At long last, on Friday night, I attended my first tamale-making party.

Ever since my daughter Elizabeth got married nearly 15 years ago, I’ve wanted to participate in the annual holiday tamale-making tradition of my son-in-law Ray’s family.

Somehow, though, the timing was never right. Either I was working, or I was out of town, or some other event was happening that got in the way. Oh, and then there was COVID-19.

This year, though, the stars aligned after the week’s torrential rains, and I was in.

I’ve made a lotta latkes in my life, a ton of Christmas cookies and even some crafted pisanki eggs, but so far, no tamales. (Yes, I know pisanki eggs are for Easter, not Christmas.)

Full disclosure, though, and I am a bit embarrassed to admit it, but for the longest time (and I bet I’m not the only one), I wasn’t totally sure what to do with the tamale husk. Do you eat it or not?

This year’s tamale-making extravaganza took place at the home of Ray’s cousins, Christen Barajas Zampese and Jeff Zampese. Arriving guests were greeted by a festive Christmas tree that was surrounded by boxes of brightly wrapped gifts just inside the front door.

A gaggle of relatives either sat chatting by a cozy fireplace or drifted in and out of the kitchen getting plates of hot dogs, hot wings and French fries. Unfortunately, the tamales wouldn’t be fully ready to eat until Christmas Day.

In the living room, on a long picnic-style table, were all the trappings for preparing tamales:

• A huge pot filled with steamed corn husks
• A big bowl of masa (ground cornmeal made into a thick, white paste)
• A medium-size bowl filled with shredded cheese
• A platter of cooked green chilis (seeds removed, but a little slimy)
• A bowl of shredded cooked chicken
• A bowl of shredded cooked pork

My daughter’s mother-in-law, Ana Maynez — assuring me the task at hand was easy — offered detailed instructions for assembling tamales:

Take a corn husk; flatten it out and hold it in one hand, or lay it on the table; then smear a thin layer of masa over the wider half of the husk. Next, place a green chili on top of the masa; sprinkle cheese over that, and finally add a little of the chicken.

If you’ve done that correctly (which I did — uh, most of the time), you roll the husk lengthwise to seal it, and fold the thinner part of the husk up from the bottom to close the whole shebang. The completed tamales eventually will be steamed for a few hours in a pot on the stovetop to melt the cheese and lock in the flavors.

For the vegetarians, vegans and other non-carnivores in the crowd, there are special-order tamales. Some without pork or chicken; some sans cheese; and a few hold-everything-except-the-masa, thank you.

About a half-dozen women worked on the tamales most of the evening which, for me, begged the question: What about the men? Do they help, too?

The short answer was no. They talk, eat and enjoy the family camaraderie. To give credit where it’s due, some of the guys do the lion’s share of the prep work — steaming the corn husks and shredding, seasoning and cooking the pork and chicken.

When Ray came in and put together one tamale, everyone cheered. Don’t get me wrong; Ray is actually a very good cook. I guess Christmas tamales are still a women’s domain.

As the tamale-making continued, and more heaping bowls of ingredients were brought in to replace the empty ones, a couple of generations of cousins reminisced about the custom they are carrying on from their mother and grandmother Angelina, who likely carried it forward from her mother and grandmother.

Christen recalled how, in years past, her grandmother would quietly peer over her shoulder, nodding her head and indicating a little more of this or a little less of that as the women lovingly assembled their tamales.

This year, the youngest family members are still a bit too small to lend a hand in the tamale-making process, but most likely by next Christmas their mothers, grandmothers and aunties will be passing this family holiday tradition into their capable little hands.

P.S. In case you were wondering, you don’t eat the husks!