Illustrations by Jennifer Dahbura
I am 30, and there have only been two holidays in my entire life I have not eaten these warm pouches of goodness: once during a stint when I was living in Nashville, and once when my mom really didn’t make tamales.
Everyone remembers that Christmas in 2018. My mom was working a lot, and she just didn’t have enough time or help to make 100 tamales. My cousin ordered some that year, and we were polite about how they tasted, but it was enough for my mom to never allow it to happen again.
This year, I am away from my home base once again. I moved my little family of four from palm tree-lined Los Angeles to the suburbs of Northern Virginia, where we live the quintessential all-American life.
Given the change, I started to think about all the things I would miss back home as we approach the holidays. My mom was visibly upset when I told her we’d be going to Ohio for Christmas this year, where my husband is from. But let’s be honest. She wasn’t upset because I wouldn’t be there. She was upset that Sofía, my daughter, wouldn’t be there.
My daughter turned 2 in the spring, so she’s at the age where she gets excited to participate in new things and is starting to learn about holidays. This is why, I think, my mom was holding back tears during that video call. She knew she wouldn’t be able to teach Sofía the traditions she so fondly instilled in me. From the tamales to the music to the nights of celebration leading up to Christmas, there’s so much to learn.
For the sake of quenching my home sickness and to teach these traditions to Sofía, I’ve created a road map for a feliz Navidad.
Tamales de rajas
Mexican Americans consume an unspeakable amount of tamales during the holidays, and it’s no wonder why. These steamy, soft pockets of sabor a casa make you feel loved and nurtured by mamá. “Panza llena, corazón contento” — “Full belly, happy heart” — is what my mom used to say. And this is exactly how a tamale makes you feel.
My mom usually makes one meat tamale, one sweet one and our absolute favorite: rajas con queso. This unpretentious tamale is quite simple: sliced jalapeño peppers with a thick strip of queso fresco. There’s something about the queso fresco that gives it that bite and saltiness needed in a blanket of masa.
The one year my mom didn’t make tamales, it was because she didn’t have her army of tamale assemblers. To start, my mom usually prepares the filling herself and I assist by slicing the cheese, cutting the jalapeño peppers and shredding the chicken (for pollo en salsa verde). Then one brave soul volunteers to prepare the masa by kneading it for 30 minutes.
My mom has a superstition that the same person has to knead and fold the masa the whole way through, or the tamales will burn.
“You have to do it hasta que chifle,” my mom would say. You have to knead the masa until so many pockets of air have been massaged into it that it makes a whistling sound. Only then can you proclaim the kneading a success and the line of tamale makers can assemble.
All of my nieces and nephews usually gather around the kitchen table and pick a job: the corn husk curator, the masa spreader, the cheese person, the jalapeño person, the tamal wrapper and the person who organizes the tamales in the stockpot.
Then there’s a symphony of working hands dripping masa and the loud chuckles of my nephews as my mom edits their messy but endearing tamale work. It’s a gratifying moment when the matriarch of the family teaches the youngest her finest craft. Here’s my mother’s prized recipe; this one makes 10 tamales.
Masa
Ingredients
3 cups Maseca tamale flour
½ tablespoon salt
½ tablespoon baking powder
2 cups chicken or beef broth
5 tablespoons lard or vegetable shortening
Directions
1. Combine dry ingredients in a mixing bowl.
2. Slowly start mixing in chicken broth in half-cup increments and alternating with lard or vegetable shortening until completely mixed.
3. Keep mixing and kneading for about 10 minutes and completely smooth. Add salt as needed.
Tamales
Ingredients
2.5 pounds prepared salty masa for tamales
4 jalapeños
1 pound Mexican queso Fresco
1 bundle corn husks
2 green tomato skins
1 cup water
Directions
1. Mix the masa well until it is soft and it has enough air bubbles that it makes a whistling sound.
2. Place the corn husks in a large bowl with water so they soften. Remove from water once soft.
3. Rinse and boil the green tomato skins in 1 cup of water until soft.
4. Add ¼ of tomato skin water into the masa and mix for about five minutes until thoroughly mixed in.
5. Slice jalapeño peppers and queso fresco into strips.
6. Time to assemble: Lay a large corn husk in the palm of your hand and spread a spoonful of the masa in the center of the corn husk. Add cheese and jalapeño strips to the center, then fold left side of husk, then right, and lift bottom flap of husk.
7. Add water to the bottom of a steaming pot and arrange the assembled tamales in a standing position. When filled, place a kitchen towel over the tamales in the pot to trap steam. Cover and set on the stove at high heat.
8. Tip: Place a penny at the bottom of the pot. If you hear the penny start to jingle around at any point, it means there is no more water in the pot and its time to add more that the tamales don’t burn.
