Normally, I don’t over do it when it comes to food. Moderation is key to enjoying good food or anything else in life, but that goes out the window on special occasions like the holiDAZE. I spent them with my fam this year and I forgot how much great food is cooked, for example baby lamb. They wanted to bring in the new year with some barbacoa, which is hard to find again since the guys on Breed St. had to relocate. With soo much great food around it’s easy to over do it and over do it I did. In fact, I had nightmares of being in a drive by and getting a beat down from women I’ve pissed off in the past. Freaky stuff to say the least. Even Victoria D. said she had the same experience from eating so much rich food. Anyone else had freaky dreams from all the good times they had these last few days ?
For those that were breathlessly waiting for a follow-up, here it is. Birth of a new tradition? Another hint at the end times? Pre-post-post-Chicano food? Whatever this means, yours truly, despite the yucks and boos from the gathered crowd, went ahead with the making of a Kraft Cheez tamal. You know, that food-like orangey product in individual slices. The verdict: hey, that’s not so bad! I did add some rajas and papas to the mix, so that made it worthwhile. But it kinda failed cuz I thought it would be all melty but instead it just globbed up, maybe singles aren’t meant for a 2 hour steam bath. Hmm, on second thought, maybe I should have added 2 slices.
If I remember correctly, my very first post on this here blog was about a police sobriety check in the heart of Boyle Heights in June of last year. Hmm more than a year later, the economy in Califas is tanking, the city is looking left and right and underneath every couch cushion to save money and bring in more revenue, like raising sales taxes to 9.75 percent and other various measures. It’s getting tight in this city, real tight. The kind of tight that when I was growing up, frijoles, huevos and tortillas were what’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with maybe some queso de piez sprinkled on the beans to add a little variety.
Needless to say, it’s not hard to connect the dots on the current situation out on the streets of L.A. right now, with all these holiday sobriety check points to keep drunk drivers off the streets. This is an invaluable service by the police, however we all know that’s not the case right ? I mean come on !! This is way over the line, even for the L.A.P.D We all expect and know these holiday sobriety checkpoints are around, but as of late, the amount of cars getting pulled over and of these check points is bordering on abuse. Nah, you know what, it is abuse. “Ohh but you’re just exaggerating because you blah, blah, blah” hell no I’m not exaggerating. Sunday of last week me and VD were kicking old school on our way to the barrio when we see a car pulled over on Sheridan. Then we see another car pulled over two blocks further down and then another car pulled over on Chavez and Soto. Not to mention that I average out one text per day informing me of where there are check points taking place. This isn’t the police checking for drunk drivers and keeping the streets safe, this is the police being abused by the shot callers who need to come up with more feria to cover the cost of their business expenses and trips to Mexico to represent L.A. in a book fair. Really !? A book fair !?
The Tamalada is on! Over at my local Big Saver the after work/pre-tamalada crowds were doing the rounds: picking through the tomatillos, looking for the biggest bag of hojas with nicely shaped husks, contemplating investing in one of those large steamers with the false bottom (at $15 they are worth every penny), making the tough decision of going with the cheaper and milder California chiles or going for broke with the Guajillos. And if you make the queso con rajas tamales then you also have to think about the price range of your cheese, be it the classy and expensive Tillamook or the cheapo but affordable no name blocks. (Is it Henry’s? Dave’s?)Â Right by the entrance turnstile was a huge display of masa preparada, but I’ll pass on that and the lard within. I’m sticking to maseca. One of these years I’m going to find a place that sells masa preparada without the lard, because we really need to know. And I bet the place that starts this novel concept is going to get lots of business. I was hoping to do a post on that topic this year but I guess it will have to wait. If you missed it, or if you’re just a pocho that refuses to make your own, check out my post from last year where I covered a few of the tamales available on the Eastside. Maybe by next year I will once again be unemployed and finally have the time to finish some of these post ideas. One can dream.
