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orginllazyblog · 5 months

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Christmas w/ Ramshackle

Characters: GN Yueme (yuusona), Grim, Mizuki, trio ghosts

Context: Second year semester, Mizuki brought ingredients to make one of Yueme's food back home. They ended up making 50,000 tamales, so they ended up sharing with the others.

Warning: Strict culinary judgment

Also, Happy Early Christmas 🎄

It's that time of year, Christmas is around the corner. The first winter, Yueme and Grim arrived at NRC. They couldn't forget the things they had to fend for self-defense, but with Mizuki along, everything was going to be fine. For once, they were able to have a nice family dinner.

As the morning rises, the heart and spade go to visit their friend as they stop on their track.

A unknown delicious smell

Ace and Deuce arrived at the Ramshackle dorm, the smell getting strong as they knocked on the door, greeted by Grim.

"What do you guys want?" (Grim)

"We came to visit Yuu." (Deuce)

"Say Grim, what is that smell? It's strong, and it smells good. Is Yueme and their friend making something?" (Ace)

"Henchman says they are making something for dinner." (Grim)

"Eh?" (Adeuce)

"I little help here!" (GN Yueme)

"Here you go, Yueme." (Mizuki)

Yep, it was indeed busy as there were a lot of ingredients at the table counter and 10 big pots at the stove counter. The trio ghosts also help as they put the "dough" on the "giant leaf" and then the seasoning chicken, but they couldn't help out as the kitchen was too warm for them. To Ace and Deuce, they have no idea what they were making, but they could tell their friend was in a happy mood as they were finishing with the last batch.

"Aannd~ That should be the last one." As Yueme put the last one inside the big pot.

"Yueme, what is it your making?" (Ace)

"Oh! It's something that I used to eat back to my original world. It's called tamales, a mesoamerican tradition dish. The masa is a dough made of nixtamelized corn, steam with corn husk/banana leaves, either red or green salsa, and for the meat, it can be either chicken or pork." (GN Yueme)

"Wow! Hearing it just makes my mouth water." (Ace)

"By the way, Yueme. Are you and the rest going to finish "all" of that?" (Deuce)

"I might have got a lot of ingredients, but it was worth it. Yueme, we might have to share it with the others as this could be added to the cafeteria menu." (Mizuki)

"Hmm..yes. I don't want to waste all of it. Mizuki, see if we have a wagon to carry out to the Hall of Mirrors." (GN Yueme)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Heartslybul 🌹❤️♠️♦️♣️

Riddle:

4/10 (ate the red tamale)

One bite, and it was too spicy

He doesn't hate it, tho

Chug a whole cup of water

☃️☃️☃️

Ace:

6/10 (ate the green tamale)

Can handle spicy, but not for long

He ended up liking it 👍🏼

Perfers the red salsa tamale

☃️☃️☃️

Deuce:

7/10 (ate the red tamale)

He absolutely loves it as his tamale had chicken

Would recommend adding it to the cafeteria menu ✅️

Would also ask Yueme for an extra one for his mom

Or at least, share the recipe to recreate at home

☃️☃️☃️

Cater:

10/10 (ate both tamales)

He first ate the red salsa to which he craved for another

Couldn't decide which flavor of tamale was his favorite

Might of ate the other's tamales to those who got spice out

Desperately pleading for the tamales to be added on the cafeteria menu

☃️☃️☃️

Trey:

7/10 (tried both flavors)

Would also ask Yueme for the recipe

Not because he wants to make it for a certain guy 😏

As well for making it for the other heartslybul students who weren't spiced out

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Savanaclaw 🐾🦁🌼

Leona:

6/10 (ate the green tanale)

Tried spicy foods before, maybe even picky

Tho it wasn't bad, so he tried the red salsa tamale

Either way, he likes it because of the meat

☃️☃️☃️

Ruggie:

8/10 (ate both tamales)

"Food is food" finish his first one, then ate his second one

Was in food heaven as he was eating the others tamales

Join with the others for the tamales to be added to the cafeteria menu

☃️☃️☃️

Jack:

7/10 (ate green tamale)

Probably ate some spicy food before

Even secretly eating another one

In the end, he would like to eat one next winter

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Octavanille 🐙🦈🍄

Azul:

3/10 (tried the green tamale)

Weak against spice

Also, chug a whole cup of water

Maybe blackmail asked yueme if they could make more at the Monstro Lounge

☃️☃️☃️

Floyd:

7/10 (ate the red salsa tamale)

At first, he got spice out but gotten used to it

He heard about other students wanting to add tamales to the cafeteria menu, so he joined in

Maybe even threatened the headmage if he didn't allow it

☃️☃️☃️

Jade:

6/10 (tried the green salsa tamale)

Thought that the green salsa would be "less spicy" than the red salsa tamale

Ask Yueme if mushrooms would go well with tamales

"Don't even try." "Oh 😔"

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Scarabia 🦦🐍

Kalim:

10/10 (ate the red and green salsa tamale)

Was happy that it wasn't poison, so he ate as many as he like

His favorite would be the red salsa tamale

Join w/ the others for tamales to be added

☃️☃️☃️

Jamil:

9/10 (ate the red tamale)

Was glad that he wouldn't worry about the food poison as he just wanted to relax for a bit

Tried to hide away the fact that he ate more

"That's okay, Jamil. I know how you feel." "...then could ask for the recipe?"

Both Kalim and Jamil wanted the tamales be added

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Pomefiore💅🏻🍎🏹

Vil:

2/10 (tried the green tamale)

He has never eaten spicy food in his entire life

Got spice out

Doesn't really understand how the others could handle that much spice

"I didn't even add that much spice, Vil." "Then why is it so strong?!"

☃️☃️☃️

Epel:

6/10 (ate the green tamale)

Has eaten some spicy food before

Secretly happy to see Vil got spice out and he wasn't

Ask Yueme for the recipe to make it for his family as his hometown gets harsh winter

☃️☃️☃️

Rook:

6/10 (tried both tamales)

Tried his best to handle the spice

He usually gives 10 10 points, but at least Yueme knows he's honest

"It's okay, Rook. There were other students who couldn't handle the spice."

"Trickster, I would still finish mine to show my appreciation."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Ignihyde 💀🤖

Idia:

2/10 (tried the red tamale)

F to the chat

One bite, and he was spiced out

Yueme thought that Idia once had spicy food, then remembered that Idia only eats light snacks

☃️☃️☃️

Ortho:

Fascinated ✅️ (can't eat solid food)

Took a picture as he can't eat physical food ever since the rabbit festival

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Diasomnia 🐉🐊🦇🦌

Malleus:

8/10 (ate both tamales)

He was excited to try the Child of Man's home food

Since he is a dragon, he ate plenty of tamales

He did get spice out, but he still ate it with dignity

☃️☃️☃️

Lilia:

7/10 (tried both tamales)

Have tried spicy food during his travels

Was about to make dinner if it weren't for Yueme and Mizuki arrival

Ask for the recipe to recreate for the boys

"Oh, I can do the cooking for you, Lilia." "Hehe. That will be wonderful, Yueme."

☃️☃️☃️

Sebek:

7/10 (ate green tamale)

Was happy that they didn't have to eat Lilia's cooking

He probably never ate spices, so he did get spice out easily

Love it as he ate another tamale

☃️☃️☃️

Silver:

6/10 (tried red tamale)

Was also glad that they didn't have to eat Lilia's cooking

Once tried spicy food during his childhood after Lilia's travel

"Thank you, prefect, for the food." "You're welcome. I can share the recipe, too, if you like."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️☃️⛄️🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨☃️⛄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Bonus: Ramshackle 👻

Grim:

10/10 (almost ate the entire pot of tamales)

He didn't get spice out since he did eat Jamil's overblot crystal

Yueme was proud of their son for handling spicy food

"Can I yours, Mizuki?" "Oh he'll nah! You had like six tamales. This one is mine."

Fought Mizuki's tamale, then got scolded by Yueme

"*Sigh* That's the last dorm. Let's head back to Ramshackle before Grim finishes the rest of the tamales."

"Say, Mizuki?"

"Yeah?"

"How come the others got spice so quickly? Because I only added a small amount of it."

"Oh...well I don't know? Perhaps they never try spicy food, like Vil and Riddle."

