csua.org/u/3fa -> www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2003/06/28/MN161258.DTL
Standing at the back of the outdoor beer garden was the object of the crowd's affection: a 49-year-old Mexican immigrant known to late-nighters simply as the Tamale Lady. Zeitgeist's jaded regulars don't get on their feet too often. ICON Over the past decade, Ramos has become an icon of the city on the order of the fabled Brown twins. But while the prim identicals in matching outfits prowl Union Square, the underground hero Ramos roams the working-class environs of the Mission and the shirtless gay bars South of Market -- an itinerant chef who peddles her homemade feasts out of plastic coolers. After years of dishing out love and tamales to bar patrons, Ramos is getting a hefty dose of affection in return. Tonight, Zeitgeist will swell again for Ramos' 50th birthday party. Feeder will premiere his mini-documentary "Our Lady of Tamale," featuring 30-second songs submitted by dozens of San Francisco musicians. In a city filled with misfits and refugees searching for understanding, Virginia the Tamale Lady exudes apron-string warmth -- which she often serves with a side dish of homespun tough love. It was a familiar scene to those who know Ramos, a house cleaner by day who started selling tamales at night to raise money to put five of her seven children through college. She does this because she gets as much love out of this as she gives. Pointing to the knot of people around Ramos at Zeitgeist recently, French said, "Look around. Ramos receives these laurels in midlife after years of heartache. She was born in Jalisco, Mexico, and never met her father. He was a candymaker in town, Ramos said, much older than her mother. Shortly after her mother became pregnant, he disappeared. Raised mostly by her grandmother, Ramos got pregnant at 14 as a way to get out of the house, she told Feeder. She emigrated to the Bay Area in 1980, seeking a better life. Four years later, she brought four of her children here, and three years later imported the rest. They're created from her original recipe, culled from the gods, fans say. On her first night out, she sold 15 tamales at a long-gone bar near 19th and Folsom streets. These days, Ramos, often with the help of one of her grown children, will dish out as many as 150 a night, a couple times a week, staying out past bar time until the $2 treats are gone. For the most part, she sticks to the Mission and South of Market. If it's a good night, she'll head to a place or two in Noe Valley. But uptown spots, said her son and occasional helper, Jose Sanchez, are off-limits. The 25-year-old sells musical instruments when he isn't helping his mom. After she returns, Ramos hits as many as 18 nightspots, beginning at happy hour. With her gray-flecked, wavy blond hair cascading behind her, Ramos weaved through the crowd, accepting hugs and taking orders. Her son, Sanchez, trailed behind, pulling her wares in three small plastic red-and-white coolers. The night's choices were chicken, cheese, pork or veggie. Occasionally, she'll mix in squash or other ingredients. But the advice always is served straight up, especially when it comes to the favorite topic of her people: their relationships. She may not remember their names, but she recalls their issues. Take care of two things: Take care of yourself and," she said, pausing to pat the man's hip pocket, "take care of your wallet. After seeing Feeder's documentary on San Francisco's parking woes, "Meter Maid Me Mad," which was just accepted to the New York International Independent Film and Video Festival, Ramos asked him to do a documentary on her. Among them is Carrie Hourihan, a bartender at Haight Street's Noc Noc (favorite tamale: anything with hot sauce). She previewed the homage submitted from her band, the Wendy Kroys: I spend my dreary nights working down at the bar/ Pulling lots of pints where the sloppy drunks are/ Oh I need a cheese tamale with extra hot sauce/ Before I gnaw my pint-pulling arm off. Song is but one of the many flavors of Tamale Lady odes.
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