Above you see some of my basics, and yes, I do use tofu in my red sauce tamales. Plus I add papas. And green olives. It’s better than it sounds. I also make a standard tamal of pasilla rajas/queso/tomatillo salsa that is basic but satisfying. But this year I’m going to invent something new, something for the Chicano kitchen. The kraft cheeze tamal? Yup, that’s going to be created by me. Hay les digo que tal.
So how do you make yours? May your pot gather steam and your masa set properly. Those are my sincerest wishes to you.
A few years ago, in San Juan de Pasto, Southern Colombia, I was thrown into the back of a van by some seriously strapped soldiers. They confiscated my camera. Earlier that day I discovered that Colombians were the kindest folk I had ever met, so I wasn’t very worried alone in the back of an unmarked van. I thought of my new friends at the bakery and barbershop as we swerved through the city. For some reason, I was allowed to keep my backpack. I opened it, grabbed my headphones and ipod and Booker White did what he always does.
The van tore through the streets. The suspect in back was moving with Booker: “I was at my mother’s grave, when they put my mother away.” One dark-skinned soldier tapped the other and they turned to look at me. I felt like I was watching something fascinating unfold. Where were we going? What was my crime? Soldiers armed to the gums deemed me a threat with my t-shirt, sandals and scruffy beard. I watched them and hummed a little more. Then we got to the jail.
I was “interrogated” for several hours. My California ID got me free. I walked out of that jail the way I walked in: humming a tune.
Usually I like the sounds of new cities, but at that moment, I wanted something else: I stopped, reached back, got the headphones and Booker T. Washington White. Bruises be damned, there we were, on the streets of Southern Colombia, smiling because… we didn’t need a reason. We never do. I felt like singing. So we did, “I’m a stranger at this place, and I’m looking for my mother’s grave.”
Booker White “Strange Place Blues”
[audio:https://laeastside.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/strangeplaceblues.mp3]
I’m a stranger at this place and I’m lookin’ for my mother’s grave
I’m a stranger at this place and I’m lookin’ for my mother’s grave
Well it seems like to me, ooh ooh well, some of us goin’ to wail
I was at my mother’s grave, when they put my mother away
I was at my mother’s grave, when they put my mother away
And I can’t find no one, ooh ooh well, to take her place
I thought after my mother was put away, I thought my wife would take her place
After my mother was put away, I thought my wife would take her place
I’ll show you the difference ‘tween a mother and a wife, ooh ooh well, my wife done throw my away
I wished I could find someone to take my mother’s place
I wished I could find someone to take my mother’s place
And if I can’t find no one, ooh ooh well, well you’ll find me at her grave
I’m standin’ on my mother’s grave and I wished I could seen her face
I’m standin’ on my mother’s grave and I wished I could seen her face
I’ll be glad when that day comes, ooh ooh well, well when it be to drive me away
And from his Gap sweater came tumbling a cascade of poly-blend silk roses, which left an iconic piece imprinted on his cotton finery. Spotted near the Tepeyac of City Terrace, aka Hazard Ave.
At the center of this city of ours, El Centro de Los Angeles, the flowers bloom for reals.
Last night, a friend and I were taking a stroll around Olvera Street when we noticed many families leaving La Placita, the church across the way, carrying gifts and hot steaming cups of champurrado. We went over to see the festivities and were treated to tamales and the destruction of a couple of piñatas. I’m so behind the times, I didn’t realize last night was the first noche de las posadas.
Does your neighborhood carry on Las Posadas traditions? If so, anyone wanna invite me over for some ponche? I’m not religious but I’m happy to participate in any holiday that involves good food and communal celebrations!