9. Once water is boiling, turn down to medium heat. Cook for 1.5 hours, or until masa is firm. If the masa is sticking to the husk still, they are not ready.
Ponche Navideño
Ponche Navideño is a punch so sweet, so aromatic, and so warm and fuzzy, you’ll think you’re sitting in a holiday movie laughing it up around a cozy fire.
I first made this myself during my aforementioned stint in Nashville in 2016. It was my first Christmas away, and I was determined to make it feel like home. I didn’t make tamales that year (instead, I found the most authentic ones I could find), but I did commit to making one thing from home, and that was Ponche Navideño.
After asking around for recommended Latino markets, I found a tiny shop that had everything the store by my mom’s house had. That year we had also planned to spend Christmas with my in-laws in the Midwest, so I bought and packed up all the ingredients and went on our merry way to small-town Ohio.
There may be a lot of ingredients in this drink, but they each play a vital role. And many adults spike the punch, but you can make a zero-proof batch so people of all ages can enjoy.
Ingredients
3 liters of water
4-8 sticks of sugar cane
2 cinnamon sticks
½ pound of Tejocote fruit (jarred is fine)
½ pound guavas
1 small apple cubed
½ pound whole-peeled tamarindos
1 piloncillo cones (Mexican raw cane sugar, often sold in cone shape)
Directions
1. Boil water in a large pot with cinnamon and piloncillo.
2. Add fruit, sugar cane and tamarindo to the pot when the piloncillo is dissolved.
3. Boil fruit until soft. Add sugar as needed.
Voy camino de Belén
After you’ve had your tamale and your warm, cinnamon-y cup of goodness, you’re ready to clear the table and put on some music.
There is one song that sticks out among the rest for being the most catchy, high-pitched and memorable: “Burrito Sabanero.” It transcends time and Latin countries. It’s a song that many Latino children know but don’t know who it’s by. They just know that the abuela constantly sang it to them until you couldn’t help but clap to the beat.
“Burrito Sabanero” is actually a Venezuelan song, and its official name is “El Burrito de Belén,” even though everyone calls it “Burrito Sabanero.” It was originally composed by Venezuelan Hugo Blanco in the 1970s for a Christmas album by the producers of Topo Gigio, a kids’ show about a puppet mouse. After a disappointing first release, producers rerecorded the song with 8-year-old Ricardo Cuenci, whose high-pitched voice and “si me ven, si me ven” lyric make this song unforgettable.
I’ll be honest: This song used to irk me as a kid. It’s so upbeat, so high-pitched, so embarrassing when my immigrant parents would try to get me to dance to it in front of my cousins. And yet, I can’t imagine my childhood without it. And you bet I’ll be playing it for Sofía every year.
Here are other classic songs that you can dance to with your Christmas punch:
Posadas and champurrado
In the week leading up to Christmas, my tios and tías (uncles and aunts) host gatherings where we remember the Virgin Mary and Joseph’s journey through Bethlehem knocking door-to-door asking for shelter — a tradition called pidiendo posada.
Here’s how a posada is celebrated in my family: Family members begin to arrive to the host’s house, but you stay outside and begin distributing candles, song booklets and choose who will dress up as Mary, Joseph, the angels and the shepherds.
Once everyone is dressed, we begin walking down the street. A large candlelit group walks and sings down the street, led by the angels, protecting Mary and Joseph, and the shepherds following in the back. They circle the block while singing until they land back at the host’s doorstep, followed by a song that tells the story of one person who finally grants Mary and Joseph lodging and welcomes us all in.
The entire group squeezes into house, and we continue to tell the story of the journey in the form of song, prayer and thanks. After about an hour of telling the story, we convene with one last prayer and one tía will get the party started with a jingle that hearkens to posada piñatas, which always have peanut inside.
Then, we all get up from the floor, find an actual seat, and grub on some food and drink champurrado, a Mexican hot chocolate made from masa. Every tía has established some kind of meal they’re known for at their posada. Tía Chela always has the best nachos. Another tía serves tortas. And when my mom hosts, she always makes posole.
It’s a blissful night of hanging out with the family and eating comforting food. We end the night by breaking a piñata and going home pretty late, but with a full belly and happy heart. And we repeat the whole night over and over from Dec. 16 to 24, leading up to Jesus’s birth.
I have never met another family who does this, even in a mostly Latino Los Angeles. I’ve had some of my non-Latino friends partake in the tradition, and they’re intrigued by this religious novelty.
Sofía won’t walk down Tía Chela’s street dressed up as an angel, but I can re-create some of these experiences so she doesn’t skip a beat when we go to my mom’s house next Christmas. But I don’t want to skip a beat either — I also want to be transported to my childhood this year.
