On this darkest day of the year, we found light in gathering, working together, and making tamales.

I started preparing weeks ago, making sure we had sufficient hojas (corn husks), that the 10 pound pork roast went from freezer to refrigerator in time to defrost, locating the chile pods my momma sent from New Mexico. Then yesterday morning I put that roast into one of my huge pots with salt, pepper corns, chile flakes, garlic, coriander corns, and oregano. It boiled all day and started to fall off the bone in late afternoon. That’s when I toasted my chile pods in the oven and then steeped them in hot water for 5 minutes. Into the blender with some (a lot?) of the steeping water and more garlic and whirred until smooth. Meat into two fry pans, shredded with forks. Into one: more garlic, more salt, the red chile sauce, and cumin. Maybe more oregano. At this point, it is “to taste.” In the other pan went chopped green chile and MORE GARLIC. Then everything went outside (where it would freeze) overnight.

Today I made the corn gruel (masa) with corn flour (masa harina), yellow corn flour, salt, baking powder, lard, and the boiling pork broth. We smeared the masa on the softened corn husks, added a large dollop of meat, rolled them up and steamed them for about an hour and a half.

Michael made red chile sauce and black beans, I made guacamole, and we have cottage cheese because one of my daughters inherited a Danish palate (where black pepper is spicy). Everyone declared the tamales to be “edible,” which was Aunt Harriette’s word of culinary praise. Or as my Tío John would say: “pasa.”

Being surrounded by these celestial bodies is more than enough to light up our lives. Now it is time to sit down, watch the fire, and resolve to do dishes in the morning.