“Handball is a pride sport. It’s not about winning money, it’s about pride. It takes the skills of a boxer and the mind of a chess player to win.†In the barrio, sometimes pride is just as important as money. ~ United States Handball Association national champion Elias Barajas
Pride is more important than money, other wise we wouldn’t be here, but that’s just me. I was sent this info to pass along and post via Chuy 90023 and a friend of his who sent me the info. Thanks guys 🙂 This weekend, as if there wasn’t enough things to do already, the Maravilla Handball Court will be holding a co-ed youth tournament this Saturday and Sunday. Here’s the info: The first-ever co-ed handball tournament for youth at the historic Maravilla Handball Court, the oldest handball court in East Los Angeles. The court was built brick-by-brick by East L.A. residents in 1923 and reflects the rich layers of history common in Los Angeles. The Old Timers—former members and veteranos of the Maravilla Handball Club, which was once open to men only—will attend the tournament to mentor and train a new generation of handball players. The junior singles tournament has four divisions: ages 17 and under, 15 and under, 13 and under, and 11 and under.
Maravilla Handball Court Sat & Sun December 19 and 20, 8:30 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.
501 N. Mednik Avenue (between Hammel and Dozier)
East Los Angeles, CA 90022
COST:
Free for spectators, $4 entry fee for participants with proceeds going to the Maravilla Historical Society
For more info and some of the history of the handball courts, click here.
Is it me or am I doing these, “go check this out this weekend” post more and more often. It’s just me because these are all events YOU HAVE TO GO CHECK OUT THIS WEEKEND. I’m serious. A lot of them are free or relatively free. This weekend though, I will be part of one 🙂 See that picture of people on the bus, I made that 🙂 No too shabby if I say soo myself. The event where my stuff will be on sale is on the list of events so check it out if you can 🙂 The list is going to be broken down by day, since these events are starting Thursday and ending on Sunday.
The L.A. Times published a story today about how some teachers can’t control their classrooms and how it makes for a horrible learning environment. The story focuses on how teacher school doesn’t teach teachers how to handle discipline problems because it’s all circumstantial and what may work for one class won’t work for another. The story didn’t shed any light on anything we already didn’t know really. So, since I am a product of the LAUSD system and have seen a lot of shit, even in my day, I’m going to chime in with my own two cents and offer my suggestions to would be LAUSD teachers on how to deal with the discipline issue of teens. Also, if teachers, former and current, can chime in with their war stories and what worked for them, anonymously of course, it will be greatly appreciated.
Something that I’ve always been intrigued and interested by is how people of color come to, in a way, escape their perceived cultural outposts. For non-POC folks being “strange & different” is seen as plain eccentricity while doing the same while being a POC is seen as pure deviance. We are maligned by both the “dominant” culture and our “traditional” culture. As noted in such films such as AfroPunk, we exist somewhere neither here nor there (but maybe everywhere?)
Growing up as a kid, I loved playing games with all the other neighborhood kids and more often than not, cousins too. A lot of the games we played are your standard stuff like hide and seek, tag, freeze tag, trompos, canicas, soccer, going on long bike rides around the hood, hitting rocks with a stick, throwing stuff at RTD buses passing by, you know, those kind of games. The ones were all you needed was a bunch of friends and a sunny afternoon. Since we were all from low income families back in the day, course we didn’t know it at the time and speaking for myself, still am, we created our own fun and those were some of the best times I had in my childhood. I was even caught up in the whole pog craze. Then I got swept up in the yo-yo craze tambien. One of the best games I remember playing with my cousins was getting two sticks. A short, thick one and a long skinny one. We would dig a hole in the dirt and place the small stick over the hole. We would then used the longer stick to chuck the short stick as far as we could, the way you hit a golf ball with a club. The winner was who ever threw it the fardest. We had some good times playing with two sticks and a hole in the dirt. So, I wanna know what games you guys/gals played when you were a kid. Was it made up ? Did someone get hurt from the game ? Were you emotionally scarred for life like I was when you were picked last at everything because everyone thought you’d suck, but then you’d be the one kicking ass ? Do you even remember how to play those games ? (cause god knows I can’t remember how to play canicas anymore) Have you taught your kids, nephews and god children to play those same games ? Dime… AND please keep any crazy stories about playing house and doctor to yourself, this is a family site. Unless they’re really good, then please share them by all means 🙂