"...Did you add more spice in the salsa, Mizuki?"

"Mm... perhaps?"

"*Sigh* I'll let this slide. Just don't get caught next time."

"You got it, housewarden."

#twst ramshackle #twst ramshackle found family #twst yuu oc #twst grim #twst mizuki abyss #twst ramshackle ghosts #twisted wonderland x reader #twst stories #twst scenarios

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 18 days

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THE 12 MOST UNFORGETTABLE DESCRIPTIONS OF FOOD IN LITERATURE

Haruki Murakami’s stir fry, Maurice Sendak’s chicken soup with rice—only the most gifted writers have made meals on the page worth remembering.

By Adrienne LaFrance for The Atlantic

In literature, references to eating tend to be either symbolic or utilitarian. Food can indicate status or milieu (think about all those references to Dorsia in American Psycho), or it can move the plot forward (Rabbit Angstrom’s peanut-brittle habit in John Updike’s final Rabbit book). Even in the hands of the greats, food scenes can seem less than central to a story, more filler or filigree than substance. There are exceptions, however—moments in which food unlocks a higher story form. Here are 12 of my favorites.

>>>>>

In addition to having one of the best opening lines of any novel ever, “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle”contains some of the most memorable meals in all of literature. In a novel that is all surreality, darkness, and rabbit holes, Murakami’s simple descriptions of sustenance have an almost metronomic quality—the only thing anchoring the story to reality as it slips away from its main character, Toru—while setting the tempo for a strange, unfolding mystery:

“At noon I had lunch and went to the supermarket. There I bought food for dinner and, from a sale table, bought detergent, tissues, and toilet paper. At home again, I made preparations for dinner and lay down on the sofa with a book, waiting for Kumiko to come home … Not that I had any great feast in mind: I would be stir frying thin slices of beef, onions, green peppers, and bean sprouts with a little salt, pepper, soy sauce, and a splash of beer—a recipe from my single days. The rice was done, the miso soup was warm, and the vegetables were all sliced and arranged in separate piles in a large dish, ready for the wok.”

Such scenes show up repeatedly in Murakami’s work. Every time, the effect is somehow both mouthwatering and unnerving. Note the simplicity of the menu, the methodical preparation, the sense of time and of waiting. Murakami’s descriptions of food do exactly what his novels do best—they take the mundane and make it somehow magical, take the real and warp it into a dream.

“Under the Jaguar Sun,” by Italo Calvino

Calvino’s particular skill is his dreamer’s eye, his ability to make stories of incredible lightness out of a too-complicated world. In “Under the Jaguar Sun,” a collection of three short stories that engage the senses, he describes the act of cooking as “the handing down of an intricate, precise lore.” Each dish can be a kind of story that reflects the person who eats it—one that attaches a meal to the ancestral. (Anyone who has tried to interpret her Italian grandmother’s handwritten recipes will see the humor and the profundity in this kind of bequeathed knowledge.) Calvino writes, too, of food’s unique ability to capture a moment in time. In one scene, he describes a couple sharing a meal in an orange grove in Tepotzotlán, Mexico:

“We had eaten a tamal de elote—a fine semolina of sweet corn, that is, with ground pork and very hot pepper, all steamed in a bit of corn-husk—and then chiles en nogada, which were reddish brown, somewhat wrinkled little peppers, swimming in a walnut sauce whose harshness and bitter aftertaste were downed in a creamy, sweetish surrender.”

With mesmerizing style, Calvino captures the way a perfectly prepared dish can, for an instant, become the very center of the universe, the way a meal between two people can hang suspended in an everlasting present.

“I Remember Nothing: And Other Reflections,” by Nora Ephron

One of the most durable things about Ephron, a decade after her death, is how easily brilliance seemed to come to her. That same sense of ease is apparent in her appetizing description of a ricotta pancake, from the collection “I Remember Nothing.”The recipe materializes unexpectedly at the end of a charming essay about the cultural meaning of Teflon, and it conveys just enough whimsy to inspire the reader to give it a go:

“I loved the no-carb ricotta pancake I invented last year, which can be cooked only on Teflon … Beat one egg, add one-third cup fresh whole-milk ricotta, and whisk together. Heat up a Teflon pan until carcinogenic gas is released into the air. Spoon tablespoons of batter into the frying pan and cook about two minutes on one side, until brown. Carefully flip. Cook for another minute to brown the other side. Eat with jam, if you don’t care about carbs, or just eat unadorned. Serves one.”

