Julie Aeschliman is the Education Program Coordinator for MCC Nicaragua.
Nacatamales are a bit of a mystery to me. Unlike tamales found in other parts of Mesoamerica, nacatamales are uniquely Nicaraguan, making use of a variety of local ingredients and flavors. According to Ramirez, in the book “Lo Que Sabe el Paladar”, the word nacatamal comes from the pre-Columbian Nahuatl language, “nacatl” meaning meat and “tamalli” meaning tamal or wrapped up (pg. 325). The nacatamal is made of boiled corn ground into a dough or masa, a generous portion of pork lard, a dash of salt, a few vegetables sliced neat and tidy for garnish, then a piece of pork as the centerpiece, all tucked up in the center of a few banana leaves. The joy of abundance is evident when families gather to eat nacatamales, celebrating special days such as weddings and Christmas. It could be a special occasion only kind of food, given the labor intensive 2-day process it takes to make them, but Nicaraguans also enjoy eating nacatamales as a weekend breakfast. Walking the streets of Managua, it’s not hard to spot signs reading, se venden nacatamales C$45, nacamamales for sale 45 cordabas.
As the respected Nicaraguan poet & author Jose Coronel Urecho once said, “one silent nacatamal” says more about the history of his country than anything else. “The nacatamal, after all, was there first” (LA Times, 1996). So, grab a cup of coffee and join me on a culinary visit to explore the process of preparing nacatamales, a Nicaraguan culinary masterpiece dating back to pre-Columbian times. Our hosts are Lucila and her mother Doña Julia.
A nacatamal, cooked and ready to eat. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Day 1 Thursday
Step 1: I called up Lucila to ask if she might be making nacatamales this weekend and if by chance I could take up her on an earlier invitation to visit and learn about the process. “Yes, of course, I’ll be making them tomorrow, but right now I’ve got the corn soaking and need to go to the market to buy the other ingredients”. I’ll call you later when I get home”, she tells me.
Corn soaking overnight, ready to grind into a dough or masa. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
That evening, she calls me back. She has the ingredients and proceeds to give me directions to her house. So, you head out of Managua going towards Leon, then grab the road to Masachapa, you know there is a bus stop at kilometer so and so, that’s where you turn left. Just drive straight, straight, straight until you get to the community Los Cedros (changed for security purposes). Everyone knows the mechanic, just keep asking for him until you get to my house. I’ll be looking for you!”. “Gracias, hasta mañana pues“, thanks, see you tomorrow, I say to her, while thinking how hard can this place possibly be to find?
Day 2 Friday
Step 2: 1 hour, several turns, a fork in the road, and 3 times rolling down the truck window to ask, “I’m looking for the mechanic so and so, which way?”, I arrive. Lucila is waiting for me at the entrance of her family’s property. She gives me a firm hug and ushers me to the outdoor cocina, kitchen behind her house. I find large plastic bowls filled with some of the ingredients; onions, peppers, tomatoes, garlic, potatoes, mint and a large 5-gallon pail full of soaking corn. She says we are here to work, a trabajar, so hands me a knife and I start chopping sweet chiles.
Lucila’s mother, Doña Julia, shows me the annatto seeds that grow on a tree in their yard and will give the dough a red earthy hue. Abuela Julia looks at me with a proud smile, “Lucila learned to make nacatamales from me, I would like to teach my granddaughters too, when they’re not so busy with school”, she says.
Annatto seed will be ground with tomatoes, chiles, onions and garlic and corn to make the masa. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Step 3: We head to a neighbor’s house to grind the corn using his electric mill. Part of what gives the nacatamal dough is its earthy red color is grinding the tomatoes along with garlic, onion and sweet chiles and a healthy handful of annatto together with the corn.
Don Aurelio uses his electric mill to grind corn for nacatamales and tortillas. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Step 3:
Back in Dona Lucila’s kitchen we set out the ingredients on a wooden table; corn masa, sliced vegetables, pork rib with a healthy amount of achiote (annatto seed) rubbed into the meat with a secret marinade sauce. Lucila admits, “I know this is a really long process but what else would I do, sit around with my arms crossed?” She says she sells some nacatamales from her house but often on Saturdays she drives her moto to the main highway about 5 km away, dropping off orders her neighbors make throughout the week. Sometimes, if she has any left, she takes them to church on Sundays to sell. “I used to make 70 maybe 80″ every week but now I am just making 40”, she tells me. The economy has been bad lately and she says her neighbors, most of whom are subsistent farmers, have fewer cordobas to spend. She says, “people will always want to eat nacatamales but right now they are buying fewer”.
