Every Christmas, my mama makes tamales. It’s just kind of…
There’s just nothing like coming home to one of your favorite diners, seeing all the waitstaff you know and love, being one of MANY brown people in the place, hearing Spanish spoken at most tables, dipping a concha into creamy coffee, scooping up carne guisada with fresh tortillas, and being surprised (as always) at how inexpensive a meal is.
Only slightly better (just kidding, it was insanely awesome) is looking up from your table and seeing on the wall next to you, among the many awards and family photos, a snapshot from THE BOOK YOU WROTE framed on the wall. I felt just proud, happy and thrilled!