my kosher tamale

i call him Herschel and he served me the best homemade tamales i've ever had.... with the exception of my own.

he and his wife, who looked over her glasses and nodded a lot, ran this tasty little mexican restaurant in chicago.

Missy and i stopped there for lunch on our way to the art institute. it was lunch hour and the place wasn't slammed, but the pace was "chop-chop". behind Herschel and his wife were a trio of gentleman who were whipping up platters.

we weren't sure what we wanted. i was insanely distracted by this man flitting around and barking out "what'll you have? you want the combo? you like tamales?"

i couldn't read the menu if you forced me. as long as this guy was doing his thing with that intensely thick accent, i was glued to him and would've bought anything he was selling-- i did, indeed, want the tamales.

i honestly don't know how i got this shot of him... he never stopped. i tried not to let him see me lift my camera. i didn't want his attention, only to watch him. if i'd had video, you'd be rolling. what a hoot!

i call him Herschel because he was kind. in five minutes, i knew that he would treat me like a daughter. that sort of kindness reminded me of another Herschel that i once knew.

i was working as director of catering at a hotel in clayton, and we signed a giant wedding--an orthodox wedding. working at that hotel, i learned nearly everything i know about keeping kosher and the traditions, rituals and perspective on life from orthodox judaism--thanks to Mr. Herschel Raskas.

i could never properly express my gratitude to him, no matter how many times i thanked him. he made an impression on me that is as fresh today as when i knew him in 1993. he was patient and explained the background on everything that his wife requested. he saw the blank look on my face and recognized my eagerness to learn and understand as he began to explain.

when Herschel of the Tamales, looked at me and asked me "you want the tamale combo, don't you" for the second time, he had that same sparkle in his eye.

if it hadn't been the lunch hour and we weren't in hurry to get to all the wonderful art, i'd have spent the afternoon learning how Mr. Herschel here had become the proprietor of a mexican restaurant.