Among world’s cuisines, Mexico’s has an interesting trichotomy. There are traditional Mexican dishes steeped in indigenous traditions, ingredients, and culture. Then, there are dishes that have evolved from colonization and the introduction of post-Columbian components. (Most Mexican beef dishes fit in this category.) Then, there is an evolved Mexican cuisine, bordering on haute, that is being experimented with and served today at some of the world’s top restaurants. These contrasts make it one of the most exciting, interesting, and diverse cuisines to study.
I have loved Mexican cuisine since I was old enough to know it, and in many cases, Mexican recipes were some of the first I practiced when learning how to cook. That said, I am neither native Mexican, nor have I traveled the country completely. So, to write an article about classic Mexican beef dishes, I turned to a handful of chefs, cookbook authors, and recipe developers who are true experts.
Contributing is Alfredo Garcia, author of “Let’s Make It!,” as well as chefs Alex Tellez of Philadelphia’s Sor Ynéz, Patricio Wise of Nixtaco Mexican Kitchen in Rosedale, California, and Mariano Takinami, of Cabo-based Bar Esquina. Last, and not least, James Beard winning food writer Rick Martínez, author of the essential Mexican cookbook, “Mi Cocina,” also contributed.
Although talking specifically about a dish called machacado, Martínez shared with me one thought that encompasses much of the soul of Mexican cooking: “It’s a reminder that the best meals don’t always begin with abundance,” says Martínez. “Sometimes they begin with preservation, with intention, and with the quiet wisdom of those who came before us — making something out of what little they had, and passing down a dish that still feeds us today.”
Cortadillo norteño
Beef cortadillo is a iconic Mexican beef dish to know, especially if you are intrigued by the regional cuisine of the country’s northern states, such as Chihuahua, Sonora, and Nuevo León. Cortadillo, which is a sort of beef stew, originates from the latter state, but you’re just as likely to find versions from Chihuahua and Sonora with great-tasting beef, given either state’s reputation for ranching and cattle farming. “In many households,” says chef Patricio Wise, “[cortadillo] would be a weekly staple as a daily lunch that would last into the following days for leftovers, or prepared for a Sunday gathering with the entire family.”
The stew is made from an abundance of commodity ingredients, making it an inexpensive, easy, and filling dish for the whole family: A typical cortadillo will have onions and garlic, poblano peppers, potatoes, tomatoes, and a lot of seasonings. As for the beef, chef Wise says that with “traditional cortadillo, the ideal cut is beef chuck — known in Mexico as diezmillo. It has just the right balance of meat and connective tissue to become tender and flavorful as it simmers.” If looking for a leaner meal, top sirloin, called pulpa negra, might also be considered.
Once your aromatics are started and your beef has been seared, ripe plum tomatoes will be cooked down into a sauce, but you shouldn’t simmer for days here. Per Wise, cortadillo sauce should be the color of bricks and thick enough to coat a spoon, but the beef must have more structure than barbacoa.
Birria de res
Besides barbacoa and carne asada, birria is by and large one of the most popular beef dishes to come from Mexico, especially considering that half the culinary world has been birria-ized over the past few years. The dish comes from the northern state of Jalisco, Mexico, where it has a history of being made with goat or mutton, before colonizers introduced beef more prominently. These days, the best birria cut to use may well be chuck roast. “The dish is traditionally cooked in an underground oven over the course of a few days,” says chef Alex Tellez. “Cooks can achieve something similar at home by braising and slow cooking the meat.”
Because it’s cooked long and low, birria can feel similar to barbacoa – both have a sort of shredded texture — but the flavors are much different. That mostly comes down the consommé that birria is cooked in and served alongside. After searing, an au jus-like sauce made of roasted and blended peppers is poured in as a stewing liquid that will impart flavor and help to break down meat. When shredded and stuffed in tortillas, you get birria tacos. If you see quesabirria on the menu, it means that the tacos have been pan-fried with cheese.
