guy on the street

ok, so maybe this isn't exactly "on the street," but a couple weeks ago i was at the bar, dada, on 2nd and mission for a happy hour drink celebrating a coworker's birthday when in strolls a latino man, around his late 40's/50's, dressed in shorts and garb reminscent of a tommy bahamas outfit gone bad. in rolled behind him a large cooler on a small collaspable metal dolly. he parked himself and his fridge against the wall five feet away from our seats. the bouncer let him in with that? he looked oddly out of place.

i minded my own drink until i overheard another man say above the noisy bar din, "what you got?" "chicken mole, pork verde, and cheese." "i'll take a chicken and pork." "five dollahs." glancing over i watched the man flip open the cooler, reach in, and parcel two small bundles into the other man's hand. my eyes widened.

TAMALES!! IT'S A TAMALE GUY! thoughts of rapturous tamale/street food experiences lived vicariously through the tales of chowhounders and south central LA'ers alike danced through my head. i jumped right up and took two big steps up to the cooler.

"how much?" "one for three dollahs, two for five." "i'll take a... um... pork and chicken! are you always here?" "nah, i hop around from place to place until i sell out." an exchange of paper, corn husk, and thanks.

whoa! that ain't no cooler. these little suckers were piping hot! i sat back down, happy that i'd gotten the goods before the growing crowd around the cooler got even bigger, unpeeled the husks off the pork and dug in with my flismy, white plastic fork.

the masa had a wonderful texture: not too mealy, not too soft. it was well-seasoned and exquistely juicy (read lard, hehe), the pork verde filling tender and slightly tart and spicy. the chicken fared even better, its mole being savory and smokey at the same time.

by this time several others had plopped back into their stools and seats with their own masa concocctions and were savouring an unexpected bar snack. one felt the filling was a bit sparse while another raved about the lard. still another argued between mouthfuls how the tamale lady of mission was way better. whatever. my head was buzzed and my stomach was full. i'd call it a good nite. i do hope the tamale guy of 2nd street is around next time i'm out for happy hour.