Beef Birria Tacos

Easter triduum at St. Patrick's. Lourdes did the whole thing. I did most of it. A Code Blue Wednesday morning that we did not save. I stood in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before I got in my car.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous.

I made lechon kawali Saturday. The pork belly, the brining, the deep fry, the crackle. The kitchen smelled of hot oil for two days.

The blog post on lechon kawali got picked up by a Filipino-American newsletter. Traffic doubled for two days. The traffic was the surprise.

I called Lourdes Sunday night. The call was the call. The call was always the call.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

The lechon kawali was Saturday’s act of grounding — the brining, the waiting, the violent crack of the deep fry — and it did what it always does: it held me in the body when the week had tried to pull me out of it. This birria came from the same place in me, the place that reaches for a long braise when the week has been long, that wants a pot on the stove filling the house with something patient and warm. If you already gave yourself to the pork belly this week, you know exactly why this recipe made sense next.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 lbs beef chuck roast, cut into large chunks
2 lbs beef short ribs (bone-in)
4 dried guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded
2 dried ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded
2 dried chiles de arbol, stemmed (adjust for heat)
1 can (14 oz) fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1 medium white onion, halved (half for braise, half for serving)
8 cloves garlic
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano (Mexican preferred)
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
3 cups beef broth
2 bay leaves
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons neutral oil
12 corn tortillas
1 1/2 cups shredded Oaxaca or mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1/2 white onion, finely diced
2 limes, cut into wedges

Instructions

Toast and rehydrate the chiles. Heat a dry skillet over medium heat. Toast the guajillo, ancho, and chile de arbol for 30 seconds per side until fragrant. Transfer to a bowl, cover with hot water, and soak for 20 minutes until softened. Drain.
Build the chile sauce. Blend the rehydrated chiles, fire-roasted tomatoes, half the onion, garlic, cumin, oregano, cinnamon, cloves, apple cider vinegar, and 1 cup of beef broth until completely smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Strain through a fine mesh sieve for a silkier consomé.
Sear the meat. Pat the chuck roast and short ribs dry and season generously with salt and pepper. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sear the meat in batches, 3–4 minutes per side, until deeply browned. Do not crowd the pot. Remove and set aside.
Braise low and slow. Return all seared meat to the Dutch oven. Pour in the chile sauce and remaining 2 cups of beef broth. Add the bay leaves. The liquid should nearly cover the meat. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and braise for 3 to 3 1/2 hours, until the meat falls apart when pressed with a spoon.
Shred and skim. Remove the meat and shred it with two forks, discarding bones. Skim fat from the surface of the braising liquid (the consomé) — or reserve the fat layer for frying the tortillas. Taste the consomé and adjust salt. Keep both the meat and consomé warm over low heat.
Fry the tacos. Heat a griddle or large skillet over medium heat. Dip a corn tortilla briefly into the consomé (or brush with the reserved fat), then lay it on the hot griddle. Add a handful of shredded meat and a generous pinch of cheese to one half. Fold the tortilla over and press lightly. Cook 2 minutes per side until crispy and the cheese is melted. Repeat with remaining tortillas.
Serve with consomé. Plate the crispy tacos alongside a small bowl of warm consomé for dipping. Top tacos with diced onion, fresh cilantro, and a squeeze of lime.

Nutrition (per serving)

Beef Birria Tacos — The Kitchen Still Smelled of Hot Oil When I Made These Next