I still remember the first time I helped make tamales. I was maybe eight years old, standing on a wobbly stool in my Abuela’s kitchen, my tiny hands covered in masa that felt like wet sand. She’d been making them since before sunrise, and the air was thick with the smell of simmering chicken and toasted chiles. I was useless—my tamales came out lopsided, too thin in some spots, bulging in others—but she just smiled and patted my cheek with her flour-dusted hand.
“That one’s for you, mija,” she’d say, pointing to my misshapen creation. “The ugly ones always taste the best.”
Twenty years later, I still believe that. I’ve made chicken tamales more times than I can count—for Christmas Eve gatherings, for Super Bowl parties, for random Tuesdays when I’m craving a taste of home. And let me tell you: I’ve had plenty of disasters. Tamales that fell apart in the steamer. Filling that was too dry. Masa that was so dense you could’ve used it as a doorstop. But each failure taught me something, and now? Now I can roll these beauties in my sleep.
This isn’t a quick recipe. I want to be honest with you about that upfront. Tamales are a project—the kind of cooking that demands an afternoon, a good playlist, and maybe a glass of wine. But here’s the thing: they’re also one of the most rewarding things you’ll ever make. When you unwrap that corn husk and see a perfect, steaming tamale, fluffy and fragrant, filled with tender shredded chicken in a rich, smoky sauce? Pure magic.
Why You’ll Love This Recipe
- It’s a celebration on a plate. Tamales aren’t just food; they’re an event. Making them feels special, and eating them feels even better.
- The filling is incredibly forgiving. Too much sauce? Too little? The masa can handle it. This recipe is flexible enough for beginners.
- You’ll impress everyone. There’s something about homemade tamales that makes people’s eyes go wide. They think you’re a kitchen wizard. (Let them believe it.)
- They freeze like a dream. Make a huge batch, freeze half, and thank yourself later when you’re craving tamales at 10 PM.
- That homemade masa is a game-changer. I’ve tried the premade stuff, and it’s fine—but homemade is on another level. Trust me.
Ingredients
For the Filling (The Heart of the Tamale)
- 2 ½ pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs (or a mix of thighs and breasts—thighs stay juicier)
- 8 cups chicken broth (low-sodium if you’re watching salt—you can always add more later)
- 1 medium white onion, roughly chopped
- 4 cloves garlic, smashed
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 teaspoon salt (plus more to taste)
- 5 dried guajillo chiles, stems and seeds removed
- 3 dried ancho chiles, stems and seeds removed
- 2 chipotle chiles in adobo sauce (plus a spoonful of the sauce)
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano (regular oregano works in a pinch)
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- Salt and pepper to taste
For the Masa Dough (The Soul of the Tamale)
- 4 cups masa harina (Maseca is my go-to brand—it’s widely available and reliable)
- 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
- 1 ½ teaspoons salt
- 1 cup lard or vegetable shortening (I know, I know—but lard gives the best texture. If you’re veg, use shortening)
- 3 to 3 ½ cups warm chicken broth (from the pot where you cooked the chicken—use that liquid gold!)
- 1 teaspoon salt (for the masa)
For Assembly
- About 40 dried corn husks (you’ll find these in the Latin section of most grocery stores)
- Optional: 1 cup shredded cheese (Monterey Jack or queso fresco for a cheesy twist—my kids love this version)
For Serving
- Salsa verde or your favorite hot sauce
- Crema or sour cream
- Chopped fresh cilantro
- Lime wedges
Let’s Get Cooking
Step 1: Prep Those Corn Husks
Start by placing your dried corn husks in a large bowl or your kitchen sink. Cover them with hot water and weigh them down with a heavy plate or pot lid so they stay submerged. Let them soak for at least 2 hours—I usually do this first thing so they’re ready when I am. The husks need to soften and become pliable, like thick fabric. If they’re still stiff, they’ll crack when you try to fold them.
