Chili Rubbed Steak Tacos with Chimichurri

Las Cruces weekend. Chile roasting. I drove down Friday evening after practice and arrived late, the house dark except for the kitchen light where my mother was awake at midnight the way she is always awake, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a rosary, which is how Gloria Medina waits for her children to come home and which she has been doing since I was seventeen and will probably be doing until she can't.

Saturday we roasted. Just my father and mother and me — Patricia drove up from El Paso for Sunday lunch, but the roasting itself was us three. I set up the drum at nine in the morning, the same spot in the yard where it always goes, in the shadow of the mesquite tree, and I loaded the chiles and started the fire. Gloria sat in her lawn chair in the yard and directed: "Turn them faster. You're burning the bottoms." "Add more wood." "Not that much wood." My father sat in his own chair twenty feet away and watched without speaking.

Ruben used to stand at the drum with a beer and a bad joke and the willingness to do the heavy work of turning the drum without being asked. The spot where he would have stood was empty. I noticed it for the first time twenty minutes in and then I noticed it every time I turned. I didn't say anything. My mother didn't say anything. My father looked at the empty spot once, looked away, and looked at the mountains. That was all we needed to do.

I peeled chiles from noon until three, sitting at the outdoor table, filling Ziploc bags, labeling them by heat level in permanent marker. The same as every year. The same routine. The ritual is the point. The ritual says: we are still here, we are still doing this, the chile is still good, the people doing it are the people who are left. I drove home Sunday with a cooler full of bags and my mother's blessing and my father's handshake, which is the same thing. The season smells like home. It always will.

I came home Sunday with twelve labeled bags in a cooler and the smell of roasted chile baked into my jacket, and I didn’t want the weekend to end the way most weekends end — in the refrigerator and forgotten. I wanted to cook with the chiles the same night, while my hands still remembered the feel of the drum and the weight of the afternoon. These tacos are what came out of that: a hard sear on skirt steak rubbed in dried chile and cumin, finished with the brightness of chimichurri because the richness needs something that cuts it, the same way grief needs something living alongside it. Ruben would have eaten four of these standing over the stove and called them a snack.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4 (2–3 tacos each)

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs skirt steak, trimmed and cut into 2 even pieces
2 tbsp dried New Mexican red chile powder (or ancho chile powder)
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1 tbsp neutral oil (avocado or vegetable)
8–10 small corn tortillas, warmed
1/2 white onion, finely diced
Fresh cilantro leaves, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving
For the chimichurri:
1 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, packed
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, packed
3 cloves garlic
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp black pepper

Instructions

Make the chimichurri. Combine parsley, cilantro, and garlic in a food processor and pulse until finely chopped. Add red wine vinegar, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. With the processor running, stream in the olive oil until just combined — you want texture, not a puree. Taste and adjust salt. Set aside at room temperature; it improves as it sits.
Build the chile rub. In a small bowl, combine chile powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Pat the steak dry with paper towels, then coat all sides evenly with the rub. Press it in with your hands. Let the steak rest at room temperature for at least 15 minutes.
Sear the steak. Heat a cast iron skillet or heavy pan over high heat until it just begins to smoke. Add the oil and swirl to coat. Lay the steak pieces in the pan without crowding. Sear undisturbed for 3–4 minutes per side for medium-rare, or 4–5 minutes for medium. Do not move the steak while it sears.
Rest before slicing. Transfer steak to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil. Rest for 8–10 minutes. This step is not optional — it keeps the juices in the meat.
Slice against the grain. Identify the direction of the muscle fibers and slice perpendicular to them, thin, on a slight bias. Skirt steak has a strong grain; cutting with it produces tough bites.
Warm the tortillas. Heat tortillas directly over a gas flame, in a dry skillet, or wrapped in a damp paper towel in the microwave for 30–45 seconds. Keep them covered in a clean kitchen towel until serving.
Assemble. Layer sliced steak onto each tortilla. Top with diced white onion, fresh cilantro, and a generous spoonful of chimichurri. Serve immediately with lime wedges on the side. Add roasted green chile strips from your cooler if you have them — and if you’ve done the work, you do.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chili Rubbed Steak Tacos with Chimichurri — What We Make with What We Bring Home