A few easy ingredients! A casual flip! Serves one! Ephron delightfully blends creativity and sophistication. Only real grown-ups are out there inventing new kinds of pancakes from things like ricotta, obviously. The truth is (I’m sorry, Nora) that this pancake is not actually very tasty, at least not when I tried making it. But she loved it, and that’s all that matters.

“Chicken Soup With Rice: A Book of Months,” by Maurice Sendak

Please tell me that you know of Sendak’s Nutshell Library, a tiny four-volume set, each roughly the size of a deck of cards, first published in 1962 and made in every way for the eager hands of early childhood. When I was very small, I treated my beloved copy—which remains in arm’s reach on my desk now—with something like religious fascination. Each book is a banquet of mischief and reverie. Picking Pierre as a favorite meal in literature—as you may recall, Pierre, the boy who doesn’t care, is eaten by a lion—would probably be more Sendakian, but to me, nothing can surpass “Chicken Soup With Rice.” This book of simple nursery rhymes takes readers through the months of the year, each one attached to a verse about the pleasures of eating chicken soup with rice in locales across the globe (“far-off Spain,” “old Bombay”) and ever more extreme conditions (the bottom of the ocean, a literal robin’s nest). The singsong, paired with darling illustrations and Sendak’s devil-may-care attitude winking from every page, is forever-enchanting stuff. I couldn’t possibly pick just one, but here’s September:

In September for a while I will ride a crocodile down the chicken soupy Nile. Paddle once paddle twice paddle chicken soup with rice.

“Swann’s Way,” by Marcel Proust

You were expecting this one, I know. The madeleine in “Swann’s Way” is so indelible, that, I will confess, I avoid eating them entirely, because a real madeleine would only ruin my memory of the memory described by Proust. On a winter day, the narrator comes home to his mother, who offers him tea and one of the “short, plump little cakes” called “petites madeleines”:

“Mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory … I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy?

Years after first reading “In Search of Lost Time,” I’m sometimes transported involuntarily to this moment—the minutes slow, my senses heighten, and I feel overwhelmed with gratitude that if you look at it just right, all of life’s pleasures can be found swirling in a cup of tea.

“Revenge of the Lawn,” by Richard Brautigan

“Revenge of the Lawn” contains, quite possibly, the most fully realized post-breakup scene of any collection of words I have ever read. A pot of instant coffee comes to serve both as a pretense for an invitation into a former lover’s apartment and a deathblow—the simultaneous familiarity and discomfort of being around a person you once knew so well. In the scene, Brautigan describes the stretchy quality of time after he persuades his ex to have coffee with him:

“I knew that it would take a year before the water started to boil. It was now October and there was too much water in the pan … I threw half the water into the sink. The water would boil faster now. It would take only six months. The house was quiet. I looked out at the back porch. There were sacks of garbage there. I stared at the garbage and tried to figure out what she had been eating lately by studying the containers and peelings and stuff. I couldn’t tell a thing. It was now March. The water started to boil. I was pleased by this.”

Or, as Brautigan put it elsewhere in the story: “Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee affords.”

“Goodbye, Columbus,” by Philip Roth

Food, like sex, is everywhere in Roth’s work—sometimes inextricably. But let’s put aside the liver in “Portnoy’s Complaint,” the BLT in “American Pastoral,”all that Tiptree strawberry jam. Roth’s descriptions of food aren’t just prurient. They’re also wildly vivid, often preoccupied with class and abundance, and vehicles for the expression of his characters’ desires and resentments. In the novella “Goodbye, Columbus,” the protagonist opens the door of an old-fashioned refrigerator—actually, the second fridge in the home of his affluent summer fling—and discovers that it is overfilled with dripping, fresh, fragrant, expensive fruit:

“Shelves swelled with it, every color, every texture, and hidden within, every kind of pit. There were greengage plums, black plums, red plums, apricots, nectarines, peaches, long horns of grapes, black, yellow, red, and cherries, cherries flowing out of boxes and staining everything scarlet … I grabbed a handful of cherries and then a nectarine, and I bit right down to its pit.”