Chef Tellez explains that most people use guajillo peppers for consommé, adding that he prefers “Cascabel chili peppers.” Albeit mild in heat, the chef tells us the Cascabel is a touch acidic, imparting a “woody, earthy flavor” to both the birria meat and consommé. As for other tips, chef Tellez advises home cooks to avoid a common pitfall: “One mistake people make is trying to rush the process, and they end up using too much heat and boiling the meat, which makes it dry.”
Barbacoa
Anyone with a vague familiarity of Mexican food knows barbacoa, a delicious dish made from steam cooking beef in a pit. Chef Patricio Wise tells us that prior to the introduction of bovine species to Mexico, it was goat and lamb that were more regularly pit roasted. You’ll still frequently encounter both non-beef version of barbacoa around Mexico, but travel north to Nuevo León, Coahuila, and Tamaulipas, and chef Patricio insists that beef will be the centerpiece, given the regional ranching traditions.
Similar to birria, barbacoa is served with a consommé. While the meat is usually incorporated in a taco, using it in flautas, burritos, or quesadillas is also common. As for the type of beef that’s best for barbacoa, there are many schools of thought. Cookbook author and recipe developer Alfredo Garcia says that chuck roast is the best option if you’re looking to feed a crowd. Wise agrees, but also adds that “The absolute gold standard for barbacoa de res is cachete (beef cheek), prized for its marbled fat and gelatinous texture when slow-cooked.” If you can’t make a barbacoa purely from cachete, Garcia recommends buying what you can and mixing it in.
“Whether you’re cooking barbacoa in a pit, a Dutch oven, or a slow cooker, it’s all about controlled moisture,” insists chef Wise. “You want the meat to braise, not roast.” Wrapping your meat in maguey (agave) or banana leaf is a typical method to manage humidity, but tin foil may be more accessible. As for when to eat barbacoa, Garcia says for his family, “barbacoa is mostly a breakfast dish. We set a big pot of it on the table along with all the fixings.” Make sure your table has salsas, cilantro, lime, and corn tortillas.
Picadillo
“Picadillo is one of those very sensitive recipes where everyone grew up having it a specific way,” Alfredo Garcia tells us. “Everyone’s mom and grandma made it different. It’s the beauty of this dish and cooking, how one dish has hundreds if not thousands of different ways it can be made.”
As a dish which has differing versions that appear across Cuba, Puerto Rico, Spain, the Phillipines, and Mexico, picadillo variations can be hard to pin down. In Mexico, its a dish made from ground beef, onions, potatoes, and carrots, while the sauce usually includes tomatoes and jalapeño peppers. Some recipes may contain peas, while seasonings usually include Mexican oregano and cumin.
Because picadillo is such a simple recipe to follow, it’s a great introduction to cooking Mexican beef dishes. Still, there are some small steps that can make a positive impact on the end result. “A non-negotiable for picadillo is always adding in a bit of water when all ingredients have been added,” says Garcia. “Cover the pan with a lid, reduce heat to low and let it simmer away (usually until the [vegetables] are tender).” Once you’ve tried picadillo at a restaurant, or made your own, you’ll begin to see that it’s not only a standalone dish you can eat alongside rice, but an ingredient in its own right.
Take chiles en nogada as an example. Chiles en nogada is a poblano pepper that’s been stuffed with picadillo filling. As a dish that was once allegedly served to the emperor of Mexico, this plate is historic. Though pork sometimes features in chiles en nogada, carne de res is frequently used as a filling.
Caldo de albóndigas
Point to a country on the map where beef is regularly eaten, and you’ll find a country with its own unique spin on meatballs. Caldo de albóndigas, or meatball soup, is Mexico’s claim, though truly, the dish has a multicultural origin. Its history traces to Spain, then further back to the Middle East and areas of Spain that were once under Muslim control. In these regions, albóndigas have diverse seasonings and sauces. In Mexico, albóndigas means meatball soup through and through.
