atole

A few months ago, my friend Ruth forwarded me an email about a tamales and atole fair in Tetepango, Hidalgo. The email was scarce on details, but it did contain one important fact: there would be more than 100 varieties of tamales and atoles for sale. More than 100. The organizers were also offering a free hotel stay for any DF foodies on the email list.

This was not a hard decision for me to make, although I don’t have a car and had no idea where Tetepango was. Free stay? A hundred tamales? I’m in.

Arriving to the tamales & atoles fair

After securing driving directions, I set off with Crayton, my friend Ben and his partner John in a rental car one Saturday afternoon. We arrived to Tetepango, a small town just past Tlaxcoapan (so you have a reference point), to find a party that had pretty much taken over the square. A live band blared cumbia. Hundreds of people milled underneath a huge tent, many of them wearing cowboy hats. I was expecting a series of stands along a street, but this looked like the event of the year.

We quickly set to work trying as many things as we could: atole de xoconostle con manzana (a tart, warm apple drink); red-wine flavored atole, coconut atole. We tried a tamalchil, which was a tamal topped with an ancho chile. We tried pork with peas in tomatillo sauce, tamales de quelites and a fabulous bean tamal wrapped in a banana leaf.

In front of one atole stand, a teenager shouted out all the varieties, urging people to stop and taste. “Atole! Atole de manzana! Pásale!”

There were a lot of atoles.

Just when we thought we’d eaten enough tamales…

Right as we were getting full, I called my contact, Jair, the director at a local cooking school, to see if there was anything he recommended we try. His wife answered his phone and said, “Come on stage.” (Yes, there was a stage.)

The four of us trooped up and made introductions. Then Jair motioned to a nearby table and told us to sit down. The festival included a contest, so about eight people in chefs’ jackets nibbled on tamales and sipped atole, scribbling notes on scorecards. “Go ahead, integrate yourselves,” Jair said. Wait — he wanted us to judge?

Crayton bowed out and so did John. I’m sure my eyes must have lit up, because these are the kind of tasks I was born for. This might have been the reason why I specifically chose a loose-fitting shirt.

Over the next 2 1/2 hours, Ben and I ate and ate. Corn husks piled up on top of each other, cold crumbs of masa inside. Jarritos containing our tastes of atole squeezed together in any open spot on the table.

I tried to judge the best I could, but to be honest, there were simply too many tamales and atoles moving too fast. They came at me from both sides of the table, about one every 30 seconds.

Crayton caught a blurry picture of us judging from afar. You’ll notice Ben and I deep in concentration.

Once we were done, and my stomach had sufficiently stretched the waistband of my jeans, it was time for the prizes. Tetepango knows how to throw a big event, so the prizes were enviable — a flat screen TV, an electric mixer, a set of glass casserole dishes.

The winners, announced with fanfare, were the tamales de pulpo with tomatoes; tamales de cueritos and, in first place, tamales de frijol con salsa de chinicuiles.

On the atole side, the winners were red wine atole and atole de cajeta con whisky.

After the festival was over the organizers were kind enough to show us our hotel, located next to a balneario. I think I might have dreamed of tamales on a conveyor belt.

The next morning another festival organizer, Amalia Rufina Neri Ángeles, had arranged for us to have breakfast with a local gastronomy student and guide, Marco Ramirez. We headed for the Sunday tianguis in Tlaxcoapan for barbacoa.

Well, first I asked Marco if we could stop for pandulce, and then try barbacoa.

After we ate, we wandered around and took more pictures. I bought some gorgeous beans I’d never seen before, which the vendor told me were called San Franciscanos, grown locally in Hidalgo.

Amalia and Marco, who were both so gracious and generous with their time, told us there were dozens of festivals in that part of Hidalgo every year, including ferias de barbacoa and barro. I’d really like to go back.