Talame Lady is an institution in these here parts. If you don't like it, you can just mosey on back to where you came from. Mess with the Tamale Lady, you'll get the whole enchilada. And not in the good way.
This has to be fake, right? If the universe is at all merciful it's fake.
Next week on Portlandia we're going to see Fred Armisen hassling some dude trying to sell drugs on the street corner: "Hey, I'm kind of skeptical that this is really 100% pure Columbian. The last time I bought coke from someone like you I couldn't shut the fuck up for DAYS! Is it even certified Fair Trade?"
This makes me think of that Orsen Welles story - he was eating at a famous place over in France when a American lady began complaining because she saw a rat.
Orsen told her something like "My dear lady, it wouldn't be a French restaraunt without one."
I lacked the $30k needed to open a food cart, so I took inspiration from Tamale Lady and tried a similar approach last summer. It didn't go as well as I'd hoped.
Sure, sales were okay at 9am, but by 4pm seemingly nobody wanted one of my homemade chicken salad sandwiches
This complaint is such fake rage. You can eat cookies from a friend or something a co-worker brings in, but the creepy foreign lady.. oh man, it's probably full of rat poison and pubes, right? You don't deserve Tamale Lady's tamales.
I have purchased many a tamale from the/a tamale lady and never had any ill effects. Anyway, tamale vendors are inherently under the radar Anon, and everyone but you knows to eat at your own risk.
What you have to understand is that Portlanders love Tamale Lady. She has what our forefathers called "indie cred."
It's 2014 and everyone's got a food cart. Everyone accepts credit cards. We have an endless array of repackaged and up-marketed cuisines available to us whenever we want.
And yet, Tamale Lady is not on Twitter. She doesn't Instagram selfies from a food cart pod, nor is she jockeying for a slot selling her unsanctioned food at Timbers or Blazers games.
She presents a rare opportunity for middle class white kids to try authentic ethnic food that is exotic and novel-- but to also purchase these goods in an exotic and novel manner using cash money.
Furthermore, this transaction is relatively nonthreatening to the middle class white kids, who are easily frightened by people that are racially and economically dissimilar to themselves.
And therefore, everybody wins. Tamale Lady gets money, middle class white kids get to bond with one another over the exotic, novel, handcrafted and "totally under the radar" street food and the authentic interaction they all had. "Way to be so open minded," they say, slapping each other on the back and toasting cans of Pabst.
Make the little lady cough up a lotta cash to be put in a local bureaucrat's entertainment and retirement fund. Also make her keep handy some cash to pay off a random inspector official/unofficial then she'll get to see you more often. There's a lose/lose scenario.
I/A you've obviously got pretty ballistic bowels. Better re-think gobbling tamales of any origin.
Next week on Portlandia we're going to see Fred Armisen hassling some dude trying to sell drugs on the street corner: "Hey, I'm kind of skeptical that this is really 100% pure Columbian. The last time I bought coke from someone like you I couldn't shut the fuck up for DAYS! Is it even certified Fair Trade?"
Orsen told her something like "My dear lady, it wouldn't be a French restaraunt without one."
Sure, sales were okay at 9am, but by 4pm seemingly nobody wanted one of my homemade chicken salad sandwiches
They are, and they've never made me sick at all.
This complaint is such fake rage. You can eat cookies from a friend or something a co-worker brings in, but the creepy foreign lady.. oh man, it's probably full of rat poison and pubes, right? You don't deserve Tamale Lady's tamales.
It's 2014 and everyone's got a food cart. Everyone accepts credit cards. We have an endless array of repackaged and up-marketed cuisines available to us whenever we want.
And yet, Tamale Lady is not on Twitter. She doesn't Instagram selfies from a food cart pod, nor is she jockeying for a slot selling her unsanctioned food at Timbers or Blazers games.
She presents a rare opportunity for middle class white kids to try authentic ethnic food that is exotic and novel-- but to also purchase these goods in an exotic and novel manner using cash money.
Furthermore, this transaction is relatively nonthreatening to the middle class white kids, who are easily frightened by people that are racially and economically dissimilar to themselves.
And therefore, everybody wins. Tamale Lady gets money, middle class white kids get to bond with one another over the exotic, novel, handcrafted and "totally under the radar" street food and the authentic interaction they all had. "Way to be so open minded," they say, slapping each other on the back and toasting cans of Pabst.
I/A you've obviously got pretty ballistic bowels. Better re-think gobbling tamales of any origin.