Clockwise starting at top left; sliced vegetables, corn masa, sour oranges, potatoes, raw rice and fresh mint, and marinated pork rib. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Step 4:
Lucila patiently shows me how to lay out two banana leaves overlapping each other and then takes a third banana leaf and lays it somewhat diagonal on top of the first two. Next, she scoops about a cup of corn masa and then shouts, “wait we forgot the manteca” (pork lard). Doña Julia comes running with a 2-liter coke bottle filled with liquid pork fat and proceeds to empty about half the bottle into the corn masa. Lucila kneads the manteca into the masa for about 5 to 10 minutes, making sure all the dough has been kneaded and the pork fat is completely mixed into the corn masa.
Wiping clean the banana leaves before assembling the nacatamal. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Adding pork fat to the masa. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
“Listo!” Ready, she says. Let’s assemble these nacatamales. And so it is I assemble my first nacatamal; 3 banana leaves, 1 scoop of corn masa, 1 piece of pork rib pushed gently into the middle of the masa, spreading the dough out into a wide but thick circle. Then laying 1 slice each of tomato, onion, green pepper, and potato to garnish the pork. A sprinkle of uncooked grains of rice and a sprig of mint complete the process. Now it’s time to gather up the opposite ends of the banana leaf and fold down the banana leaf, wrapping the nacatamal and finally, it’s almost ready to cook.
Adding a bit of pork marinade to the ingredients before wrapping up the nacatamal. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Doña Julia carefully wrapping up the nacatamal in banana leaves. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Step 5: Taking a plastic string cut just the right length to wrap around each end and across the middle, I knot the string twice and done. Doña Julia, watching me with her sharp eyes says, “teach her again”, obviously I didn’t get it right the first time. After successfully knotting the nacatamal tightly with the string, I start to tie up all the remaining nacatamales that Lucila has been stacking up… and there are a LOT and we still have about 1/3 of the masa left. It’s 12:30 and I’m starting to get hungry when Doña Julia decides she is going to start making some tortillas, fresh tortillas, because you know it’s a glorious thing to eat a fresh tortilla with a piece of salty cheese and some sour cream like, crema. So it is that I sit down on a plastic chair, take a break from tying the tamales shut, and eat, bite after bite of hot savory tortilla with crema and salty cheese. The flavor of the tortilla, the colors of the nacatamal ingredients, and the gracious and uncomplicated hospitality of my hosts combine in a moment of immense gratitude. Then to top it off, I’m offered a cup of coffee, dark, strong and very sweet.
Doña Julia cooking a freshly ground corn tortilla on a clay comal. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
A stack of nacatamales ready to tie shut with string. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
Step 6: Happens in a flurry because well it’s getting late, Doña Julia thinks it’s going to rain, and the tamales must boil for 2-3 hours in a very large metal pot over a wood fire. Quickly we place some thin shredded pieces of banana leaf on the bottom of the pot to prevent sticking and then lay the tamales in the pot, so I can get the final photos. My hosts, well aware that I needed to see this process to completion.
Almost ready to cook, Lucila carefully lays the nacatamales in the pot to boil. Photo: Julie Aeschliman
I snap the final photos, let the tamales cook, give hugs of appreciation, stating emphatically yes, I would love to buy some nacatamales, just bring some to church this Sunday or any Sunday for that matter, and I’m off….following the dirt road, down the hill, around the fork and back to the main highway leading to Managua.
I came to Nicaragua in part because I was curious about the flavor or sabor of life, what are the moments of daily drudge, of unspeakable joy, how do the mysteries of life manifest themselves in Nicaragua? I spent time reading books about Nicaragua (if I may recommend one it’s the Jaguar’s Smile by Salman Rushdie) because what better way to experience the sabor of a place and its people then to read its literature and taste its foods. Today that involved making nacatamales.
“Nicaraguans in foreign lands always remember the nacatamales”
–Poet Ernesto Cardenal
Sources:
Baxter, Kevin (1996, December 5). La Times. It’s Nacatamal Time, The LA Times. Retrieved from http://articles.latimes.com/1996-12-05/food/fo-5881_1_banana-leaf.
Espinoza Ramirez, Lucila and her mother Doña Julia, (2018). Expert nacatamal makers and keepers of a long standing Nicaraguan culinary tradition without whom this article would not be possible. Managua, Nicaragua.
Ramírez, Sergio (2014). Lo que Sabe el Paladar. Managua, Nicaragua. Impresión Comercial La Prensa.