Birria Tacos — When the Week Takes Everything and You Cook Back to Yourself

The week after Easter. Hartford finally committed to spring — sixty-two degrees on Thursday, windows open, the cross-breeze pushing the curtains around the dining room. I opened all of them and I stood in the living room with the breeze moving through the house and I thought: we made it. Eight months of heating bills. We made it to April.

This was a quiet cooking week. I was tired from Easter. Eduardo was tired. I made arroz blanco con huevo — white rice with a fried egg on top — for two dinners this week, because it is the Delgado weeknight reset, because it is a plate of food you can make in fifteen minutes with ingredients that are always in the pantry, because it is what Mami used to feed us when she had cooked all day and she was out of ideas. White rice. A fried egg with a runny yolk. A spoonful of leftover beans. A slice of plantain if I had one. Salt. Pepper. The Delgado house-dinner when the week has taken everything else.

Mami came Wednesday. She ate the same dinner. She said, "Your mother always put hot sauce." I said, "Mami, you are my mother." She looked at me. She said, "I know that." Pause. "I meant your grandmother." I said, "Abuela Consuelo." She said, "Yes. Abuela Consuelo. She put hot sauce." I said, "I know, Mami. I like mine without." She said, "You were always different." It was not a compliment and not a criticism. It was an observation.

I thought about it all night. She is right. I was the different one. I went to college. I left. I came to Hartford. I raised my children bilingual but in English. I cook Puerto Rican food in a gringo city for thirty-four years in a cafeteria that serves 1,500 people and most of them are not Puerto Rican and have never been to Puerto Rico. I am the bridge child of my mother's family — the one who went to the mainland and did not come back. I am the one in the diaspora. My brothers and sisters who stayed did not carry the island with them; they are the island, as a fact of their bodies. I carry the island because I left. The island is in my hands because my hands left the ground.

This is a complicated thing to be. It is not new to me. But at fifty-seven, in April, with retirement coming in June and Mami fading and the grandchildren multiplying, I am thinking about it again. I will think about it the rest of my life. Wepa.

Thursday Eduardo and I had coffee at 7 AM and did not talk for forty minutes. We just sat. We drank. He read. I looked out the window. There are birds now. The dumb cardinals, the smug blue jays, the grumpy robins in the yard that do not belong in the yard until April and that arrive like clockwork. Wepa.

I made arroz blanco con huevo twice this week because that is the Delgado floor — the thing you make when you have nothing left to give the kitchen. But when I sat down to write the recipe I wanted to leave here, I kept thinking about the other end of the spectrum: the dish that takes all day, the one that asks something of you, the one you make when you want the food to say I am still here and I still know who I am. Birria is that dish for me. It is not Puerto Rican — I know that — but it is Latin, it is loud, it is low and slow and it fills the house the way Mami’s kitchen used to fill the house, and when I am thinking about the island in my hands and the years ahead, I want to smell something that means someone cooked with intention here.

Birria Tacos

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs 30 min | Total Time: 4 hrs | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 3 lbs beef chuck roast, cut into 3-inch chunks
• 1 lb bone-in beef short ribs
• 4 dried guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded
• 2 dried ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded
• 2 dried chiles de arbol (or to taste), stemmed
• 1 large white onion, halved (half for broth, half for serving)
• 6 garlic cloves
• 2 roma tomatoes, halved
• 1 tsp dried oregano (Mexican oregano preferred)
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 2 bay leaves
• 4 cups beef broth
• 2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 16 small corn tortillas
• 2 cups shredded Oaxaca or mozzarella cheese
• 1/2 cup white onion, finely diced (for serving)
• 1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped (for serving)
• 2 limes, cut into wedges
• 2 tbsp neutral oil

Instructions

1. Toast and rehydrate the chiles. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast the guajillo, ancho, and chile de arbol for 30–45 seconds per side until fragrant. Transfer to a bowl, cover with boiling water, and soak for 20 minutes until soft.
2. Char the aromatics. In the same skillet, char the onion halves, garlic cloves, and tomato halves cut-side down over medium-high heat until darkened in spots, about 5 minutes. Set aside.
3. Build the chile sauce. Drain the soaked chiles and add them to a blender along with the charred aromatics, oregano, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, apple cider vinegar, and 1 cup of beef broth. Blend until completely smooth. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Season and 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 beef in batches, turning, until browned on all sides, about 4 minutes per batch. Do not crowd the pot.
5. Braise low and slow. Return all browned meat to the Dutch oven. Pour the chile sauce over the meat, then add the remaining 3 cups of beef broth and the bay leaves. The liquid should nearly cover the meat. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 3 to 3 1/2 hours, until the meat is completely tender and falling apart.
6. Shred the meat. Remove the bay leaves. Transfer the meat to a cutting board and shred with two forks, discarding any bones. Return the shredded meat to the broth (the consommé). Taste and adjust salt.
7. Assemble and griddle the tacos. Heat a skillet or griddle over medium heat. Dip each corn tortilla briefly into the top layer of the broth to coat, then lay flat on the skillet. Add a small handful of cheese and a scoop of shredded birria to one half. Fold the tortilla closed and cook 2–3 minutes per side until crispy and the cheese is melted.
8. Serve with consommé. Ladle warm consommé into small bowls for dipping. Top tacos with diced white onion, fresh cilantro, and a squeeze of lime. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 640mg