Pro tip: If you’re in a hurry, you can soak them in boiling water for 30 minutes. Just make sure to drain and pat them dry before using.
Step 2: Cook the Chicken—The Easy Part
In a large Dutch oven or heavy pot, combine your chicken thighs, 8 cups of chicken broth, the roughly chopped onion, smashed garlic, bay leaves, and salt. Bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer. Let it cook uncovered for about 45 minutes to an hour, until the chicken is tender and shreds easily with a fork.
Here’s where I got clever (after messing this up a few times): I used to shred my chicken with two forks like a savage, but now I throw it in my stand mixer with the paddle attachment. Three seconds on low speed, and it’s perfectly shredded. Mind blown, right? You’re welcome.
Remove the chicken from the pot, let it cool slightly, and shred it. Reserve that beautiful broth—we’ll use it for the masa and the sauce. Don’t you dare throw it away.
Step 3: The Sauce—This Is Where the Magic Happens
While the chicken simmers, let’s make the sauce. Take your dried guajillo and ancho chiles, break them into pieces, and place them in a bowl. Pour about 2 cups of hot water over them and let them soak for 20 minutes until they’re soft and rehydrated.
Drain the chiles and transfer them to a blender. Add the chipotles in adobo, the cumin, oregano, and about ½ cup of that reserved chicken broth. Blend until you have a smooth, velvety sauce. You might need to scrape down the sides a few times—these chiles can be stubborn.
Now, heat the vegetable oil in a skillet over medium heat. Pour in the chile sauce and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring frequently. It should bubble and darken slightly, the flavors melding and deepening. Add your shredded chicken to the skillet, pour in about ½ cup more broth, and let it all simmer together for 10 minutes. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. The filling should be moist but not soupy.
I once forgot to cook the sauce before adding the chicken. Ended up with raw chile flavor and a sad tamale. Learn from me—let that sauce simmer and develop character.
Step 4: The Masa—Patience, My Friend
Now for the part that intimidates people. Don’t let it. Masa is just dough, and dough is your friend.
In a large mixing bowl (or the bowl of your stand mixer), combine the masa harina, baking powder, and salt. Whisk them together to distribute the leavening evenly.
In a separate bowl, beat the lard or shortening with an electric mixer (or in your stand mixer with the paddle attachment) until it’s light and fluffy—about 3 minutes. You want it to look like whipped cream. This aerates the fat, which makes your tamales tender and not dense.
Gradually add the masa mixture to the whipped lard, alternating with the warm chicken broth. Start with about a cup of masa, then a splash of broth, and keep going until you’ve used it all. You’ll end up using about 3 to 3 ½ cups of broth total. The dough should be moist but not sticky—think soft play-dough.
The Earlobe Test: This is my Abuela’s trick. Take a small piece of masa and press it between your fingers. It should feel like an earlobe—soft, pliable, and not cracking at the edges. If it’s too dry, add more broth, a tablespoon at a time. If it’s too sticky, add a little more masa harina. I’ve had batches that felt like concrete and others like soup. The earlobe test has never failed me.
Step 5: The Assembly Line—This Is Where You Become a Pro
Drain your soaked corn husks and pat them dry with a kitchen towel. Set up your assembly station: husks, masa dough, chicken filling, a bowl of water for dipping your fingers, and a baking sheet for the finished tamales.
Take a husk—it should be about 6-8 inches wide. If it’s huge, you can tear it in half lengthwise. Hold it with the wide end at the bottom and the narrow end at the top. Spread about 2 tablespoons of masa onto the center of the husk, leaving about a 2-inch border at the top and bottom and about an inch on the sides. Use the back of a spoon or a spatula to spread it into a thin, even layer—about ¼ inch thick.
Here’s a mistake I made for years: I’d spread the masa too thick, and the tamale would be all dough and not enough filling. Less is more, people. You want the masa to be a thin blanket, not a comforter.
