As much as I love to complain-blog about the lunch scene surrounding my fabulous New York City advertising job in West Chelsea—light years from the Qdobas, Chipotles, and Bajas Fresh of Midtown, it’s just art galleries, gyms, and Scores over here—there was always the promise of the Tamale Man. I’d seen him pushing his cart a few times before the holidays, occasionally RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY BUILDING, but without fail I had either A) already made plans for lunch or B) already eaten lunch. I know! Right?

I figured the cold snap had scared him away until the spring, but today, as luck would have it, I saw him on my way to work and knew that yes, today would be the day I would try the tamales.

As you can see, I hated them.