No, not ON the streets, I mean, vendors... sheesh.
There is this woman, I've no idea what her name is... we communicate by me saying "Dos" (yes, I've added another word to my vocabulary) and her saying "Quatro dollars"....and we exchange money for the best tamales I've ever put into this mouth, ever.
They are wrapped in banana leaves, then in foil...you get them still hot, with the masa just the right texture, and the meat..whatever it is, I didn't ask... is flavoured so that you wish you'd bought more than dos.
I always remember the story my dad told of the tamale store in Monroe, Louisiana when he was a kid... he'd get his paycheque from delivering papers, and take a dollar to buy a bakers dozen, eating one on the way home. They were closed down when it was discovered they were buying dead horses. He maintained they were the best tamales, ever. Of course, he also ate dog in Korea...so, he wasn't too picky.
She asks if I want the picante... and gives me a sly grin...I can barely get the regular ones down. I eat them with a quart of milk to coat my throat... my stomach asks me what in the hell I'm doing, my lips burn, and I know I'll be burping all evening.
It's SO worth every single bite.