Archive for Tamale Pie
Memoir Monday: Tamale Pie
I made a bargain with myself last week that I put categories on my blog and I would blog more, so today is Memoir Monday. On Mondays I will be blogging about memories. And what better way to start the first Memoir Monday than to tell a humiliating story about myself.
When I was thirteen, Mom decided I should take over the cooking duties one night a week. For my first dinner I decided to make a dish called Tamale Pie. It was a recipe from Mom’s favorite cookbook. We’d never had it before, but it sounded good. As Mom worked that Monday, I cracked open the cookbook and started following the recipe for Tamale Pie. 
Immediately I ran into problems, but I was on my own and had to find my own solutions.
The first issue was onions. I don’t remember if we didn’t have onions or I was just too lazy to chop them, but I decided to use dehydrated onions. I measured them out and threw them in the fry pan to brown them. Brown? They were black. I did not rehydrate them before using them, I put them straight into the hot oil. They turned into little black specks, but I pressed on. The hamburger was browning well, no problem there.
Next came the green peppers. I looked and looked and looked, but there was not a green pepper in the house. Substitution time! Hmm, what to substitute for green peppers? I know, green peppers are green so I can substitute green beans instead. They are both green, right? After that, the rest of the recipe went smoothly. At least that’s how I remember it, but Mom swears I used two cups of corn meal instead of a half cup as per the recipe.
Anyway, the family soon gathered round the table. I served up the Tamale Pie. Everyone helped themselves to a portion, and we began to eat. My first bite of Tamale Pie told me everything I needed to know about my first dinner. It was inedible. Everyone at the table was silent. My brother Andy was silent because he was too busy eating. Everyone else was stunned silent by the horrible taste in their mouths. They didn’t want to say anything to hurt my feelings. As we sat round the table, I began to laugh. I laughed so hard tears rolled down my face. Andy, however, was on his second helping before he realized no one else was eating. In the end Mom and Dad order Monk’s burgers for us.
To this day I hear about my Tamale Pie from my loving family even though, it has been decades, and my cooking is quite good. Ain’t family grand? I love them all and wouldn’t trade them for the world, but I might give them away for free.
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