What the Hell Is THAT?

"If I made myself a plate, I would put a mountain of IT next to my mountain of rice" - Ronald Morales on Burong Isda

One fall evening, my husband and his buddy were doing the usual; smoking cigarettes, and exchanging war stories in little bite sized sentence fragments. My husband spends a large portion of his spare time in the garage fixing things that aren't broken. Sometimes he is accompanied by a friend or two, but most of the time it is just him and a pack of Djarum clove cigarettes. After listening to a few minutes of thier non-specific ramblings, I decide to indulge them with my rhetoric while I am waiting for my mother in law to arrive. It is unseasonably cold which I thought unusual since Los Angeles is almost ALWAYS "unseasonably hot" no matter what time of year it is.

I sense headlights in the periphery retreat to the safety of the sidewalk as a black vehicle slows to a stop in front of my driveway. My mother in law has arrived. I smile toward the windshield and waive my hand as to reassure her that it is okay to completely block my driveway. We engage in the customary greeting ritual:

1 hug
1 cheek kiss
2 arbitrary questions e.g. "How are you?" "How are the kids"
1 uncomfortable smile

She scurries around the car to open the cargo hatch to reveal what appeares to be a large steaming pot of Mexican tamales. My suspeculation is confirmed as she lifts the lid. A huge billow of steam wafts onto my face tantilizing my senses. There they are; little bricks of meat and or cheese enrobed in masa emerging for the first time from their steamy sarcophagus. Naturally, the two men in my garage begin to gravitate toward the cauldron of temptation. Who can resist freshly steamed home made tamales?

"How many do you want?"

Is she joking? Pretending to be unaware she is speaking to me, I turn to my husband's friend who is staring at the pot like a stray dog waiting for a tiny morsel to fall off of a roach coach. Had there not been any company at the time, i would have gladly accepted a dozen or more without flinching. So I gently redirect the question to my husband's friend.

"How many do you want?"

There is a pause of hesitation in his face, but it is too late. The hypnotic effects of tamale steam are forcing him to take,"...just a few."