Read: A briefing on eating tamales

Those differences are reflected in the variety of tamales available in the United States, thanks to the history of Latinos’ migration to the states. In a way, Janer says, it’s difficult to define what a tamal even is since they can vary so wildly—much like Latinos themselves, tamales are not a monolith. While Mexican Americans in the Southwest often opt for corn-husk-wrapped tamales, those from Central America typically wrap theirs in banana leaves. And while most Mexican and Central American tamales contain corn-based masa, Puerto Rican pasteles don’t use any whatsoever, instead using a combination of ground yautía and green bananas. Tamales’ unifying factor, then, comes from their basic structure and the fact that they’re not an everyday meal, Janer says.

Those game for the herculean task of making them often require an entire team to help assemble them, says Erika Stanley, a chef from Dallas who grew up in Costa Rica making tamales with her family. Each person was assigned a different role: preparing the masa, cooking a variety of meat fillings, softening up the banana leaves, carefully wrapping each tamal, and monitoring them as they cooked. And if you make tamales, you make a lot of them, Stanley says, remembering that her family often ate them from December to January. In this way, it’s inherently a family activity, she says, and a tradition she cherished when she came to the United States. “They are hard to make and they are labor-intensive,” she says. “But it is a part of you that you want to share with others. It’s your love and tradition and your culture, so it is the most wonderful present someone can give you.”

For those who don’t have the time or experience to make tamales, the art of acquiring enough holiday tamales for a family can feel almost like getting black-market goods. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, the phrase “tamale plug” (or dealer) populates the Facebook and Twitter feeds of Latinos across the country, with people begging their friends to give them the name of someone’s mom or grandmother who can set aside a few tamales for them. And you need to find your tamal dealer well in advance—many people start taking orders around Thanksgiving, and those who are late to the game are left behind.

In San Antonio, Juan Rodriguez is one of those “plugs.” He grew up in the area, delivering tamales door-to-door for his mom as a kid, earning him the nickname “Tamale Boy.” When his mom passed away, he continued her tradition and is now a sought-after vendor. Thanksgiving tamales have to be ordered by November 1 and Christmas ones by December 1, he says, and any extras are available on a first-come, first-served basis. He made about 6,000 tamales for the Thanksgiving-season orders, he says, and he expects he’ll make even more for Christmas.