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Mexican Pork & Pinto Beans — The Recipe You Write Down and Underline

Made the chili Saturday.

I'd been building toward it since September, since I pulled out the old notebooks and looked at the progression over the years, since the scouting trip when I decided this would be the year the recipe stopped changing. I cut the elk shoulder and neck meat into cubes Sunday, after the hang. Kept them big — thumb-sized — because elk is lean and it needs size to survive a long braise without drying out. I set them in the fridge overnight with salt and a little dried oregano. Just resting. Settling into itself.

Saturday morning I started early. Toasted the dried chiles in a dry pan — anchos and guajillos in equal parts, maybe four of each — until they bloomed and smelled like something you'd follow across a room. Soaked them in hot water for thirty minutes. Blended them with the soaking liquid, some garlic, a little apple cider vinegar, smoked paprika. That paste is the backbone of the whole thing. If it's right, the chili is right.

Browned the meat in batches in the Dutch oven, good color on every piece. Didn't rush it. Added the chile paste, the browned meat, a can of whole tomatoes from Mom's garden that we'd put up in August, beef stock, and one bottle of non-alcoholic beer — a dark amber one, malty, the kind Tom Whelan suggested years ago that I finally tried. Put the lid on, turned it to the lowest setting on the stove, and left it alone for four and a half hours.

I knew when I lifted the lid the first time to stir at the two-hour mark. The smell was different from other years. Deeper and less sharp, more integrated. I stirred it and put the lid back and let it go another two and a half hours and then I tasted it and I knew. This was the one. Not because it was perfect in some absolute sense. Because it was complete. I didn't want to change anything. That feeling — of having arrived somewhere after years of moving toward it — is one of the better feelings I know.

We ate it that night, the three of us, with cornbread Mom made. Dad had two bowls. I wrote down the final recipe in the spiral notebook and underlined it. Done.

The recipe I wrote down that night — the one I underlined — has its roots in the same building blocks I’ve been working with for years: dried chiles, long heat, patient browning, and meat with enough mass to hold together through a real braise. This Mexican Pork & Pinto Beans version is the translation I reach for when I want to share what that Saturday tasted like with someone who doesn’t have elk in the freezer. The pork shoulder carries the same lean-to-fat ratio that rewards a slow cook, the pinto beans absorb everything the chile paste gives them, and the whole pot arrives at that same place — integrated, deep, complete.

Mexican Pork & Pinto Beans

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs 30 min | Total Time: 3 hrs 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 2 1/2 lbs pork shoulder, cut into 1-inch cubes
  • 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 tsp dried oregano
  • 3 dried ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded
  • 3 dried guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded
  • 4 cloves garlic, peeled
  • 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • 2 tbsp neutral oil
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) whole peeled tomatoes, crushed by hand
  • 2 cups low-sodium beef broth
  • 2 cans (15 oz each) pinto beans, drained and rinsed
  • Fresh cilantro and sour cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

  1. Season the pork. The night before or at least 2 hours ahead, toss the pork cubes with 1 1/2 tsp salt and the dried oregano. Refrigerate uncovered until ready to cook.
  2. Toast and soak the chiles. Heat a dry skillet over medium heat. Toast the ancho and guajillo chiles in batches, pressing them flat for 20–30 seconds per side until fragrant and slightly darkened. Transfer to a bowl, cover with 2 cups hot water, and soak for 30 minutes until softened.
  3. Build the chile paste. Drain the chiles, reserving 1/2 cup soaking liquid. Blend the chiles with the reserved liquid, garlic, apple cider vinegar, smoked paprika, and cumin until very smooth. Season with a pinch of salt and set aside.
  4. Brown the pork. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches and without crowding, brown the pork cubes on two or three sides until deep golden, about 3–4 minutes per side. Transfer browned pieces to a plate and repeat with remaining pork.
  5. Build the braise. Return all pork to the Dutch oven. Pour in the chile paste, crushed tomatoes, and beef broth. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom. Bring to a simmer.
  6. Slow cook. Reduce heat to the lowest setting, cover, and cook for 2 hours, stirring once at the 1-hour mark. The liquid should barely bubble.
  7. Add the beans. After 2 hours, stir in the pinto beans. Replace the lid and continue cooking for an additional 1 hour 30 minutes, until the pork is very tender and the sauce has deepened in color and flavor.
  8. Taste and finish. Remove the lid, taste for salt, and simmer uncovered for 10–15 minutes if you prefer a thicker consistency. Serve in bowls with cornbread, topped with cilantro and sour cream if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 620mg

Ryan Gallagher
About the cook who shared this
Ryan Gallagher
Week 187 of Ryan’s 30-year story · Billings, Montana
Ryan is a thirty-one-year-old Army veteran and ranch hand in Billings, Montana, who cooks over open fire because microwaves feel dishonest and because the quiet of a campfire is the only therapy that works for him consistently. He hunts his own elk, catches his own trout, and makes a camp stew that tastes like the mountains smell. He doesn't talk much. But his food says everything.

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