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Birria (Mexican Beef Stew) -- A Warming Bowl for the Deep of January

Deep January now, the cold settled in properly with overnight lows that have been running below zero since the third. The woodstove runs continuously and I have developed the skill that long Vermont winters teach, which is the ability to maintain a fire without thinking about it — the rhythm of loading, the instinct for when it needs attention, the particular sound of a fire burning correctly versus one that is starving for air. The house is warm throughout. I did the work in fall to ensure that.

I called Bill on Sunday and we talked for over an hour, which is becoming the winter Sunday pattern. He has his maple tapping supplies in order and has been studying the forecast charts trying to predict when the freeze-thaw cycle will begin in earnest in coastal Maine. The window is typically February into March up there, maybe a week or two later than my peak here in Vermont. He has contacted his neighbor — the experienced tapper — who has agreed to walk him through his first tapping day. I told Bill I was glad he had a mentor nearby and he said, with some warmth in his voice, that he had already had the phone version of mentorship from me for three years and that was worth as much. I did not know what to say to that, so I said thank you.

Fish chowder this week, a proper New England version: salt pork rendered first for the fat and the flavor, onion and celery in the fat, potatoes added with water to cook through, cod and haddock added at the very end so they barely cook rather than overcook, cream poured in off heat. The salt pork is the argument for this chowder, the thing that distinguishes it from the cream-base versions that omit it. It adds a smokiness and a depth of savory flavor that no amount of butter can replicate. I told Teddy about the salt pork distinction last spring and he had gone out and found a proper piece of it and made a test batch. He said it was revelatory, which is a good word for a sixteen-year-old to apply to salt pork.

The seed catalogs have begun arriving and I have been making my first notes in the margins. This is January pleasure — the pure hypothetical pleasure of a garden that exists only on paper, unaffected by drought or frost or insects, perfectly laid out and abundantly productive. I know perfectly well the actual garden will be messier and more complicated and I will lose things I planned to keep. I annotate the catalogs anyway. The planning is its own season.

The fish chowder has been made and eaten and it did exactly what it was supposed to do — that is the quiet satisfaction of a recipe you know well. But there is another pot that has been on my mind these cold weeks, something with a longer cook and a deeper reach into the spice shelf: birria, the slow-braised Mexican beef stew that rewards patience the way a proper winter fire does. It asks for the same unhurried attention, and it fills a house with a smell that makes the cold outside feel like exactly the right backdrop for what’s happening inside.

Birria (Mexican Beef Stew)

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

Ingredients

  • 3 lbs beef chuck roast, cut into large chunks
  • 4 dried guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded
  • 2 dried ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded
  • 1 dried pasilla chile, stemmed and seeded
  • 1 medium white onion, quartered (divided)
  • 6 cloves garlic
  • 2 Roma tomatoes, halved
  • 1 tsp dried Mexican oregano
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 tsp ground cloves
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
  • 4 cups beef broth
  • 2 tbsp vegetable oil
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • For serving: warm corn tortillas, diced white onion, fresh cilantro, lime wedges

Instructions

  1. Toast and rehydrate the chiles. Heat a dry skillet over medium heat. Toast the guajillo, ancho, and pasilla chiles for about 30 seconds per side until fragrant. Transfer to a bowl, cover with boiling water, and soak for 20 minutes until softened. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup of the soaking liquid.
  2. Blend the chile sauce. Combine the softened chiles, reserved soaking liquid, half the onion, garlic, tomatoes, oregano, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, and apple cider vinegar in a blender. Blend until completely smooth. Strain through a fine mesh sieve and set aside.
  3. Brown the beef. Season the beef chunks generously with salt and pepper. Heat the vegetable oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, brown the beef on all sides, about 3–4 minutes per side. Remove and set aside.
  4. Build the braise. Return all the beef to the pot. Pour the chile sauce over the beef and add the beef broth, remaining onion quarters, and bay leaves. Stir to combine and bring to a boil.
  5. Braise low and slow. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 2 1/2 to 3 hours, until the beef is completely tender and falling apart. Check occasionally and add a splash of broth or water if needed to keep the beef submerged.
  6. Shred and finish. Remove the bay leaves and onion quarters. Use two forks to shred the beef directly in the pot. Taste and adjust salt. Skim any excess fat from the surface, or spoon the flavorful fat (consommé oil) into a small dish to brush on tortillas.
  7. Serve. Ladle the birria and broth into bowls. Serve with warm corn tortillas, diced onion, fresh cilantro, and lime wedges on the side. The broth can also be served separately as a dipping consommé.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg

Walter Bergstrom
About the cook who shared this
Walter Bergstrom
Week 407 of Walter’s 30-year story · Burlington, Vermont
Walt is a seventy-three-year-old retired high school history teacher from Burlington, Vermont — a Vietnam veteran, a widower, and a grandfather of five who cooks New England comfort food in the same kitchen where his wife Margaret made bread every Saturday for forty years. He lost Margaret to a stroke in 2021, and now he bakes her bread himself, not because he's good at it but because the smell fills the house and for an hour she's still there.

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