Tamales with bean filling

Traditional Mesoamerican masa dumplings filled with black beans

Origin: Mesoamerica (Mexico, Guatemala, Belize)

From the journey of Beans.

Tamales are among the oldest prepared foods in the Americas (archaeological evidence of tamale production in Mesoamerica dates to at least 8,000–9,000 BCE, predating even the full domestication of maize. They were sacred food in Aztec and Maya civilisations: offered to the gods, eaten at every major festival, and described in detail in the Aztec codices. Aztec tamale fillings included beans, squash, turkey, chilli, and even frogs and insect larvae. The bean-filled tamal is the most ancient of all) beans (Phaseolus vulgaris) were domesticated in Mesoamerica alongside maize and squash as the Three Sisters, and their combination in a masa (nixtamalised maize dough) parcel is a direct culinary expression of that agricultural trinity. Tamales are labour-intensive by design: traditionally made communally by women (tamaleras) for celebrations, market days, and religious feasts. To share in tamale-making is to participate in one of the most ancient and continuous culinary traditions in human history. The black bean and chilli filling remains the simplest and most archetypal, almost identical in spirit to what a Aztec cook would have prepared three thousand years ago.

Ingredients

Wrapper

  • 16 dried corn husks, soaked in warm water for at least 1 hour until pliable

Dough

  • 500 g masa harina (nixtamalised corn flour, such as Maseca), or fresh masa if available
  • 120 g lard or vegetable shortening (or refined coconut oil for vegan)
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp baking powder
  • 400 ml warm chicken or vegetable stock (or water)

Filling

  • 400 g cooked black beans, drained (reserve some liquid)
  • 2 tbsp vegetable oil
  • 0.5 small white onion, finely diced
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 dried ancho or guajillo chillies, toasted, soaked, and blended (or 2 tbsp chipotle paste)
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • 0.5 tsp salt, or to taste

Method

  1. Soak the corn husks: place them in a large bowl or sink filled with warm water. Weigh them down with a plate. Soak for at least 1 hour until they are soft, pliable, and easy to fold without cracking. Pat dry before using.
  2. Make the bean filling: heat the oil in a frying pan over medium heat. Cook the onion for 6 minutes until soft. Add the garlic, cumin, and blended chilli paste. Cook for 2 minutes. Add the beans and roughly mash about half of them, leaving the rest whole. Season with salt. The filling should be thick and cohesive, not watery. Set aside to cool.
  3. Make the masa dough: beat the lard or shortening with a hand mixer (or by hand) until fluffy and pale (about 3 minutes. In a separate bowl, combine the masa harina, salt, and baking powder. Add the masa mixture to the fat in two additions, alternating with the warm stock, beating between each addition. Beat the final dough for 5 minutes until it is light and smooth. Test: drop a small ball into a glass of water) if it floats, the dough is aerated enough.
  4. Assemble the tamales: lay a corn husk flat, wider end toward you. Spread about 3 tablespoons of masa dough in the centre, forming a rough rectangle about 10 × 8 cm and 5mm thick, leaving a 3cm border on the sides and bottom, and a larger border at the top.
  5. Spoon 1–2 tablespoons of the bean filling down the centre of the masa rectangle. Fold one long side of the husk over the filling so the masa edges seal around it, then fold the other side over. Fold the empty pointed end of the husk up and under to close the bottom. Arrange standing upright, open end up, in a steamer basket.
  6. Steam the tamales: fill a large pot with 5–6cm of water and bring to a boil. Place the steamer basket over the water (the tamales should not touch the water). Cover tightly and steam for 70–75 minutes, checking the water level every 20 minutes and adding more if needed.
  7. Remove from the steamer and allow to rest for 5–10 minutes before serving: the masa continues to firm up off the heat. Serve in the husk and let each person unwrap their own.

Notes

Tamales freeze exceptionally well: once fully cooled, wrap individually in cling film and freeze for up to 3 months. Reheat from frozen by steaming for 20–25 minutes. Bean-filled tamales are naturally vegan when made with vegetable shortening or coconut oil and vegetable stock. For a richer, more traditional filling, add a spoonful of crumbled queso fresco or a strip of roasted poblano to each tamal before folding.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1650s
Drag to explore journey
16 of 16 stops
1654 CE
7000 BCE14931530s1650s
Beans

Beans

Phaseolus vulgaris

Grains & LegumesLegumes

🌍Origin

Mesoamerica, Andes & Peruvian Coast (four independent domestications) — c. 7000 BCE

