Mississippi Delta Tamale Trail

I don't know how/where we heard about it, but some time ago we learned that folks all over the Mississippi Delta make hot tamales.  In fact, Highway 61 that runs from Memphis plumb on down to the Gulf of Mexico has been dubbed the "tamale trail."  This weekend, kind of on the spur of the moment, Joel, his sister Pennie, her husband Gus, and I decided to drive that trail and sample the tamales at every joint between Tunica and Clarksdale.  I found a list of tamale joints at www.southernfoodways.org, and we headed out about 10 a.m Saturday.

The first place on our list was Sears Street Grocery in Tunica.  We followed the map, found the address, and thought twice about going in.  It looked mostly like a bar, and said "Bud's Bar" instead of "Sears Street Grocery."  I dialed the number I'd gotten from the web site, and got a recording that said the number had been disconnected.  I called the next place on the list, Ervin's Hot Tamales, in Sledge, Mississippi.  A nice lady answered the phone, confirmed that she had tamales, and said that we were welcome to come get some.  We programmed the address into the GPS, and took off.

The GSP directed us off the highway and onto little country roads that curled through cotton and rice fields.  Houses got few and farther between.  In no time, we were in the middle of nowhere, and feeling a little doubtful about founding a tamale joint in those parts.  When the GPS said, "Arriving at destination," we slowed down, looked around.  The mailbox confirmed the address was correct, but all we saw was a house at the end of a long driveway.  Joel was going to drive on by, but I said, "Now, wait...we've come this far.  Let me call her back and see if this is the right place."  I dialed the number.  The nice lady said we were in the right place.  "Ok, we'll be there in about three seconds," I told her.  Joel backed the truck up and eased it down the driveway.  The lady met us at the carport with a warm package and a strip of paper towels.  I gave her $11 for a dozen tamales, and we thanked her and left.

Gus tore into the package before we were out of the driveway.  Inside were four foil-wrapped bundles, and inside the foil were three parchment-wrapped tamales, tied with kitchen string.  A heavenly, savory aroma filled the truck.  I passed Gus some embroidery scissors I had in my bag, and he snipped the strings.  Joel pulled over in the first available spot, a tiny cemetery in a thicket at the edge of a field, and we tore into our individual bundles. 

Up to that moment, my experience with tamales had been limited to the canned things.  I was expecting something wrapped in parchment and dripping with red-tinged grease.  These tamales were wrapped in parchment, but Oh.  My.  God.  I never tasted anything so wonderful.  Since we were in a vehicle and had no plates or utensils, we squeezed the tamales out of the wrappers right into our mouths, then unrolled the wrappers and licked them!  My opinion of tamales had taken a 180-degree turn.  We were all anxious to get to the next place on the list, "Hick's Hot Tamales" in Clarksdale, Mississippi.

The signs said "OPEN," but the doors were locked and there were no cars in the parking lot.  I tried the door and started to walk away, then I heard a "click," and turned to see a young man opening the door for us.  We went in and ordered a dozen more tamales.  "Just one dozen for all y'all?" the man at the counter asked.  We explained that we were on a tamale-tasting adventure and didn't want to get too full at one place.  He said he'd sell us a dozen, "but y'all gon want more."  He was right; we wanted more (but refrained).  They were yummy!  These were wrapped in corn shucks.  They were a tad spicier and a little greasier than Ervin's, and the corn meal exterior was faintly sweet.  They served them with saltine crackers.  We washed them down with beer.  Delicious! 

 

 

The next stop on our list was Ground Zero Blues Club, which advertised "deep fried tamales." 

We ordered both the "regular" tamales and the deep fried ones, which were chopped into pieces, battered, and fried.  The regular ones came with a side order of slaw.  The fried ones came with a house dipping sauce and packets of ranch dressing.  We couldn't finish them.  We were just too full.  As a friend said, "Too much of a good thing is...too much."

We could've used some dessert, though.  There were several desserts on the menu, but someone in the group mentioned a hankering for pie.  After that, nothing but pie would do.  We drove around a bit, looking for pie, but didn't find any in the immediate area.  Dejected, we pointed the truck for home.

On the way, we remembered a place not far from the house that has pie.  We went in to see what they had.  Lemon.  Coconut Cream.  Pecan.  Chocolate.  And cake:  strawberry, banana, cheesecake, chocolate, and lemon.  Between the four of us, we ate 3 pieces of coconut pie, two pieces of banana cake, and a piece of chocolate pie.  My sister-in-law even bought a WHOLE coconut cream pie to take home.

Full to the gills, we climbed into the warm truck.  The closer to home we got, the heavier our eyelids got.  We dropped off the in-laws at their house, came home, put on our warm jammies, and settled in for the night.

It was good to be home!

P.S. - Willie Nelson was supposed to play at a casino in Tunica on Saturday night.  We only found out about it on Friday, and the tickets were sold out by then.  We checked the web site all day Saturday to see if any tickets had been released, and we even stopped by the casino Saturday evening to beg for tickets in person.  Alas, we were sad to learn that the show had been cancelled because some of Willie's band members had been injured in a bus wreck earlier in the day.  So, Willie, if you're reading this, we hope your folks get well soon, and we'll see you next time, if we can get tickets.  :)