Food and taste are cyclical in a person's life. A dish that is a hands-down favorite in your childhood may not seem so desirable as an adult. Take scrambled eggs. These were my favorite childhood breakfast, but once I was a teenager I detested their wobbly texture and thought their odor was slightly sulfuric. Then, when I was pregnant, I couldn't seem to eat enough scrambled eggs.

So what does this have to do with tamale pie? Everything. You see tamale pie is one of those dishes many of us loved in our youth, but then either forgot about or hated once we were in our 20s. The whole casserole thing belonged to a time of culinary naiveté from the 70s and 80s, and so we tucked the thought of tamale pie away with deviled eggs and Jell-O.

But now that I'm a mom trying to find new meals for my kids to eat, I have finally come full circle. What seemed unsophisticated a few years ago now seems like a completely legitimate dinner for a family with two kids. There is nothing urbane or refined about a weekday meal crammed in between homework and Girl Scouts and a quick casserole that is full of nutritious ingredients your kids will eat without complaint is the only appeal you need. From Creamy Chicken and Rice Casserole to Cheesy Enchilada Casserole, my weekday meals are relying more and more on one-dish recipes that fall into the category of comfort food and are easy on a kid's tongue. Bring on the casseroles and pass the sour cream!

Here's my Half-the-Meat Tamale Pie recipe. Unlike other similar casseroles, this one uses only a half-pound of meat (either beef or turkey is fine) plus two cups of whole beans. This makes it not only more heart healthy, but also incredibly inexpensive. The entire dinner for four to six people costs about $10 to make and includes fresh vegetables like Anaheim peppers and whole kernels of corn. It's also a dish my children love, and I have to say that although I wouldn't have made this dish in my 20s, I am rather fond of it now.

Imagine Julia Child in her 80s, all six-feet two inches of her, standing in line to get tamales outside a worn-out white shack with teal trim in Santa Barbara. If you think of Julia Child as the grand dame of culinary sophistication in the United States, this may seem hard to imagine. But if you think of Ms. Child as a true foodie, ready to seek out and experience cooking in its essence in the most unlikely of places, this image makes perfect sense.

There is some disagreement, however, as to whether or not the beloved Julia was right about the taco shop itself -- La Super-Rica Taqueria. There are some out there who say its fame is undeserved. To them I say bah. Julia Child was as discerning an eater as she was a cook. Her love of La Super-Rica was warranted and that long line out the door is worth standing in.

The dilapidated appearance of La Super-Rica may turn off some, but it is fine with me. I grew up in San Diego and am used to frequenting run-down taco shops, so the décor of plastic tables and chairs in a dining area that looks more like a car port than a restaurant doesn't bother me. What does impress me, however, is the woman with the grandmotherly appearance who makes handmade tortilla after handmade tortilla behind the counter. Standing steadfastly a few feet behind the cash register -- grabbing wads of fresh masa, rolling them into a ball, smashing them between a tortilla presser and finally grilling them on a primitive stove next to her -- her hands never seem to stop. And those tortillas are just one of the reasons La Super-Rica deserves its fame. They are crisp on the outside but with a center that tastes gently steamed. Freshly cooked just moments before they are eaten, they are sublime.

My favorite dish, however, is the tamale, and rumor has it this was Julia Child's favorite menu item as well. While most tamales are densely packed with coarse masa and pork, the tamales at La Super-Rica are tender and almost velvety. I don't know what they put in their masa, but its buttery texture and gentle corn flavor melts on the tongue. Stuffed usually with vegetables in a mild sauce, it is the ultimate comfort food. When I was there last week, I had the daily tamale special: masa stuffed with chayote, corn, zucchini, potato and chile strips topped with a mildy-spiced crema. Wow.

The tacos are simple and straightforward: seasoned and grilled meats on those amazing handmade tortillas. That's it unless you order something like the Super Rica Especial, which is a combination of roasted pasilla peppers, cheese and pork. This is one of my favorite tacos. If you are looking for a traditional crunchy taco with lots of cumin, cheddar cheese and sour cream, this is not the place for you. But if you want a taco that is uncomplicated and unaffected, simply grilled meat atop a lovingly made tortilla, you're in luck.

There are many other items on the menu, such as the gorditas -- masa stuffed with spicy refried beans and then grilled -- as well as a variety of different types of tacos and quesadillas. La Super-Rica also offers daily specials, and I think those amazing tamales are only available on the weekends, so plan your trip accordingly if you want to try them. I hear they serve pozole on Sundays, but have never been there that day, so am not sure of this. Keep in mind this place is in no way fancy. The seating is backyard chic and the food is served on Styrofoam throw-away plates (yes, I know, Styrofoam!). It is, however, very family friendly and also pretty inexpensive. I bought plenty of food for the four of us, plus drinks, and spent only $28.17.

I realize that La Super-Rica is a five-hour drive from the Bay Area, but if you're visiting Santa Barbara and in the mood for wonderful homemade Mexican food, I highly recommend this small taco shack. I think Julia recognized that it's the sort of place where the owners take pride in what they do, and I couldn't concur more.

La Super-Rica Taqueria
622 N Milpas St.
Map
Santa Barbara, CA 93103

Slim as a finger or big as a fist, wrapped in papery corn husks or supple banana leaves, sweet as spring or spicy as summer -- the humble tamal in all its forms and flavors has become the star of an annual fundraising event in San Francisco. Taste of Tamales By the Bay will be coming again to the Fort Mason Center on Sunday, April 26, 2009.