🌱Domestication

The beans that feed the world today are overwhelmingly Phaseolus vulgaris, the common bean, and one of the most striking facts of their natural history is that they were domesticated not once but twice, in two distant lands, from two genetically distinct wild populations of the same species. In the highlands of Mexico and Central America, around 7,000 BCE, the early farming peoples selected wild P. vulgaris to produce what botanists call the Middle American gene pool, the lineage that gives us the black bean, the pinto, the navy or haricot bean, and the small Mesoamerican varieties. Simultaneously and entirely independently, far to the south, the communities of the Andean highlands of Peru and Bolivia domesticated a second, genetically separate population of the same wild bean around 6,000 BCE, producing the Andean gene pool, the lineage of the large kidney bean, the cannellini, and the Peruvian canary bean. The two stocks evolved in isolation from one another for many thousands of years, diverging in seed size, colour, and growth habit, before any human being carried one to meet the other. The common bean was, from the beginning, a partner crop rather than a solitary one. Across the Americas it was sown as one of the Three Sisters, the companion planting in which maize provided a living pole for the bean vines to climb, the beans fixed atmospheric nitrogen into the soil through the bacteria in their roots and so replenished the ground the hungry maize exhausted, and the broad leaves of the squash shaded out the weeds and held the moisture in the earth. The nutritional logic was as elegant as the agronomic one, for maize and beans eaten together supply between them a fuller complement of amino acids than either does alone, the bean's protein completing the grain's. Both American lineages of P. vulgaris crossed to Europe with the Columbian Exchange between the 1490s and the 1530s, and almost every common bean eaten anywhere in the world today descends from these two American origins. They should not be confused with the other plants that English carelessly calls beans: the fava or broad bean (Vicia faba), the mung and adzuki beans (Vigna radiata and V. angularis), and the soybean (Glycine max) are entirely separate genera with their own deep and independent histories across the Old World, cultivated there for thousands of years before the American bean arrived to take their ancient name.

Global Voyage

Phaseolus vulgaris arrived in Europe through two channels at very nearly the same moment. Spanish explorers returning from the Caribbean and the Spanish Main after 1492 brought home the seeds of the Mesoamerican varieties, whilst Portuguese navigators and traders, working the Atlantic coast of South America after Cabral's landfall in Brazil in 1500, carried the Andean varieties, the great kidney beans amongst them, back to Lisbon. Within a single generation both lineages had taken root in the gardens of Spain and Portugal, and within two they had spread through the Italian peninsula, into France, and as far as the Ottoman court. The speed of the bean's adoption was extraordinary, far swifter than the long, suspicious reception accorded the tomato or the potato, and the reason lay in its sheer usefulness: the dried bean was lighter than meat, cheaper than fish, storable for years without salting or smoking, and nutritionally rich enough to carry a labouring population through the winter. In an age perpetually shadowed by dearth, here was a protein that kept indefinitely in a sack, and Europe seized upon it. The American bean travelled outward from Iberia along the trade routes of the two colonial empires almost as fast as it had crossed the Atlantic. Portuguese maritime traders carried dried beans as ship's provisions down their established West African circuits, planting them in the Cape Verde islands by 1495 and on the Senegambian mainland soon after, where the newcomer joined the ancient indigenous cowpea in the cooking of the Wolof, the Akan, and the peoples of the Guinea coast. The same Portuguese networks carried the kidney bean east around the Cape to the Malabar coast and the colony at Goa, from which it travelled north into the Punjab to become rajma; and overland and maritime routes brought P. vulgaris to China by the 1620s and to Japan, where a Chinese monk introduced the related runner bean in 1654. Wherever it arrived, the bean did not merely survive but was naturalised so completely that its foreign origin was forgotten, taking on the spices and the cooking methods of each new home and becoming, in turn, the rajma of the Punjab, the feijão of Brazil and Portugal, the haricot of the French cassoulet, the fagioli of Tuscany, the waakye bean of Ghana, and the akara of Senegal. Few plants have ever travelled so far so fast, or disguised themselves so thoroughly as a native of everywhere.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

Phaseolus vulgaris is the most widely consumed bean on the planet, an everyday staple across Latin America, the Mediterranean, West Africa, South Asia, and beyond, and the quiet protein of more poor and prosperous kitchens than almost any other single food. Its two American gene pools, the Mesoamerican and the Andean, together underpin thousands of regional dishes under dozens of local names, so many that the same humble seed appears scarcely recognisable from one country to the next: the black bean simmered into the frijoles de la olla of Mexico and the feijoada of Brazil; the kidney bean slow-cooked with spice into the rajma of Delhi's street stalls and stewed with pork into the fabada of Asturias; the white cannellini of Tuscan ribollita; the haricot of the contested cassoulet of Languedoc; the navy bean of Boston's molasses-dark baked beans; the waakye bean of the Ghanaian roadside. In each the bean has absorbed the local seasoning so completely that its common American ancestry is all but invisible. The wider family to which the common bean lends its English name encompasses several other species of global importance, each older in the Old World than P. vulgaris by thousands of years: the fava or broad bean (Vicia faba) of the ancient Mediterranean, the mung bean (Vigna radiata) and adzuki (Vigna angularis) of monsoon Asia, and the soybean (Glycine max) of East Asia, whose ferments and curds form a civilisation of their own. In the twenty-first century the bean has acquired a new prominence. As the environmental and nutritional case for plant proteins moves to the centre of debate, the legume has been rediscovered as one of the most complete and ecologically efficient foods available to humanity: high in protein and fibre, low in fat, cheap to grow, and uniquely capable, through its nitrogen-fixing roots, of enriching rather than exhausting the soil it grows in. The food that the Tuscans once dismissed as la carne dei poveri, the meat of the poor, is now reckoned amongst the most quietly important crops on earth.

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