Mixing masa with memories

When I was a kid, there was nothing better than my family getting together to make tamales.

I’m no longer a kid, but that sentiment still rings true today.

Christmas tamales are just one of the many traditions my family’s foundation is built on. Whether it’s Sunday dinners or Christmas Eve parties, the Trujillo’s have a long list.

And out of all of them, our yearly get together to make tamales is at the top. Our family is large. Me, my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins all live within a short drive from my grandparents’ home, so this Christmas event is quite the affair.

Grandma and grandpa’s house is Mission Control for tamale making. It’s a quaint model home sitting in a modest suburb next to an elementary school in Ahwatukee. During the holidays, Christmas lights are strewn across the trim of the house and an artificial Christmas tree stands proudly in the TV room for all to see.

We normally start making tamales early, around 9 a.m., but that always meant 10 a.m. GST, or Grandma Standard Time. The minute you arrive, the corn smell from the masa wafts out the front door. And it isn’t long before the sound of the mixer takes over the house.

As you can imagine, with a gathering of more than 12 family members, it gets pretty loud. Whether it’s a debate on whether to use black or green olives or my aunt shouting a reminder about the excessive use of chili, there are plenty of voices filling the air.

Naturally, I take the supervisor/quality control specialist in this operation. Not because I can’t move my hands, but because my palette is too good not to put to work.

Many tamal makers use gloves during this process, but our family chooses to go gloveless. Grandma insists that the juices from our hands add more flavor to the masa. After the masa is made and the chili is set, the mixture is sent through our assembly line of helpers to be wrapped in corn husks and put into a box to be cooked or frozen.

A big part of our yearly tamale tradition is to have some great food for the holidays, but for me, it has always been about so much more.

We aren’t just cooking tamales, we’re spending quality time together as a family. We get to catch up on what’s going on in our lives and share stories. It’s a chance to unwind and learn about our family heritage, and preserve traditions.

I’ll never forget the time when my then 82-year-old grandma was cleaning the corn husks in the sink.

My cousin, Kristina, who was in her early 20s at the time, was leaning over the counter observing intently and listening to her explain how to make tamales. It was then when I realized how important this tradition truly was.

It allows us to connect with our elders and learn more about our past. It brings generations together over a common love.

For now, my grandparents and parents are the keepers of this tradition. But one day, it will be passed on to our generation. And when it does, we will continue it with pride.

Of course, I will continue my position as the quality control specialist for years to come.