Look at you. You just made something that connects you to generations of tamale makers. That batch of red chile pork is going to fill your home with the kind of smell that makes neighbors knock on your door with sad, hopeful eyes. Let them knock. Share a tamale. The world needs more pork and less arguing.
So go ahead, fire up that pot, embrace the chile-stained countertops, and get messy. Your future self—the one eating a perfect, porky tamale—will high-five you. And remember: a tamale is just a corn husk’s way of saying, “I love you.” Now go get stuffed. You deserve it.
