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Carne Asada Tacos — The Tacos We Made the Night Diego Got His Name

Jessica had her sixteen-week appointment this week. Everything is good — the baby is healthy, growing on track, heartbeat strong. The doctor asked if we want to know the sex. Jessica looked at me. I looked at Jessica. We'd discussed this. Jessica wants to know. I want to be surprised. This is a fundamental philosophical disagreement that we resolved the way we resolve everything: Jessica wins. We found out.

It's a boy. A boy. Diego Miguel Rivera — we'd had the name picked out since the day we found out Jessica was pregnant, because if it was a boy, he was always going to be Diego, after my cousin who talked me into firefighting and indirectly gave me everything I have. Miguel for my grandfather. Diego Miguel Rivera. I said it out loud in the car on the way home and Jessica said "stop saying it, you're going to make me cry again" and I said it three more times because I am not a good man but I am an honest one.

My dad cried when we told him. Not openly — Roberto Rivera does not cry openly — but his eyes went red and he turned away to check the grill that didn't need checking and when he turned back he was composed and said "Diego. That's a good name, mijo." My mom had no such restraint. Elena wept into the guacamole and hugged Jessica so hard that Jessica made the sound she always makes when Elena hugs her, which is a cross between gratitude and asphyxiation.

Sofia's reaction: "I wanted a dinosaur." We have been over this. Dinosaurs are extinct. Brothers are not. Sofia remains unconvinced that this is an upgrade.

I celebrated the only way I know how: I cooked. Made cochinita pibil — slow-roasted pork marinated in achiote paste, orange juice, and lime, wrapped in banana leaves and braised for five hours until it falls apart with a look. It's a Yucatecan dish that my Abuela Rosa used to make for celebrations, and finding out you're having a son felt like a celebration that deserved her recipe. Served it on tortillas with pickled red onions and habanero salsa. My dad ate four tacos. My mom ate two. Jessica ate three and would have eaten four but the baby was pressing on her stomach. Sofia ate rice and ignored the pork because she's two and a half and rice is more reliable than pork when you're two and a half. Fair enough.

The cochinita pibil that night was Abuela Rosa’s recipe, and it was perfect — but I’ll be honest, it’s a project, a five-hour commitment that requires banana leaves and a level of patience I don’t always have on a Tuesday. So when I want that same celebratory feeling on a regular weeknight — the tacos, the pickled onions, the whole spread — I reach for carne asada instead. It gets you to the same table, the same family crowded around with tortillas in hand, in a fraction of the time.

Carne Asada Tacos with Pickled Red Onions

Prep Time: 20 min (plus 2 hrs marinating) | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 2 hrs 35 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • For the pickled red onions (make first):
  • 1 large red onion, very thinly sliced
  • 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
  • 1/2 cup warm water
  • 1 tsp granulated sugar
  • 1 tsp kosher salt
  • For the carne asada:
  • 2 lbs skirt steak or flank steak
  • 1/3 cup fresh orange juice (about 1 large orange)
  • 3 tbsp fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
  • 3 tbsp neutral oil (avocado or vegetable)
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • 1 tsp chili powder
  • 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1/2 tsp dried oregano
  • 1 tsp kosher salt
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • For serving:
  • 12–16 small corn tortillas, warmed
  • Fresh cilantro leaves
  • Sliced avocado or guacamole
  • Habanero or serrano salsa
  • Lime wedges

Instructions

  1. Pickle the onions. Combine vinegar, warm water, sugar, and salt in a jar or bowl and stir until dissolved. Add the sliced red onion, press down to submerge, and set aside at room temperature for at least 1 hour. They’ll turn bright pink and mellow in sharpness. Refrigerate any leftovers—they keep for 2 weeks.
  2. Marinate the steak. In a bowl or zip-top bag, whisk together orange juice, lime juice, oil, garlic, cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, oregano, salt, and pepper. Add the steak, turn to coat, and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours and up to 8. Don’t go beyond 8 hours or the citrus will begin to break down the texture.
  3. Bring to room temperature. Remove steak from the refrigerator 30 minutes before cooking. Pat it lightly dry with paper towels—excess marinade on the surface will steam instead of sear.
  4. Sear over high heat. Heat a cast iron skillet or grill pan over high heat until smoking. Cook the steak 3–4 minutes per side for medium-rare, or 5 minutes per side for medium. Skirt steak is thinner and cooks fast—watch it closely. You want a deep, caramelized crust.
  5. Rest and slice. Transfer steak to a cutting board and rest for 5–7 minutes. Slice thinly against the grain. This step is non-negotiable—cutting with the grain produces chewy, stringy meat; cutting against it gives you tender, clean bites.
  6. Warm the tortillas. Set tortillas directly over a gas flame or in a dry skillet over medium-high heat, 20–30 seconds per side, until lightly charred and pliable. Stack and wrap in a clean kitchen towel to keep warm.
  7. Assemble. Layer sliced carne asada onto doubled tortillas (two stacked gives structure). Top with pickled red onions, fresh cilantro, a few slices of avocado, and a spoonful of salsa. Squeeze a lime wedge over everything just before eating.

Nutrition (per serving, approx. 2–3 tacos)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 36g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 610mg

Marcus Rivera
About the cook who shared this
Marcus Rivera
Week 55 of Marcus’s 30-year story · Phoenix, Arizona
Marcus is a Phoenix firefighter, a husband, a dad of two, and the kind of guy who'd hand you a plate of brisket before he'd shake your hand. He grew up watching his father Roberto grill carne asada every Sunday in the backyard, and that tradition runs through everything he cooks. He's won a couple of local BBQ competitions, built an outdoor kitchen his wife calls "the altar," and feeds his fire crew on every shift. For Marcus, cooking isn't a hobby — it's how he shows up for the people he loves.

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