The albóndigas that make up the body of a Mexican soup have a unique texture that’s slightly airy rather than dense, springy instead of stodgy, and totally moorish. That’s thanks to the inclusion of uncooked rice, which expands when cooked to add substance to the meatballs without much extra thickness.
“The sizing of the albóndigas truly depends on your preference,” says cookbook author Alfredo Garcia. “Make them smaller or bigger. I prefer slightly bigger because they look better and always stay extra juicy inside.” As for the soup, potatoes, carrots, corn, and celery are frequent additions, along with squash or zucchini. Garcia says its traditional to use herbs as a topping. Epazote and mint are fragrant options to set your caldo de albóndigas on a different direction, but if you prefer classic and familiar pairings, cilantro and lime are always a welcome finish, too.
Carne asada
If there is a quintessential beef dish that embodies the spirit of Mexican cuisine, it’s carne asada. What seems simple — the dish is a marinated, grilled steak — isn’t actually all that straightforward.
As James Beard winning author and food writer Rick Martínez says, carne asada has greater importance than just being a plate of meat. “In northern Mexico, especially in the state of Sonora, carne asada is much more than grilled beef,” he says. “It’s a ritual of reunion, an anchor of community, and a defining feature of regional identity … A carne asada isn’t just what’s served; it’s the name of the event, the occasion, and the experience.”
Why Sonora in particular? Well, the region is known for its longstanding ranching traditions, which translates to a great availability of beef and butchers to sell it fresh cut for carne asada. According to Martínez, Sonoran beef has unique terroir. Cattle graze on native dessert grasses rich in minerals like potassium, magnesium, sodium, and copper. The arid landscape and its fauna subtly affect influence on the flavor of the meat.
When in Mexico, you’ll find carne asada in taquerias and fondas alike, and it’s also common in Tex-Mex spots around the States, too. In his book, “Mi Cocina,” Martínez notes that there are many cuts of beef that can be used for carne asada, but you should expect meet cut to be a half-inch or thinner. There are tons of recipes and tips for preparing your own carne asada, but one thing to remember? How you marinate carne asada plays a big role in the final outcome of your dish.
Pozole de carne
Pozole is a rich, spiced stew-like dish you’ll find served at pozolerias all across Mexico. It’s also one that Mexican families make constantly, both to mark important events or to have a nourishing bowl of food to enjoy during the weekend. Pozole has always had a history as a celebratory, indigenous food, although that history isn’t always … savory. Some historians believe that the Aztecs would eat pozole made from the flesh of enemies, (as well as pozole from turkey or hairless Xoloitzcuintle dog meat). Post-Columbian pozole lends preference to pork as the main protein, but the dishes mixed-meat history means that its possible (and likely) to find pozoles made from beef.
Pozole is one of those dishes where great liberty is taken. Everyone has their own recipe and tips, and thus one order of pozole de carne (alternatively, pozole de res) is sure to be different from the next. Fortunately, that means if you’re craving a homemade version, it’s a choose your own adventure situation.
Executive chef Mariano Takinami of Cabo-based Bahia Hotel & Beach House’s Bar Esquina recommends getting creative with the cut of beef you choose, saying, “Choose a balanced mix of cuts — I recommend using feet, shank, ribs, oxtail, and brisket. The cuts with bone and collagen build depth of flavor in the broth, while brisket adds body and protein.”
Typically, pozole comes in one of three colors: rojo, verde, and blanco. The difference is determined by the spices and aromatics added to the stew broth. Another key ingredient of the dish is hominy, or corn kernels that are enlarged and softened through the process of nixtamalization. A tray of accoutrements is also customary, as besides the protein and hominy, radishes, onion, cilantro, lime, and cabbage help to fill the dish.
