But...
Rejoice! For a tamale man has appeared on my corner. As seen in the surveilance-style photo above, his cart is parked in perfect proximity for me to devour his delicious tamales at whim. Filled with braised pork and green or red chile sauce, they were perfect when I discovered them, out and about on a chilly, misty, gray day. Not that good tamales are difficult to find in Chicago, but to have a guy on the corner is golden. Here's hoping he gets no grief from the dreaded food police. Nothing keeps you warm on a day like today in quite the same fashion as walking home with a bag full of warm tamales as you hastily unwrap one from it's corn husk, releasing a puff of spicy steam as you bring it to your mouth and dig in...
Yeah; this'll stave off my Wicker Park blues, even if only for a little while.
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