“You smell like food,” she asked. “Where’ve you been?”
I checked my shirt and no, I wasn’t wearing any food. But Mrs. SME could smell the tamale ten feet away. I was caught, the only option a complete confession.
“Um, I stopped at Los Cuates on the way home. Did you know they have tamales?”
She crossed her arms, mollified, and more than a little impressed by her olfactory powers. I assured her it would not spoil our date night dinner plans and, Murry’s being Murry’s, it didn’t.
If last year was the year of porchetta, 2009 is shaping up as the Year of the Tamale. We have a worthy addition to the genre at the Los Cuates on Bernadette Ave. And it costs one dollar.