During the rest of the year, the organizers of the event, the Benchmark Institute, helps develop better quality legal services to low-income communities. With an office in San Francisco's Mission District and with a potent blend of inspiration and hard work, their staff have proved tamales to be as unifying as they are fortifying.

I can still remember the first time I succumbed, one sunny day on a San Francisco sidewalk, to the low and furtive murmur of "hot tamales, hot tamales." Without a word, I followed a man to a minivan parked at the curb. Inside, his wife and teenaged daughter dug into their secret stash, kept warmly bundled inside 5-gallon buckets covered with thick towels. One pork, one chicken. I found a fire hydrant to lean on and ate both tamales straight out of the plastic. That red minivan still appears in my dreams.

So with much excitement, I’m heading to the Taste of Tamales festival. A wide variety of vendors will offer tamales and other tamale-friendly treats, such as hand-fried plantain chips by Estrellita’s Snacks, heritage beans both cooked and uncooked from Rancho Gordo, and coffee by Mama Art Cafe. In between all the tasting, you can browse gifts like colorful tile paintings from Suha Suha Studio or books new and old on Mexican and Southwestern cooking from Omnivore Books.

The margarita competition should be as fun to watch as taste. Family-friendly events include storytelling sessions and a tamale-making demonstration.

Those fascinated by how cuisines crossed the oceans can stop by the stage for my presentation, South By Southeast Asia: Tamales in the Philippines and Guam. Filipinos sailors manned the first Spanish ships that landed on our coast, while the Manila-Acapulco galleons directly connected Mexico to Asia long before California even appeared on maps. I'll be showing how corn deliciousness wrapped inside a leaf moved and morphed across 7,000 islands in Southeast Asia to mash up in Manila with its Chinese counterpart. Along with cheese and pork, peanuts and coconut milk made their way into the post-colonial tamal. For the first couple of hundred who arrive at the talk, there'll be tastings of these unique versions of tamales still enjoyed in the far-reaching Pacific archipelago.

A detailed schedule will be posted soon. In the meantime, mark your calendars for the last Sunday in April. You might want to skip breakfast that day.

Taste of Tamales By the Bay
Sunday, April 26, 2009
12:00 noon – 4:30 PM
Fort Mason Center
Buchanan St. at Marina Blvd.
San Francisco, CA 94123
Map
Conference Center, Landmark Building A

When I was in college, in the dark days before email and Facebook, my roommates and I passed our time with more mundane matters. Like food. From Juli, I learned about Japanese-style curry. Rie taught me how to blanche green beans perfectly, while Ed opened my palate to an entire pantheon of slow-simmered soups. Pierrette's trick with tuna and egg salad--grating onion into the mayonnaise--still perks up my sandwiches.

From Maria, though, I learned the most important lessons: cooking with my senses.

While I watched, Maria made tortillas with handfuls of flour and finger-lengths of shortening. Growing up in Texas, she had to wake up early every morning to make the family's tortillas, forty on an average day and maybe a hundred or so for special Sundays. She grabbed an empty wine bottle whenever she needed to roll out dough, and from only two pans she made incredible feasts for our house. None of us would admit to being homesick, but listening to Maria talk about her food and then eating her meals made all of us feel like we actually belonged in that drafty, tumble-down, New England house.

I don't have any of her recipes, because she never wrote them down, but like stories and memories, I can recite them just as she did.

"In San Antonio, where my family lives, you can find bags of masa dough in the markets. My mother doesn't need to make her own anymore. We use Crisco now, but if you want, you can use lard or butter. Even oil. But I would never use oil. Why make tamales with oil? If you don't have chicken stock, some water from the tap is good. Just remember to add salt then."

"Be sure to open the middle of the husks when you soak them and put a plate on top, so they can get wet equally. Save the biggest ones for wrapping. The smaller ones, just tear like this into ribbons for tying."

"Mix together a six handfuls of masa, two handfuls of Crisco, the same amount of stock and some salt. Blend them together really well. We use a mixer at home. You can tell when you have the right combination when a little ball of the dough floats in water."

"You can fill them with anything really. We use pork that my mother cooks, but here at school I put all kinds of things in them. Today, I took some of the sweet potatoes from the cafeteria." [In the photo, you can see a dollop of chipotle sauce that I now like to add to my sweet potato tamales, plus a sprinkling of kosher salt. After sweet potatoes or yams are roasted whole, their peels slip right off; mash with a fork.]

"Spread a little bit of the dough on the corn leaf, enough to cover a third of it. When you put the filling on, be sure to leave a little of the dough peeking around the edges, so that it will close up well." [In this recent version, I topped the sweet potatoes with some grated pepper jack cheese tossed with sliced scallions.]

"Fold the leaf in thirds, like a letter, then bend up the end. Tie it, if you want. Or, if you are making a lot, you can just put them down close together and they will keep each other closed. You need to steam them for a long time, longer than you really want. Open one and try it to see if it's done. They like it if you put a towel over them while they steam. [Chinese bamboo or metal stackable steamers are perfect for steaming tamales in single layers. Small tamales require 40 minutes and larger ones up to 1 1/2 or 2 hours to cook through.]