Roosevelt Tamale Parlor
The last time we went out to dinner was with uncle Adam the week after Thanksgiving. We went with Rara to Roosevelt Tamale Parlor on 24th Street. It’s hard not to be attracted by Roosevelt Tamale Parlor’s great neon sign and warm lighting. And then there is the historical nostalgia of naming a restaurant after a president. I have no idea why it took us so long to get there. But once again it seemed like we finally made it to an old school restaurant only after a new owner had refurbished it. After doing a bit of research I found that the restaurant dates back to 1922. Although there are new owners I read that one of them was the former cook of 20 years. It made me feel better about the change. I just didn’t want it to be another St. Francis Fountain taken over by hipsters.
The menu seemed classic—it had to be the same as it ever was. But we were a little concerned when we were the only customers for most of the evening. It had the slight air of a failing restaurant. While we were waiting for Rara we started with some guacamole that came on an elevated dish that Vida really liked. She liked it so much and was so cranky that she was insisting that the entire thing was hers and growled when we tried to approach the guacamole with our chips. We had to stick to the dish of salsa while she was looking. The Seven-Up wasn’t really helping her mood either which didn’t change until Rara walked through the door. Uncle Adam and I breathed a sigh of relief and started to relax a little, the threat of a complete meltdown having been averted.
We ordered their house specialty meat tamales along with some vegetable tamale and some rice and refried beans for Vida. The meat tamales were impressive. I had never seen a round tamale—shows what I know. It was delicious. The veggie tamales were in the more typical rectangular shape and not quite as impressive. Vida dug into the beans and when our server came over brazenly asked him for some more. He was very good-natured about her acting as if the restaurant was her own kitchen. He took her plate and returned with it refilled with beans. She was ecstatic. She didn’t eat any of the rice, which I was confused about until a few weeks later. My friend B took Vida and her daughter P out for a bite to eat after school. We had planned to go to Sai Jai Thai later and she didn’t think her daughter would make it that long without food. Vida was perfectly happy to go along. She asked for beans and rice but according to B she didn’t touch the rice (which she felt compelled to eat much to her chagrin). She asked Vida why she didn’t just order beans and she answered that she needed the rice to hold up the beans.
The beans and rice anecdote reminds me that recently Vida has begun to tell me about things I have done that have embarrassed her in the past. In kindergarten last year they had an easel that the teachers and sometimes the kids would write down what they were thinking about or things they had done or were going to do. When I dropped Vida off in the morning I would look for the things she had said. Most of the kids said things along the lines of “I had a play date with ______”. But one time Vida had the teacher write, “my mom and me are rich”. When I saw that I instinctually laughed—I thought it was so incredible and I couldn’t help think deeply about what that meant to her and what it meant to me. She didn’t like my reaction but since there was only one other person there I didn’t think much of it until she reminded me about a year later.
Vida had been talking about these vending machine toys called “peek-a-poohs”. I had no concept of what she was talking about. Her description of where we could find them was based on another child’s directions---something about the “place where you can get sugar skulls” near the Mission Cultural Center. After dinner at Roosevelt Tamale Parlor I decided that I was going to find these things for her. We drove around the area looking for vending machines in front of the stores along 24th Street and Mission Street. It was getting late and a lot of the machines were already pulled into the stores. We finally saw a promising location and I double-parked on a very busy part of Mission Street. We pooled our quarters and sent Vida and Uncle Adam out for the quarry. When they got back into the car with the little Winnie the Pooh characters in little plastic containers it felt a little like we had sent them out to rob a convenience store. Vida happily admired her Christmas themed Winnie the Poohs and told us based on some markings which ones her and were not “rare”. Maybe one of them will make us rich.
Restaurant Total: 222
