September approaches and with it the anniversary of Rosa's death — the second. And Alejandro's presence is woven into it now, because Alejandro died in February and the grief has merged — not two griefs but one grief with two faces, the mother and the father, the cook and the builder, the woman who made the food and the man who built the house to eat it in. I don't separate them anymore. I light the candles side by side — Rosa's and Alejandro's — and the flames lean toward each other, and I choose to believe that the leaning is intentional.
The bakery is preparing for fall — the seasonal transition from ceviche and elotes to champurrado and tamales. Sofia has proposed adding pan de elote — Mexican corn bread, sweet and moist and made with fresh corn — as a fall special. I tasted her prototype and it was excellent: the corn was sweet, the texture was dense without being heavy, the cinnamon was present but not dominant. She is thirteen and she is developing recipes. She is thirteen and she has recipes that are hers, not mine, not Rosa's, but Sofia's, and the emergence of Sofia's recipes alongside Rosa's and mine is the proof that the notebook will never stop growing, that the tree will keep adding rings, that the branches will keep reaching.
Luis Jr. called on Sunday — longer this time, ten minutes. He is approaching the end of basic training. Two more weeks. He sounds like a man, which is both the point and the loss — the Army promised to turn him into a man and it did, and the boy I mailed stale conchas to is becoming someone I recognize but don't fully know, the way you recognize a face in a crowd but can't quite place it. He is my son. He is also someone else's soldier. And the someone else has claims on him now that I don't, and the sharing is the hardest part of military motherhood — not the danger, not the distance, but the sharing.
I made tostadas de ceviche this week — crispy tortillas topped with the last shrimp ceviche of the summer, a farewell to the warm-weather menu. The ceviche was perfect: the shrimp firm, the lime sharp, the cucumber cool. I ate one standing at the bakery counter and thought: goodbye, summer. Goodbye, ceviche. Hello, champurrado. Hello, tamales. The seasons turn and the menu turns and the life turns and the turning is the thing. The turning is everything.
The tostadas de ceviche were my farewell to summer — I ate one standing at the counter and felt the season close quietly behind me. But before I put the warm-weather menu fully to rest, I wanted one more dish that carried that same bright, citrusy fire: Quick Tacos al Pastor. The pineapple and the chile, the char and the lime — it’s the taste of something ending beautifully, the way a candle flame leans just before it goes still. Sofia is already dreaming about pan de elote and champurrado, and she’s right to dream forward, but these tacos are my way of saying: summer, you were good.
Quick Tacos al Pastor
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 4 (2 tacos each)
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs boneless pork shoulder or pork loin, thinly sliced
- 3 tablespoons achiote paste (or 2 tablespoons chili powder mixed with 1 teaspoon paprika)
- 2 tablespoons fresh orange juice
- 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, plus wedges for serving
- 2 tablespoons white vinegar
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
- 1 cup fresh or canned pineapple, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
- 8 small corn tortillas, warmed
- 1/2 white onion, finely diced
- 1/2 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
- Salsa verde or hot sauce, for serving
Instructions
- Make the marinade. In a large bowl, whisk together the achiote paste, orange juice, lime juice, white vinegar, garlic, oregano, cumin, and salt until smooth and well combined.
- Coat the pork. Add the thinly sliced pork to the marinade and toss to coat every piece evenly. Let it sit for at least 10 minutes at room temperature while you prepare the other ingredients. (If time allows, marinate covered in the refrigerator for up to 4 hours.)
- Sear the pork. Heat the vegetable oil in a large cast-iron skillet or heavy pan over medium-high heat until shimmering. Working in batches to avoid crowding, add the pork slices in a single layer. Cook 2–3 minutes per side until lightly charred at the edges and cooked through. Transfer to a cutting board and rest 2 minutes, then chop roughly.
- Char the pineapple. In the same skillet over high heat, add the pineapple chunks and cook undisturbed for 1–2 minutes until caramelized on one side. Stir once and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat.
- Warm the tortillas. Heat the corn tortillas directly over a gas flame or in a dry skillet for 20–30 seconds per side until soft, pliable, and lightly toasted with a few char spots.
- Assemble the tacos. Layer each tortilla with a generous spoonful of the chopped pork and a few pieces of charred pineapple. Top with diced white onion and fresh cilantro. Serve immediately with lime wedges and salsa verde on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 480mg