LOS ANGELES — Before sunrise and well before store doors opened, families wrapped in blankets and holiday sweaters lined up outside Amapola Market this week, determined to secure a key ingredient for a cherished Christmas tradition: fresh masa for tamales.
Across Southern California, the seasonal rush for the corn-based dough transforms the neighborhood grocer into a pre-dawn gathering place. For many Latino families, Christmas preparations revolve around tamale-making marathons that bring together multiple generations, each with a role in an assembly line of spreading, filling, folding, and steaming.
Christina Chavarria was among those returning for more, even after already preparing nearly 200 tamales. She said the flavor and texture of Amapola’s masa make the wait worthwhile. “It’s seasoned just right and ready to use,” she said, adding that the tradition gives her a rare chance to cook alongside her mother and adult daughter.
A Seasonal Pilgrimage
Amapola Market, which operates three locations in the Los Angeles area, estimates that tens of thousands of customers visit during the days leading up to Christmas. Some travel from neighboring counties or even out of state, arriving hours early or camping overnight to hold their place in line.
The store’s leadership refers to the surge as an annual “masa pilgrimage,” a responsibility they take seriously. Chief executive Rolando Pozos said the holidays heighten expectations. “People count on us for their Christmas,” he said. “That matters more than anything.”
Pozos, a familiar face to regulars, greets customers personally and frequently demonstrates tamale-making on local television. He also emphasized that the company has kept prices steady for a third consecutive year, a decision aimed at easing pressure on families already stretched by inflation.
Generations at the Table
For many customers, the tradition spans decades. Melissa Perkins said her family has relied on Amapola’s masa since before she was born, producing hundreds of tamales each year with the help of siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. “This is my mom’s favorite,” she said while waiting in line with her father.
The market sells a range of prepared masas, from savory blends for pork and chile fillings to sweet varieties flavored with pineapple or strawberry. Customers also use the dough for tortillas and festive drinks like champurrado.
Inside the store, production ramps up dramatically during the holidays. Employees begin work around 3 a.m., grinding cooked corn and mixing it with seasonings in industrial-sized equipment. Bags of masa are filled and double-checked as quickly as they are purchased, while fresh tortillas roll off conveyors in the background.
Waiting Together Before Dawn
Outside, the early hours turn into a social event. Families bring folding chairs, snacks, and wagons to haul dozens of pounds of masa. Some send children ahead to hold spots while others search for parking blocks away.
Giselle Salazar arrived before dawn with her sister and cousin, bundled in blankets and catching up after a college semester apart. Their cart eventually held close to 100 pounds of masa. “This started with our moms,” Salazar said. “Now it’s our turn to carry it on.”
For Mark Monroy, the wait was also about passing down memories. He drove more than an hour from Riverside with his 9-year-old daughter for her first pre-Christmas masa run. “No matter what kind of year you have,” he said, “there’s always a tamale to open.”
As the sun rose, the line outside Amapola continued to move — even as more families arrived — underscoring how deeply food, tradition, and community are woven into the holiday season in Los Angeles.
