Mississippi Delta Tamales — Dale Knows How To Host

This time, eight years ago. Waiting by Mom’s bedside.

Photo apparently taken with the world’s first digital camera?! Not sure what’s up with the resolution. But here is Mom when we finally got her back home to die.

Same room, different scene. Dad and Mom with their granddaughters, probably 2012 or so?

A digital print on fabric of the Mallette St. house (my childhood home in Chapel Hill) that Mom embroidered onto a crazy quilt that she made for Elisabeth. Note the William Morris fabric in the background, that was in my parents’ bedroom at Mallette.

Hand blown glass ornaments from West Virginia along with red beads strewn about the house. Mom always did this at the holidays.

Most of these stockings were made by Mom.

My childhood dollhouse which was made by Mom and Nonnie (my grandmother). The level of detail is astonishing! Tiny magazines and silverware! Toilets! Custom bedding! A grill!

Mom being a goofball on Christmas morning with one of those head scratcher things.

A traditional Christmas dinner on Mom’s Wedgwood Florentine china. I’m sure I was more excited than I look! This was 1993 because I remember rocking a neck scarf my senior year of college. Note the red beads on the chandelier and candelabra.

Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, 1973.

Christmas in Texas with the Reeds! Maybe 2015?

Christmas in Texas involves lots of dancing!

The granddaughters always had matching holiday dresses.

And here they are attacking their Grandmomma in them!

This is just a quintessential Dale photo. In our breakfast room at Mallette St., so warm and cozy.

Eight years ago at this exact time of day I was lying beside my mother on what was to be her last night. We knew it would be. Well, we hoped it would be. Mom was going and there was no need for her to hang on. My sister, Elisabeth, was there. We had all said the things that needed to be said. At one point, earlier in the day, Elisabeth and I went for a walk, giving Mom the space to die alone, should she want that. It turns out you can’t go for a walk at Carolina Meadows without running into someone you know, so when my parents’ friend Judith pulled up next to us and we told her what we were doing, she wisely said, “Your mom wouldn’t want that.” So, we went back home. And we waited. My friend Missy had told me about her mother-in-law’s death. “There’s a certain sound, the rattle.” We weren’t hearing that yet, but Mom’s breathing was definitely slowing down and she hadn’t been conscious for most of the day. The only thing to do was to lie there and witness what was happening.

We had Mom’s hospital bed set up in the dining room, next to the Empire sideboard I’ve always coveted, where Mom could be “surrounded by her lovely things”. This arrangement worked because it was temporary; we were just glad to get her back into the house. That last night I lay on the floor by the bed in a little pillow fort I made. Elisabeth took the ugly recliner we had rented as part of the death furniture package. That leather (pleather?) behemoth had no business being around Mom’s “lovely things” but it damn sure was comfortable. There was a hired nurse across the room on one of the uncomfortable Empire sofas. She was there if we needed her, but she generally tried to stay out of our way.

I was still drinking in those days. I had cracked open a bottle of red wine, something I didn’t think Dad would miss too much, and nursed it throughout the day. I remember Elisabeth asking me earlier if I was with it enough to take a shift, which annoyed me because I’d been a pretty freaking high-functioning drinker for years and never yet dropped a ball. But now I get it, she wanted what was best for Mom, someone to be present. But being present was really painful.

I know I’ve written about this before, the magic of being awakened by Mom’s last breath. (I swear she woke me up just so I could hear it.) The weirdness of wondering what to do next after she died. (Elisabeth instructed the nurse to go get us biscuits, which seemed superfluous at the time but was probably a good idea. It was early morning and the start of a long, weird day.) The comfort found in the traditions and community of the church. (Something I’d never anticipated I would laud.) The surprising beauty in death. The immediate vacancy of Mom’s spirit. (We were left with a cold, strange body.) And then there was the whole hilarious dark comedy aspect of dealing with the cremation guys: a snafu with a credit card, us realizing that Mom wasn’t wearing pants and trying to put some on her à la “Weekend at Bernie’s”, the weird fake rose left on her pillow in place of her, her arm flopping off the gurney as they wheeled her out. It was all just so BIZARRE.

And then my mom wasn’t there at all, not even her body, which had all of a sudden become so foreign.

Today in yoga I got overwhelmed with emotion thinking about Mom’s death. Eight years. Eight years! What a wild difference between then and now. First of all, I was lying on the floor in Rhode Island, a place I couldn’t have imagined living eight years ago when I was firmly based in Texas. (I’m happy to report that I have a landing pad again in Texas, the Reed family Austin outpost. It feels good.) Dad and his wife, Linda, are coming to Texas for the holidays. Think about that. Dad has a new wife. (This, I’m happy about, but it’s nonetheless notable.) And, then, I’m not married anymore. Mom actually said something to me when she was dying, basically giving me permission to break tradition and not stay married, as I assumed I always would. She said, “I know of a lot of midlife divorces.” I think she could see my pain and disappointment with a clarity that I lacked. I wish she could see that I quit drinking. I wish she could see that I left my marriage. I wish she could see that I made some hard choices. I wish she could see that everyone is ok, that Luca is thriving and that I’m getting there, making a new life for myself. I wish Mom could meet Jason, my boyfriend, and see how sweet he is to me. Maybe she can.

