Birria, the soul of Jalisco

It's a lovely crisp autumn Sunday here in Vancouver, and one of the best things crisp cool days are good for is slow-cooking food. After a week out of town where I had to subsist only on Canadian food, I was craving something Mexican, and something I hadn't tried my hand at yet is Birria.

I'm amazed how quickly Birria's popularity is sweeping the North American continent all of a sudden, and the attention is well deserved. First of all it's delicious! What's not to love about succulent, slow-cooked goat, lamb, or beef? And second, it's super versatile. Eat it as a stew with a spoon? Great! Put it in tacos? Why not. A quesadilla? The people in Tijuana sure thought that was a good idea and Quesabirria became an instant hit. Ramen noodles? Chef Antonio de Livier in Mexico city gave it a go, and the world hasn't looked back.

Birria is one of so many terrific dishes invented not out of creativity, but more out of a Nuisance Wildlife Management program. Like coq au vin, veal, and I assume a number of other dishes around the world, what do you do with an animal that's driving you nuts? You cook it up.

Before the arrival of the Spaniards, the Meso-Americans mostly enjoyed turkey as their primary meat protein. If anyone offers to make turkey tamales with Thanksgiving leftovers, don't laugh, because that's about as authentic as they get. The Spaniards brough all kinds of animals with them. Some, like domesticated pigs and chickens, were thoroughly embraced, and became a staple food and welcome barnyard friend. Others, like goats, not so much.

See, their reputation is true: goats eat everything. EVERYTHING. And when you're a starving subsistence farmer struggling under the hand of a colonial power, and suddenly the local goat eats your entire summer crop, he starts to look a lot more like food than friend.

Goat meat can also be gamey. Really gamey. The Spaniards let the locals have all the goats they wanted (the word "birria" actually refers to the fact that goats were literally discarded by the Spaniards), but the locals couldn't put up with the goats wrecking their crops, so what was to be done? The villagers of Cocula, Jalisco, Mexico realized they could have their goat and eat it too if they just adapted some older recipes and marinated and spiced up the goat meat to make it more appealing, so that's what they did. And Birria was born.

Officially, Birria is a type of Adobo. Adobos (including world-famous Filipino Chicken Adobo) are a type of slow-cooked, spicy, vinegary stew. Just like the vinegared sushi rice in Kyoto, Japan (another story for another day), the salty vinegared adobo marinade was originally used as a food preservative. But as food preservation methods got better, people realized the marinade was just as good to eat as the thing it's supposed to preserve, and so adobos were born.

When researching the recipe I was going to use, a few things were consistent across all the recipes:

• A blend of dried peppers, rehydrated in water, and then blended into a paste, usually with garlic. This blend almost always consists of ancho, guajillo, and chipotle peppers, sometimes with the addition of mirasol/cascabel chiles or others. I always keep ancho and guajillo on hand so I was in business.

• The goat, lamb, or beef is marinated in the chili paste plus water and vinegar at least overnight (that's why birria is often a lunch or even breakfast food).

• Then the whole mixture is slow-cooked until it's fall-apart tender.

The thing the recipes could NOT agree on was what specific blend of spices go into the chile paste. I did some not-quite-scientific research to try to at least go with the majority, and here's what I found:

I'm sure people have opinions, and there are probably some inviolable family recipes out there, but it seems mostly a matter of taste. I decided to play it safe with the heavy hitters: black pepper, cumin, garlic, Mexican oregano, cloves, and bay leaves. Because I have a particular fondness for allspice in recipes like this (it's one of the few spices native to Central America, whereas cinnamon and nutmeg are not), I used that instead of cinnamon. Do what makes you happy.

(By the way, one of the reasons I adore the cooking of Northern Mexico, like Jalisco, is that it tends to employ the kinds of spice blends I grew up with in Texas: earthy blends of ancho and guajillo chiles, whole or ground cumin seed, rich meaty broths and sauces. We'll get into those regional differences another time. But the first time I tried Birria, I knew that it was a keeper.)

Here's the recipe I went with:

• 2 lbs goat, lamb, or beef - true to the history, the 2 lbs of lamb shank I purchased were certifiably gamey smelling . . . I hope the spices work

• 3 Tbsp vinegar (recipes disagree on white vs cider, so pick your favourite)

• 3 Tbsp kosher salt

• 2 dried ancho chiles, stem and seeds removed

• 2 dried guajillo chiles, ditto

• 2 chipotle peppers - I didn't have whole ones so I used the equivalent mass chipotle chili powder

• 3 garlic cloves

• 1 tsp cumin seeds

• 1/4 tsp black pepper

• 2 cloves

• 1 bay leaf

• 2-3 allspice berries

• 1/2 Tbsp Mexican oregano

• 1/2 cup beef broth (optional, but especially good if your meat is boneless)

Instructions:

1. Place the chiles and garlic cloves in a pot of about 2 cups water, and bring to a gentle boil.

2. Meanwhile, put the meat in a secure container and add the vinegar and salt, to start brining.

3. Once the chile mixture reaches a boil, lower heat and simmer for 10-15 minutes. The water should turn a rich reddish brown and the chiles should be soft.

4. Transfer the chiles, garlic, and as much liquid as needed, along with all the dry spices, into a blender and blend until smooth. Per my previous post, if you wanted to hold out the Mexican oregano until close to serving time, you'll get a more aromatic Birria.

5. Add the paste, plus any remaining liquid, to the container with the meat and vinegar, and ensure the meat is well coated. Marinate in the refrigerator at least overnight.

6. When ready to cook, transfer to a slow cooker or dutch oven (covered). If your meat was boneless, you may want to add about 1/2 cup of beef broth to make up for lack of the flavour that would have come from the bones.

7. Slow cook / braise until the meat is fall-apart tender. How you do this isn't that important as long as you're targeting 300ºF [updated] for around 4 hours, or the 1 hour meat setting equivalent if you're using a pressure cooker like an Instant Pot.

From there, what you do with it is limited only by your imagination. Stew, tacos, quesabirria, noodles. . . . Birria pizza? With some shredded Oaxaca cheese? Why not. Sounds great to me.

Birria keeps for several days in the refrigerator, so you've got some spice in your life for at least a few days.

References:

• Birria. Wikipedia.

• The Origins of Birria. Vallarta Eats.