40 degrees, rain clouds
The click of keys on a keyboard, the shower running, a solitary bird singing outside
When I lived in California, trips to Baja Mexico weren’t uncommon occurrences. In middle school I enjoyed shockingly inexpensive, fresh plates of lobster in tiny coastal towns, a meal we could never have afforded back in the states. In college, it was a bouquet of mango slices, scented with lime and sprinkled with chili salt. When I was fourteen, I stayed for a week at an orphanage in Tecate. While my friends painted walls and poured concrete in the sun, I found myself in a tiny sweltering kitchen, helping two women make tamales. Over twenty years have passed now and the details are obscured with time, blurry at best. I wish I had taken notes, jotting down every ingredient and technique, memorizing every move these women made as they moved about the kitchen with fluidity and complete confidence. Not having a record of this day is one of my great food regrets.
Relatedly: if anyone wants to give me an authentic tamale-making lesson, hit me up. I’m not even kidding.
My readers know that I certainly don’t need it to be Cinco de Mayo to have an excuse to make and appreciate Mexican flavors in my kitchen. The California girl in me is unable to separate Mexican ingredients and techniques from my food story. My appreciation for them runs deep.They are an important part of who I am and who I’ve become, woven into the fabric of my food in ways even I don’t fully realize. But, I refuse to disgrace the memory of those tamales in Tecate by even attempting to make some now. What I can offer you is a less-intimidating and inauthentic chicken tamale pie. Yes, I said inauthentic. But did I also say delicious?
I started with a layer of my cheddar green chile cornbread in the bottom of a cast iron skillet, then poked it with holes as if I was making a poke cake. Then, I made my homemade red enchilada sauce (you could also use the chipotle enchilada sauce from The Alaska from Scratch Cookbook, as I did, or canned), stirred in some shredded rotisserie chicken and pinto beans, and spooned that generously on top of the cornbread. I finished it all with cheese and sent it back to the oven until it was all melted and bubbly. I topped it with sour cream and avocados. While this is not a plate of authentic tamales, it definitely hit the spot and brought back some great memories, too.