The bite, after the luxuriant description, is defiant, almost sacrilegious—perhaps his way of crossing an invisible line.

“Harriet the Spy,” by Louise Fitzhugh

No hero in literature is quite like Harriet M. Welsch—daring, terrible, perfect Harriet—who, by the way, took a tomato sandwich to school every day for five years. Fitzhugh’s descriptions of the sandwiches are not themselves memorable. (Each one is the same, after all.) But that simple sameness—not just the meal itself but also Harriet’s total commitment to it—makes these tomato sandwiches unforgettable. Harriet, while spying one day, encounters Little Joe Curry, the delivery boy for an Upper East Side bodega:

“Harriet peeked in. He was sitting there now, when he should have been working, eating a pound of cheese. Next to him, waiting to be consumed, sat two cucumbers, three tomatoes, a loaf of bread, a custard pie, three quarts of milk, a meatball sandwich about two feet long, two jars—one of pickles, one of mayonnaise—four apples, and a large salami. Harriet’s eyes widened and she wrote: ‘When I look at him I could eat a thousand tomato sandwiches.’” Or, as she puts it elsewhere, charmingly and succinctly: “There is nothing like a good tomato sandwich now and then.”

“Sentimental Education,” by Gustave Flaubert

Flaubert set out, he once said, to tell the moral history of the men of his generation. Across his work, food plays a prominent role in how some of his characters are condemned. The decadence of 1840s Paris is bewildering to Frédéric Moreau, the central character of “Sentimental Education.”

At one dinner party—held in a giant room “hung with red damask, [and] lit by a chandelier and candelabra”—overindulgent guests are served champagne-drenched sturgeon’s head, roast quail, a vol-au-vent béchamel, red-legged partridges, and potatoes mixed with truffles. In another memorable party scene, several bottles of champagne are opened at once, and “long jets of wine spurted through the air … each opened a bottle and were splashing the company’s faces” while tiny birds flapped in through the open door of an aviary—some of them settling in women’s hair “like great flowers.”

It’s no mistake that in the scenes where Moreau escapes Parisian society, such moments of culinary opulence and excess are conspicuously absent.

“After the Plague,” by T. C. Boyle

In the title story of Boyle’s story collection, the pandemic that rips across the planet is different from our own. Most of the world’s population is killed quickly and gruesomely, and the main character, Francis, is among a small number of the living who roam the overgrown wilds of Santa Barbara. At one point, Francis meets a woman, a fellow survivor, and they begin dating, helping themselves to the spoils of a civilization now abandoned:

I picked her up two nights later in a Rolls Silver Cloud and took her to my favorite French restaurant. The place was untouched and pristine, with a sweeping view of the sea, and I lit some candles and poured us each a glass of twenty-year-old Bordeaux, after which we feasted on canned crab, truffles, cashews and marinated artichoke hearts.

Boyle describes the magnetism of new romance with dystopian, aching imagination and humor—reminding us that humanity’s core impulse is toward survival and connection, no matter what hell our species endures.

Pachinko,by Min Jin Lee

In Pachinko, Lee’s gorgeous and epic tale of a family’s life in 20th-century Korea and Japan, food is a marker of passing time, of scarcity, of necessity, and of nature. Consider the soft blanket of mushrooms in the forest where Sunja steals away with the first man she falls in love with. Or the care and worry attached to her unlikely wedding: the thoughtfully procured rice, the strips of seaweed folded like fabric, the udon noodles steaming beneath the gaze of two soon-to-be newlyweds, a couple who barely know each other. Lee’s gorgeous descriptions of food demand the reader’s attention—and show us the labor required to transform nature into nourishment. The reader encounters savory pancakes made from bean flour and water, a pail of crabs or mackerel, homemade pumpkin taffy, stewed codfish, a soup kettle “half-filled with water, cut-up potatoes, and onions, waiting to be put on the fire.” No other novel I’ve read recently so effortlessly makes meals appear both meager and luxurious. Much of Pachinko’s power comes from its generational sweep, a story that shows just how long a life can be, and how resilience and sustenance can help us make it through.

