Here's a photo about the tamale that never was.
It required all the restraint I could muster to resist buying a tamale from this industrious little woman. Her corner was the popular stop on the town square and received a steady stream of hearty endorsement from the locals. I was slavering to experience firsthand what the fuss was all about.
And, if my traveling companion hadn't on his last visit to Peru brought home his very own resident tapeworm from such a liaison, I may have thrown caution to the Peruvian wind. As it is, he's weaved one too many colorful tales about the fettuccine-like parasite that wound its way onto his fork, into his belly, through airport security, and back home with him to the United States. The rest of the story...is in the toilet.
So I exchanged the short-term pleasure of an authentic Peruvian tamale for ten minutes of admiring a successful business woman manage her roadside restaurant. I took her photo, coveted from afar the meal I would never eat, and gave her a Neuvo Sol for the pleasure of it all.
And hopefully, will arrive home parasite free.
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