Saturday, May 18, 2013

Neighborhood Dealer

Where I live there is only one place you can go to get your Nacatamale fix. My house. A Nacatamale is a tamale native to Nicaragua. It's nothing like the Mexican or Salvadorean tamale. They are an average of 2 to 3 pounds and stuffed with rice, potatoes, pork, tomatoes, and raisins. Traditionally we eat them for breakfast on the weekends. My mother knows that you can't get a decent Nacatamale this side of Miami. So what does she do? She sets up shop. She found this lady that makes them from scratch in her kitchen every week. That's her supplier. Don't you dare ask her who it is, or try to cut her out, because you will get cut off. She'll never give up her connect. 


Friday nights is when the drop happens. Usually around 8 the lady loads her car and brings the product over. My mom will have a pot of boiling water going, so she can test the product, if it's not quality shit, it all goes back. I've seen up to 300 pounds come through the door at a time. One hundred foil wrapped, pillow tied packs. They sometimes will count them 2 or 3 times, because my mom don't play. As soon as the lady leaves, she gets on the phone. "They're here" She tells them when to come and how much money to bring. They better bring cash, cause she's not running a charity.

They come like clockwork. She'll have orders separated and labeled. After she counts the money, then they get their package. Don't you dare complain about size or quality. One lady said they weren't that good last week, moms was like, "where else are you gonna go?" She was back the following week. Last week she was going out so my dad was in charge of distributing  The people came, he would get their package from the fridge and collect the money. The last pickup was here. he grabbed the last bag and gave it to her. When my mom came home that night, all hell broke loose. 

Where are the Nacatamales? We sold them all, he replied, as he hands her the envelope. What he didn't know was that she had bundled our stuff with the that last order because they were leaking. He hands out the bag not knowing. The lady goes home. After she tears into my dad, she proceeds to call the lady. Keep in mind it's a bit after midnight. Whatever she said to lady, she was at our door in less then 10 minutes with the bag with a sorry look on her face. I think she offered to give all of it back and keep the money. They opened up the pack, my mom got her's out. She retied the back and told the lady she'll let her slide this time. She already knows that next time she "accidentally" takes our shit out of here, she's getting cut off.

My mom is a "King Pin" around these parts. If you want a Nacatamale around here she's the only ballgame in town. Don't just show up though. You better come recommended by one of her regulars or you get the door slammed in your face. You better come when she tells you to, because if you don't show up, she has a phone book full of people that want those things and all she needs to do is make a call. Since she has her own supplier, she can fill any order big or small. I mentioned to her last week that I would love to have one, but since I don't eat meat I can't. I ain't say nothing but a word. This morning I had a wonderfully made meatless Nacatamale for breakfast. Thank God I'm related to the boss, because anyone else would have gotten a slap for asking for such things.

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