The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway

Anyone who has ever tugged on a pair of waders and stood thigh-deep in a cool river on a hot day, casting about for brook trout, then reeling one in, can tell you about the particular satisfaction that comes from catching, cooking, and eventually eating your own dinner. I think this is one of the reasons I can never stop rereading The Sun Also Rises, a book that poses several questions of life-shaping importance, not least of which is: Why aren’t I in Spain right now, trout fishing in the Irati river?

The Sun Also Rises has a quality I’ll never fully understand: It takes place a century ago and somehow feels fresh, still. I’ve found that you can read it at any stage of life and relate to Jake, the American narrator whose travels are fueled by his yearning for an unavailable woman. Another unforgettable scene sees Jake and a friend on a train from Paris to Pamplona, propelled by wanderlust and longing:

“We ate the sandwiches and drank the Chablis and watched the country out of the window. The grain was just beginning to ripen and the fields were full of poppies. The pastureland was green, and there were fine trees, and sometimes big rivers and chateaux off in the trees.”

Riding along with them, we see mortality and rapture commingling, vitally, just the way they do in real life.

(Follies of God)

#reading and writing #the atlantic #food #description #literature #Min Jin Lee #T.C.Boyle #Hemmingway #Louise Fitzhugh #Gustav Flaubert #philip roth #Richard Brautigan #Sendak #haruki murakami #Proust #Calvino #Nora Ephron

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curvycarbivore · 7 months

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Pork Tamales with Jada Brands "Meat" (Vegan)

Yield: 12 servings | Prep time: 1 hour | Cook time: 1 hour 15 min | Total time: 3 hours

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Let me start off my saying that I am from an Italian background and do not have much experience cooking Mexican food, though it's one of my favorite cuisines to eat! And when I stumbled upon dried corn husks and corn masa flour at Walmart, I was instantly inspired to tackle the task of making homemade tamales... from scratch.

I absolutely LOVE tamales but unfortunately vegan tamales are hard to come by, since typically they're filled with meat and the dough is made with lard. There are a few vegan frozen brands out there but they are way too expensive in my opinion (sorry but I'm not paying $3 for a tiny tamale). So I thought making my own would be a better alternative, and making a lot to keep in the freezer for when I get hit with a craving.

After a lot of research and some trial and error, I believe the recipe below is pretty solid. I chose to use the Jada Brands Plant-Based Porkless Lightly Seasoned Mix for the filling, but you can really use any filling you want. Try your favorite version of plant-based meat, rice & beans, jackfruit, zucchini and corn, or other veggies. Though keep in mind if your filling is too wet, the tamales will take longer to cook and might be more difficult to unwrap. Try this fun tamale recipe when you have a few free hours and want to make an impressive meal. Or make the masa and filling ahead of time and have a DIY tamale bar with your friends and family!

Cookware needed:

1 large baking dish

1 medium mixing bowl

1 large mixing bowl

Electric mixer (optional) or large spoon/spatula

Frying pan

Steamer basket

Tamale Ingredients:

24 large dried corn husks + 2 husks for using as ties

3 cups of instant corn masa flour (I used Maseca Nixtamasa Instant Corn Masa Flour)

2 1/2 cups of vegetable broth

1/2 cup + 1 tbsp vegetable oil

1 tsp salt

Filling Ingredients:

1 package of Jada Brands Plant-Based Porkless Lightly Seasoned Mix

1 small white onion

3 tbsp vegetable oil

1/2 cup of cantina style salsa (I used Fresh Cravings Restaurant Style)

2 tsp ground cumin

1/4 cup chopped cilantro

Directions:

For a video on how they're made, check out my Instagram reel here

Start by hydrating the corn husks.

Place all 26 of the husks in the large baking dish and cover with hot water. Set aside for 15-20 minutes to soften while you prepare the filling and dough.

Next, make the filling.

Pour the Jada Brands Porkless Mix into a medium size mixing bowl. Follow the instructions on the box to rehydrate the pork mix (add 1 cup of water & 1 tbsp of oil into the mix, stir, and let sit for 10 minutes).

