Growing up in Puebla, Fernando López learned that food was a communal act. His grandmother María Luisa, a quiet master of her kitchen, taught him not just recipes but a philosophy: Food connects us. He remembers the rhythm of hands preparing tamales together, the scent of chilies and epazote in the air, and the laughter echoing through family gatherings.
When López moved to New York as a teenager, the tamales he found were a pale imitation of what he knew. “I missed the tamales of my childhood,” he says. “The ones made with nixtamal, where you could taste the corn.” He resolved to recreate them—not just for himself, but for a city he believed deserved to experience their soul.
At the heart of López’s tamales lies a commitment to tradition: nixtamalization, the ancient process of cooking dried corn with lime to remove its husk and unlock its flavor.
“It’s not easy,” he admits. “The process is long, and everything has to be just right—time, water, even the stones in the mill. But when you taste the masa, you know why it’s worth it.”
Unlike the ubiquitous Maseca, nixtamalized masa breathes life into the tamales at Factory Tamal. The texture is tender but substantial, the flavor earthy and rich. Each tamal tells you where it comes from.
The menu at Factory Tamal reads like a love letter to Puebla. López begins with the classics:
But López is not content to stay within the bounds of tradition. His tamales are also a reflection of New York’s energy, its embrace of the unexpected:
López is as thoughtful about his audience as he is about his masa. For vegetarians, he offers Rajas with Cheese, a tamal that feels as satisfying as any meat-based dish. For vegans, his masa is made with olive oil instead of lard, filled with ingredients like portobello mushrooms and zucchini. “I make tamales for everyone,” he says. “But they all have to pass my own test first. If I don’t love it, I won’t sell it.” And for those who think tamales are just tamales, López has something new:
Running a tamal shop in New York is no small feat. Rents are high, competition is fierce, and the city never stops moving. But López meets the challenge with a quiet determination that reflects his roots. “Starting a business is one thing,” he says. “Keeping it alive—that’s the real work.” He speaks of late nights, of the sacrifices his family has made to help him chase his dream. But there’s no bitterness, only gratitude. "Every tamal we make is a piece of who we are. It’s worth everything."
Factory Tamal is more than a restaurant; it’s a window into another world. López has taken the tamal, that humble yet extraordinary dish, and elevated it into something that feels personal and universal at once.
When you unwrap a tamal,”López says, “you’re unwrapping a story. A memory. A connection.
At Factory Tamal, that story is one of love—for tradition, for innovation, and for a city that has become López’s second home. Are you ready to unwrap yours?