Tasajo
“Tasajo holds a special place in my heart,” chef Mariano Takinami says. “It reminds me of joyful family moments in Oaxaca.” Mexico’s beloved south-central state has a lot of unique foods, from spicy, crunchy chapulines to the misnomered Mexican pizza, originally known as tlayuda; tasajo is another true standout you’ll find in the region. Its name comes from the word tasajear, meaning “to slice,” which accurately describes these sheet-thin, jerkyesque pieces of meat. Tasajo is more an ingredient than it is a dish in-and-of itself.
Once a piece of meat is cut for tasajo, the beef is heavily and evenly salted and left to sun-dry. According to Takinami, oil or lard may be rubbed on the surface to prevent too much moisture loss, though preservation is the goal here. “The quality of tasajo depends on the cut,” says Takinami. You might expect premium cuts to be the best here: ribeye or NY-strip, for example, but per the exec chef, “The most prized version – tasajo de hebra — actually comes from the leg. It’s more traditional and flavorful.”
Once tasajo is dried fully, it becomes an incredible ingredient to fill tortas, quesadillas, or burritos. It might be grilled or pan-fried. You may see it in mole or stew. Tlayudas are one of the most common dishes to feature it; when folded into the large, nixtamalized tortilla, tasajo makes the accompanying spread of black beans, quesillo cheese, and cabbage come alive with bovine flavor.
Caldo de res
If meatballs are a ubiquitous international form, then soup is one of humanity’s core pillars of food. Caldo de res, or beef broth in English, is an excellent example of why: it’s nourishing, not so complicated to cook, and a comfort food sure enough.
In comparison to pozole, the broth of caldo de res is thin, which makes it a decent sup at any time of the year. A good caldo de res will be made from long-simmered bones (bonus if marrow is involved), enriched by hearty vegetables — carrots, chayote, zucchini, onions, and garlic. For the beef, quality and cut will vary. Because the beef does such heavy lifting in most caldo de res recipes, it needs great consideration. “Choose flavorful cuts,” advises Mariano Takinami. “Use ribs, shank, and beef spine for depth of flavor, and brisket or rump for meatiness.”
Similar to most Mexican foods, the later additions are important not so much for the etiquette as they are about rounding out flavors and adding dimension. Caldo de res should come with a plate of thinly sliced serrano chile, diced white onion, plush slices of lime, and warm tortillas, per Takinami.
Machaca (or machacado)
The beef component of machaca, sometimes called machacado, is another type of dried meat, carne seca. It’s tougher and more jerky-like than tasajo. “Carne seca traces back to the ranching culture of Coahuila and Nuevo León,” says chef Patricio Wise, “where cattle herders would sun-dry thin strips of beef on stretched wire frames under the blistering desert sky.” Once carne seca has been prepared, machacado can be made.
To make machaca, carne seca is rehydrated, then pounded until it becomes filamented. Shredded and soften, it becomes machaca. In northern Mexico, it’s typically turned into a breakfast dish, per Wise. Both he and Rick Martínez seem to agree that the timing of when you serve machaca is important. “There’s a rhythm to machaca,” says Martínez. “You wake up early, reheat the beans, fry some tortillas, and get a pan hot with lard or oil. Then in goes tomatoes, chile, onion then the machaca, oftentimes scrambled with eggs.” With that, you have machacado de res con huevo.
Traveling through Mexico, machaca can be sourced from butchers and markets and street vendors alike. Martínez tells us that in cities such as Hermosillo or Ciudad Juárez, machaca is sold by the bundle, and sometimes even vac-sealed and shipped cross country.
“The sun, the dryness, the land itself — gives the beef its unmistakable intensity,” Martínez says. “You’re not just tasting meat. You’re tasting the land it was raised on.” But you’re also tasting the individual creativity and circumstance of those who prepare machaca. When making it, “some add only garlic and chile; others stew it with beer and onions until it melts into tender shreds,” says Martínez. “There’s no single “authentic” way — just what’s passed down, what tastes like home.”
Source: tastingtable
