Slow-Cooker Carnitas

Christmas 2019. The last Christmas before retirement. The last Christmas I'll carry the mailbag. The last December of early-morning routes through cold streets with heavy bags and holiday cards. Next Christmas I'll be retired, and the word doesn't scare me anymore — it sits comfortably now, the way a well-worn shoe sits on a foot that knows it, broken in by a year of conversations and paperwork and the slow acceptance that an ending can be a beginning if you let it.

David came to Christmas again. This year he walked into the house with the ease of a man who has been here before and knows where to put his coat and where to find the sweet tea and how long to sit by the smoker before Big E considers you patient enough. He brought gifts: a cookbook of Chinese home cooking for Rosetta, a bottle of hot sauce from Nashville for me, and for Mama — who he visited on Christmas Eve with Charlie — a container of dumplings that she ate and pronounced "honest" again, which is now his word, his compliment, his seal of Pearlie Mae approval that he carries like a medal.

The smoked ham. The sides. The family. The plate for Denise. The prayer that names her. The candles. The choir. The midnight kiss — "Merry Christmas, Earl." "Merry Christmas, Rosetta." Thirty-five Christmases together, and each one is the same and each one is different, the way a fire is the same element every time you light it but a different shape, a different warmth, a different story told in light and heat.

Year three ends. 2020 is coming. The baby is coming. The retirement is coming. The changes are coming, fast and slow at once, the way smoke moves — deliberate but unstoppable, filling every space, touching everything, changing the flavor of whatever it reaches. I am ready. Not because I'm brave. Because I've been tending fires for forty-five years, and a man who has tended fires for forty-five years knows that the fire doesn't end when you stop adding wood. The heat stays. The smoke stays. The warmth stays. And the food that the fire produced — the shoulders, the ribs, the chickens, the turkeys, the hams, the sausage links, the briskets, the wings, the lives fed and the love expressed — that food is the legacy, and the legacy is permanent, and permanent doesn't need tending.

Low and slow. Year four begins. The fire continues.

When I talk about fires, I’m not just talking about the smoker — I’m talking about anything that takes time, that rewards patience, that fills a house with a smell that pulls people in from the cold. This slow-cooker carnitas is that kind of recipe: you season it, you set it, you let it go low and slow, and hours later it rewards you with something so tender it practically tells its own story. David might have brought the hot sauce and Mama might have blessed the dumplings, but when it’s just me and Rosetta and the house is quiet and warm, this is the pot I come back to — because some fires you don’t have to tend every minute to know they’re still burning right.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 8 hours | Total Time: 8 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 to 4 lbs bone-in pork shoulder (butt roast), trimmed of excess fat
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, smashed
1 orange, juiced (about 1/3 cup)
1 lime, juiced
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
Warm tortillas, cilantro, diced onion, and salsa for serving

Instructions

Mix the rub. In a small bowl, combine salt, black pepper, smoked paprika, cumin, oregano, garlic powder, onion powder, and cayenne. Stir until evenly blended.
Season the pork. Pat the pork shoulder dry with paper towels, then rub the spice mixture all over every surface, pressing it in so it adheres well.
Build the base. Scatter the chopped onion and smashed garlic across the bottom of your slow cooker. Set the seasoned pork on top, fat side up.
Add the liquid. Pour the orange juice, lime juice, and chicken broth around the sides of the pork — not over the top, so the crust stays intact as it cooks.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 8 hours (or HIGH for 4 to 5 hours) until the pork is completely tender and falls apart when pressed with a fork.
Shred and crisp. Transfer the pork to a large sheet pan, shred it with two forks, and spread it out. Spoon a few tablespoons of the cooking liquid over the top. Broil on high for 4 to 5 minutes until the edges are caramelized and crispy.
Serve. Pile the carnitas into warm tortillas and top with fresh cilantro, diced white onion, a squeeze of lime, and your salsa of choice. Enjoy with family — the more crowded the table, the better.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow-Cooker Carnitas — Low and Slow, Just Like the Man Who Taught Me Fire