Now, place about 2 tablespoons of the chicken filling in a line down the center of the masa. If you’re adding cheese, sprinkle some on top of the chicken.
Step 6: The Fold—It Gets Easier, I Promise
Take the two long sides of the corn husk and bring them together, overlapping the masa. The dough will encase the filling. Fold the narrow end of the husk up toward the center, and then fold the wide end over to seal it. I usually tie a thin strip of soaked corn husk around the middle to keep it closed, but you can also just tuck the ends under—I’m lazy and usually skip the ties.
Set the tamale seam-side down on your baking sheet. Repeat, repeat, repeat. This part is meditative once you get into a rhythm. Put on some music, pour yourself that glass of wine, and just… roll.
You’ll get about 30-35 tamales from this recipe, depending on how generous you are with the filling.
Step 7: Steam ‘Em Up
You’ll need a large steamer pot for this. If you don’t have one, you can rig it up with a large pot and a steamer basket or even a colander set over boiling water—just make sure the water doesn’t touch the tamales.
Line the steamer basket with a few extra corn husks (this prevents sticking and adds flavor). Arrange the tamales in the basket, standing upright with the open ends facing up. Don’t pack them too tightly—you want steam to circulate around each one.
Pour about 2 inches of water into the pot, bring it to a simmer, and place the basket on top. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and steam for about 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes. Check periodically and add more hot water if needed.
How do you know they’re done? A tamale is ready when the masa pulls away from the husk easily. Unwrap one to test—if it comes away clean and the masa is firm and cooked through, you’re golden. If it’s still gooey, give it another 15 minutes.
Step 8: Let Them Rest (If You Can Wait)
Once they’re done, remove the steamer basket from the pot and let the tamales rest for about 10 minutes. This allows the masa to set properly. I know, the smell is intoxicating and you want to dive in, but patience pays off here.
Pro Tips & Tricks (From Someone Who’s Botched This Many Times)
1. The Broth is Everything
That chicken broth you cooked the chicken in? It’s liquid gold. Use it in the masa, use it in the sauce, use it to drink if you want. It’s loaded with flavor and fat that makes the masa ultra-tender.
2. Don’t Overmix Your Masa
I learned this the hard way—overmixing the masa develops gluten (yes, even with masa harina) and makes your tamales tough and dense. Mix just until everything comes together. Stop the minute it looks uniform. Your arms might want to keep going, but your tamales will thank you for stopping.
3. The Float Test
If you’re unsure about your masa consistency, drop a small ball of it into a glass of water. If it floats, you’re good to go. If it sinks, it’s too heavy—add a little more whipped lard and broth and try again.
4. Frozen Tamales Are a Gift
These beauties freeze beautifully. Let them cool completely, then place them in a single layer on a baking sheet and freeze. Once frozen, transfer them to a freezer bag. They’ll keep for up to 3 months. To reheat, steam them straight from frozen for about 20 minutes or microwave for 2-3 minutes wrapped in a damp paper towel.
5. Invest in a Good Steamer Pot
I used to try to make tamales in a regular pot with a makeshift steamer, and it was always a disaster. Finally, I bought a proper tamale steamer—the big aluminum ones with the insert. It cost me about $30 and changed my life. If you love tamales, make the investment.
6. Don’t Skip the Resting Time
After steaming, let the tamales sit in the covered pot for about 10-15 minutes before serving. This allows the masa to firm up and makes them easier to unwrap. I’ve pulled them out too early and ended up with tamales that fell apart on the plate. Patience, grasshopper.
Variations & Substitutions
Vegetarian Tamales
I’ve made these for my vegetarian friends, and they’re just as delicious. Swap the chicken for roasted poblano peppers and Oaxaca cheese. Or make a filling of black beans, corn, and roasted sweet potato. The sauce works beautifully with vegetables too—just use vegetable broth instead of chicken broth.
