamale ingredients - corn meal and pork - were easily recognized by the African Americans who shared the fields."
Also follow the SFA Hot Tamale Trail. An Oral History Project by Amy Evans. Click here for a good Recipe.
Just Knock For Some Hot Tamales
By: Sally Summerson
Julio’s trailer smells like pork marinating in spices and salsa. My nose itches; my eyes water. The two-year-old girl is licking her sticky red fingers with pure delight. I want to stick my fingers in the bowl, too.
The cornhusks soak in water on the edge of the table. A large pot of Masa heats up on the stove. Julio tells me his recipe came from his wife’s grandmother back in Mexico. His wife, whose name I never learn, points to the three huge bowls of potatoes, bell peppers and jalapeño peppers on the table, and tells me the names in Spanish. She then shares the recipe with me rapidly saying the ingredients. I only can understand the words garlic, cumin and pepper.
We spend the entire evening making tamales. Julio and I communicate by speaking both in Spanish and English. His older daughter translates. Julio tells me that both of his parents are butchers in Mexico and he grew up in a small town near Guanajauto, which is located in the center of Mexico. Julio and his family came to the United States three years ago, when he followed his older brother to Mississippi in search for better pay and working conditions.
He is now the butcher at Pancetta Ranch, also known as Stan’s Country Store. The store, blazoned with a painted pig, sits on Highway 6 about twenty miles outside of Oxford. A few steps behind the building, Julio and his family live in a white trailer. The trailer, which is peeling and surrounded by an old sofa and rusty toys, is not convivial. But inside, I am greeted with smiles and hugs. Julio’s family is eager to teach me about how to make tamales.
In the backroom a headless hog is stretched on the butcher’s table. Three other hogs hang in the refrigerator. On Wednesdays, He starts at seven in the morning and cuts up six or seven carcasses. It takes him about fifteen minutes to cut up one hog. He grabs a small handsaw and cuts off the ham and shoulders. He tells me that is were he gets his meat for his tamales. He says he likes the ham, which is the back part of the pig’s body including the back legs, best in his tamales.
Julio takes apart the hog, separating all the fat and packaging the meat in Styrofoam trays. Each piece of fat is thrown into a big bin, which he will use to make sausage later. He uses a large stainless steel meat cutting bandsaw to separate the pork chops and ribs. Butcher stops are now a scarcity throughout the U.S. Julio hand cuts and processes all of his meat giving his customers fresh well-cut meat and keeping the tradition alive.
Three months ago, Julio decided to make hot tamales on the side to earn money and to share his cooking with his neighbors and patrons. Each Friday morning, Julio’s wife prepares the ingredients to fill the cornhusk. She uses an old wooden device, looks like a large flower press, one that she brought from Mexico. She rolls the masa in a ball and mashes the corn mixture into the husk. Then she passes the husk to Julio to fill with meat and vegetables. Julio rolls the tamales and folds them in a way that keeps the tamales closed. He ties the hotter tamales with a piece of husk (like string) to identify them. In a big pot he can steam around 100 tamales at a time for up to eight hours.
Softly Julio’s wife begins to sing in Spanish to her daughter. The girl’s tiny hands keep exploring the mounds of food on the table. Her older daughter, about 12, tells me they are not allowed to help; however, one day she hopes to learn. The television blares a Spanish children’s program in the next room.
The kitchen is the center of the trailer, where the whole family gathers to cook and eat. Pictures and paintings hang on the walls reminding them of their family back in Mexico. Julio’s wife spends most of her time in the trailer and does not care to learn English. Their refrigerator contains only cheese, milk and meat. The trailer resembles nothing of America. Even the Lace drapes that hang on the windows were brought from Mexico.
Julio’s wife motions for me to make some tamales and guides my hands on the wooden device. I press too hard causing the masa to go everywhere. She smiles and places my hands back on the wood.
Tamale making is harder than it looks. On my next attempt I am successful and I hand the husk to Julio. I never mastered folding the tamales- most of them seem to fall apart. Tucking them under did not work and the tamales would unwrap, leaving the meat to exposed in the open air. I watch Julio carefully wrap the meat and vegetable filled husk and place it in the pile of finished tamales.“Watch! Watch,” Julio says to me as he motions me to the stove. His wife smiles and points to the pot. Their faces fill with happiness and pride as the tamales steam over the stove.
Since Julio started making tamales members of the community stop by Stan’s Country Store every Saturday to buy them. Julio either leaves the tamales in the white cooler in the front of the store or sells them from his trailer. Other times Julio loads his truck with tamales and drives around Panola County, to bring his tamales to the Mexican population. This past Saturday, Julio went to Como to perform in his band and did not make any tamales. Along with being a good cook, he writes his own music and plays in small towns around Mississippi with his fellow Mexican friends.
“The tamales sell fast,” Julio says. He proudly stuffs pork into the husk and wraps it in a special motion. “Mainly local Mexican’s buy my tamales. Some white locals know about them though.”
“Got any hot tamales today?” a hungry local asks the woman at the cash register. “Sitting right there in the cooler- almost sold out they went quick today,” she responds. “Julio is not here today,” she tells the customer as he reaches for a ten-dollar bundle of hot tamales wrapped in foil. “Tell Julio I came knocking. I will be back next week,” says the customer.
I went crabbing on Figure 8 Island with all the girls for Muffy's Bachelorette Weekend!! If you have never been crabbing- you should do it the next time you are at the beach. It was so much fun! All you need is raw chicken necks, a net and some string! We caught Blue Crabs and then ate them for lunch. They were so delicious and fresh. It is a lot like fishing- we had to be quiet and wait for them to nibble on the chicken. You have to be really fast with the net and scoop them up! 