Meanwhile, finely chop the onion and cilantro.

Heat a large frying pan over medium heat.

Add the onion and 2 tbsp of oil to the pan. Cook for about 2-3 minutes.

Add the pork mix, salsa, and cumin to the frying pan.

Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5-7 minutes or until the pork mix begins to look browned.

Remove from heat, mix in the cilantro, and set aside to cool.

Now that the filling is done, make the tamale dough (masa).

In a large bowl, combine the instant corn flour, vegetable broth, oil, and salt.

Use a large spoon/spatula or electric mixer to evenly mix the dough and make sure to work out any lumps. The consistency should be very thick but smooth and easy to stir. If it's dry and crumbly, mix in 1 tbsp of oil. If it's still dry, add 1 tbsp of water at a time until you get to the right consistency.

Continue mixing the dough for 5 minutes.

Now you are ready to assemble the tamales.

Take 2 of the smallest corn husks and dry them with a kitchen towel (keep the rest of the husks in the water so they don't dry out).

Rip the two husks into long shreds, about 1 cm wide, to use for tying the tamales. Set them aside.

Take 1 husk out of the water and dry it with a towel.

Using a small spatula, spread about 2-3 tbsp of the dough on the top half of the husk, leaving some space empty on the edges.

Spread 2 tbsp of the pork filling in the center of the dough in a vertical line.

Wrap the tamale by folding one side of the corn husk over the center almost to the other side, making sure the dough completely folds over the filling. Fold the other side of the corn husk over the center, then bring the bottom of the husk up and over the center of the tamale. The top will stay open.

Lay out one of the shreds from earlier and place the tamale on top. Tie the shred into a knot, securing the bottom of the tamale over the center. You can use two ties if needed.

Close the dough at the top of the tamale using your finger or a small spoon, spreading the dough over the filling to seal it shut.

Repeat with the rest of the corn husks (you will get faster with practice). If you have any leftover husks, remove them from the water and dry them to use in the future.

Once the tamales are all folded, it's time to steam the tamales.

Use a large steamer pot and fill the bottom with about 3-4 inches of water. Place the steamer basket inside.

Place 2-3 corn husks on the bottom of the steamer.

Then place the tamales in the steamer basket standing up (it's okay if they lean on each other). If not all of them fit, you can do them in separate batches.

Cover and steam them for 45-60 minutes over medium heat.

Check them at 45 minutes - remove one of the tamales to check if it's done. If it begins to unwrap easily from the corn husk, they are done. If the dough is still mushy, steam them for another 15 min or until the dough looks cooked through). You will most likely need to steam them closer to 60 minutes if there are a lot of tamales in the basket.

Once they are done steaming, remove them from the heat.

Let them cook for 5 minutes.

Serve, unwrapping the tamales from the corn husks and topping with your favorites (try salsa, avocado, guacamole, cilantro, or enchilada sauce).

Tips and Tricks:

There are many different types of corn flour masa you can buy, but I read from many articles and recipes that the Maseca brand is the best. I chose the Maseca Nixtamasa Instant Corn Masa Flour from Walmart. If you cannot find instant corn flour, you can still follow this recipe but may need to mix the dough for up to 10 minutes to get the right consistency.

If you can't find the Jada Brands Plant-Based Porkless Lightly Seasoned Mix, you can use any plant-based pork or meat mix your favorite veggies. Just follow the recipe as instructed above.

If your filling is too wet, the tamale dough may take longer to cook and they may be more difficult to unwrap.

You can make the filling and masa ahead of time to make this a faster recipe. Store the filling in the fridge, and keep the masa coverd at room temp.

Store the leftover tamales in their corn husks in an air-tight container in the fridge. Reheat them by unwrapping a tamale from the corn husk, microwaving it for 1 minute, and enjoy. You can also reheat them in the corn husk, they just might be a little difficult to unwrap.

These also freeze well. Store them in an air-tight bag or container in the fridge. Reheat them by microwaving the tamale for 30 seconds, then unwrapping it from the corn husk, then microwaving it for another 1 minute or until the center is warmed through.

#entrees #vegan #vegan recipes #vegan food #tamales

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