Banana Leaf Tamales: 

When I moved back to Arizona from San Francisco, I was searching for something more profound—a sense of home, a connection to my roots, and a way to share my love of food with others. I found seeds of these wants in Superior, Arizona, a small desert town that welcomed me as I opened a little restaurant and changed the trajectory of my life. The restaurant, which I named Triple C, quickly became more than a place to eat; it became a space for community, stories, and traditions to flourish. The "C" stands for Coffee, Culture, and Community. With proceeds from the Cafe, I began hosting cultural exchanges with the San Carlos Apache, the local Latino community, and sponsoring many kids' events in the town.

One of the most meaningful chapters of my life unfolded when I began hosting cultural dinners. These gatherings celebrated not just food but the rich heritage and stories that come with it. Among them, one dinner holds a special place in my heart. I invited a dear friend from Oaxaca, a fifth-generation curandera with a profound knowledge of over 5,000 medicinal plants. Her wisdom was staggering, but what truly moved me was her generosity—her willingness to share her world with me.

We spent countless hours talking about plants, their healing properties, and how they weave into our lives and traditions. Those conversations became a book we compiled, including some of her stories, a living archive of her plant stories,  and a source of deep personal transformation for me.

The dinner we hosted was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It wasn’t at my restaurant but in the heart of my home in Superior. My friend and her daughters brought the Oaxacan tradition to life, preparing an extraordinary meal over an open fire. The centerpiece was banana leaf tamales, crafted with love and care that you could feel in every bite.

As we worked together in the kitchen, she spoke of the plants as if they were old friends—explaining their gifts, sacrifices, and the healing they offer. She taught me that food is medicine in its purest form, a bridge between the earth and our bodies. Preparing a meal, she said, is an act of gratitude, a way of honoring the ingredients and the hands that bring them to life.

That evening wasn’t just a meal but a celebration of connection, healing, and the beauty of shared traditions. As I watched her daughters laugh and cook alongside her, I felt the weight of her belief in me. She saw something in me that I hadn’t fully seen in myself yet, and her guidance gave me the courage to embrace the idea that food is more than sustenance.

Now, whenever I prepare banana leaf tamales, I think of her. The process is slow and deliberate, requiring patience and care. Each step feels sacred—the softening of the banana leaves over the flame, the preparation of the mole,  the kneading of the masa, and the folding of each tamal. It’s a ritual that connects me to her wisdom and reminds me of the healing power of food and community.

If you’ve never made banana leaf tamales, I encourage you to try them. They’re a testament to the stories and traditions we carry and for me, they’re a reminder of that unforgettable night, the teachings of my friend, and the belief that the simplest acts of care can be the most profound.


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