I haven’t written on this blog for ages but, oddly, this project has come up in conversation a few times recently. Dad and I have been discussing making it into a book, something that interests me but I never quite have the time for. I used to keep a running list of blog topics, funny little memories that I wanted to share. I haven’t done that in a while but I did send myself an email titled “Mom American dance festival sleeping in clothes”. Allow me to decipher that for you. Mom was responsible for so much of my taste and cultural literacy. There is a dance festival every summer at Duke University called the American Dance Festival and Mom would often get tickets. One performance we saw had dancers perfectly choreographed with a strobe light, strategically jumping in the light and landing in the dark, creating an effect of them floating for the entire performance. I’m still thinking about this 40 years later. Thanks, Mom. Now, the sleeping in clothes part. I hated mornings so much as a kid, I still do in fact. I remember coming up with the genius idea of sleeping in my school clothes so I could shave time off of my morning preparations. Well, this lasted exactly one day. Mom came to wake me up and found me fully dressed. I remember her very calmly explaining to me that this was a bad idea because the clothes would get wrinkled and wouldn’t be clean. The end. No drama, no judgment, just facts. Mom was so patient with us. The other day a Facebook memory came up, something that my sister had posted. Her daughter had managed to untangle a delicate necklace that had become a mess. Leah said, “I just channeled Grandmomma and was patient.”

With the holidays coming up there are so many places where Mom’s absence will be noticeable: her amazing food served on the black and white Wedgwood Florentine china, the red beads strewn around the Mallette St. house, hell, the Mallette St. house itself! When I was last in Chapel Hill I stalked my childhood home, sneaking up the driveway at night to peek in a window. You wouldn’t believe what has happened to our house, it is somehow now an open-concept layout?! Where there used to be 3 rooms and a pantry, you can now see directly through to the kitchen. There are no more red beads dripping from the stairs and chandeliers. There are no more gold papier-mâché handmade angels on the dining table or olive wood crèche purchased in Israel on the mantel. The stockings Mom sewed and embroidered have all gone hither and yon to our respective homes. The dollhouse Mom painstakingly wallpapered and decorated is in storage somewhere in Chatham County.

Things have changed, some for the better, some just different. Anyway, I just wanted to drop a line to say hello and to commemorate the anniversary. I miss my Mom. Today you’re getting a recipe for Mississippi Delta Tamales. One year Julia Reed asked Mom and Dad to judge the contest at the Delta Hot Tamale Festival in Greenville, Mississippi, a true honor indeed. (We’ve also recently lost Julia, sadly. My last blog post was about her curry dip.) I plan to serve tamales at Christmas this year, but the Texas kind, which are a tradition at the holidays.

As Mom once signed off on an email, “Everybody take care of everybody else”.

MISSISSIPPI DELTA TAMALES

Makes 7 to 8 dozen

MEAT FILLING

6 to 8 pounds boneless meat (pork shoulder, chuck roast, or chicken)
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup chili powder
2 Tablespoons paprika
2 Tablespoons salt
2 teaspoons black pepper
1 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1 Tablespoon onion powder
1 Tablespoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin

Cut the meat into large chunks and place in a large, heavy pot. Cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat. Cover the pot, reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the meat is very tender, about 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Remove the meat and reserve the cooking liquid. When the meat is cool enough to handle, remove and discard any skin and large chunks of fat. Shred or dice the meat into small pieces. There should be about 14 to 16 cups of meat. Heat the vegetable oil in a large, heavy pot over medium heat. Stir in the chili powder, paprika, salt, pepper, cayenne, onion powder, garlic powder and cumin. Add in the meat and stir to coat with the oil and spices. Cook, stirring often, until the meat is warmed through, about 7 to 10 minutes. Set aside.

CORN HUSKS

While the meat is cooking, soak the husks in a large bowl or sink of very warm water, until they are softened and pliable, about 2 hours. Gently separate the husks into single leaves, trying not to tear them. Wash off any dust and discard any corn silks. Keep any shucks that split to the side, since two small pieces can be overlapped and used as one.

Corn Meal Dough

8 cups yellow corn meal or masa mix (available in most grocery stores)
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
1 2/3 cups lard or vegetable shortening
6 to 8 cups warm meat broth (from cooking the meat)

Stir the corn meal, baking powder, salt and lard together in a large bowl until well blended. Gradually stir in enough warm liquid to make soft, spongy dough that is the consistency of thick mashed potatoes. The dough should be quite moist, but not wet. Cover the bowl with a damp cloth.

Assembling the tamales

Remove a corn husk from the water and pat it dry. Lay the husk on a work surface. Spread about 1/4 cup of the dough in an even layer across the wide end of the husk to within 1 inch of the edges. Spoon about 1 tablespoon of the meat mixture in a line down the center of the dough. Roll the husk so that the dough surrounds the filling and forms a cylinder or package. Fold the bottom under to close the bottom and complete the package. Place the completed tamales in a single layer on a baking sheet. Repeat until all dough and filling is used.

Cooking the tamales

To simmer: Stand the tamales upright, closed side down, in a large pot. Place enough tamales in the pot so that they do not fall over or come unrolled. Carefully fill the pot with enough water to come just to the top of the tamales, trying not to pour water directly into the tamales. Bring the water to a boil over high heat. Cover the pot, reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the dough is firm and pulls away from the husk easily and cleanly, about 1 hour.

To steam: Stand the tamales upright, closed side down, in a large steamer basket. Cover the tamales with a damp towel or additional husks. Steam the tamales over simmering water until the dough is firm and pulls away from the husk easily and cleanly, about 1 to 1 1/4 hours.

Serve tamales warm, in their husks. Remove husks to eat.

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