Spicier Tamales
If you like heat (and I mean real heat), add an extra chipotle chile or two to the sauce. You can also mix some chopped jalapeños into the masa—it gives a wonderful, subtle heat that builds with each bite.
Green Chile Chicken Tamales
This is my husband’s favorite variation. Instead of the red chile sauce, make a green sauce with tomatillos, jalapeños, and cilantro. Same process, completely different vibe. It’s brighter and fresher, perfect for spring.
Gluten-Free
Good news—traditional tamales are naturally gluten-free since they’re made with masa harina (which is corn-based) and not wheat flour. Just make sure your broth and any added ingredients are certified gluten-free.
Serving Suggestions
Tamales are a meal in themselves—they’ve got protein, carbs, and plenty of flavor. But I like to serve them with a few extras to make it a feast:
- A fresh cabbage slaw with lime juice and cilantro—the crunch and acidity cut through the richness perfectly.
- Mexican rice and refried beans for a full plate.
- A dollop of crema (or sour cream) and a generous spoonful of salsa verde.
- Pickled red onions—these add a pop of color and tang that I can’t resist.
- And always, always serve with lime wedges. A squeeze of fresh lime over a hot tamale is non-negotiable in my kitchen.
These are perfect for holidays, for feeding a crowd, or for a cozy Sunday dinner when you have time to really cook. I’ve brought them to potlucks and watched them disappear in minutes. There’s something about unwrapping your own tamale that makes people feel like they’re part of the experience.
FAQ’s
Can I make tamales ahead of time?
Absolutely! You can prepare the filling and the masa a day in advance and refrigerate them separately. Assemble and steam the next day. You can also fully cook the tamales and refrigerate them for up to 5 days—just steam them again for about 15 minutes to reheat.
How do I store leftover tamales?
Let them cool completely and place them in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 5 days. For longer storage, freeze them as I mentioned above. If you want to reheat them in the microwave, wrap them in a damp paper towel and microwave for 1-2 minutes.
Can I use pre-made masa dough?
You can, and I won’t judge you—I’ve done it in a pinch. But homemade masa is significantly better. The texture is lighter and more flavorful. If you do use store-bought, look for fresh masa from a tortilleria or a Latin grocery store. The refrigerated stuff in tubs is okay, but it’s not the same.
Why did my tamales stick to the husks?
This usually means the masa was too wet or you didn’t steam them long enough. The masa needs to set properly to release cleanly. Next time, add a little more masa harina to the dough and make sure you’re steaming for at least an hour.
Can I use chicken breasts instead of thighs?
You can, but chicken breasts tend to dry out. If you use them, be careful not to overcook—poach them until just done, about 20-25 minutes. I’d highly recommend thighs though. They have more fat and flavor, and they stay juicy in the tamales.
My masa was too dry and cracked—what went wrong?
Cracking is usually a sign that your masa didn’t have enough fat or liquid. The lard/shortening is crucial for creating a pliable dough that won’t crack. Add a little more warm broth or melted lard next time, and don’t skip the “earlobe test.”
Related Recipes:
- Mexican Rice and Beans | Easy Homemade Recipe
- Carne Asada Street Tacos | Easy Mexican Recipe
- Beef Birria Tacos | Authentic Mexican Recipe
- Chicken Enchiladas | Easy Cheesy Dinner Recipe
Final Thoughts
I’ll be honest—the first time I made tamales on my own, without Abuela, I cried. They were ugly, some fell apart, and I ended up eating more masa than filling. But I kept making them. I made them for friends, for my kids, for holidays, for no reason at all. And somewhere along the way, I stopped worrying about perfection and started enjoying the process.
That’s what I want for you. Yes, this recipe is detailed. Yes, it takes time. Yes, there’s a learning curve. But here’s the thing: even a messy, imperfect tamale tastes better than anything you’ll buy in a can. And the joy of opening that steamer basket and seeing rows of golden tamales that you made? There’s nothing quite like it.
