01
Toast dried chilis dry before soaking.
01 / Chef · Mexican kitchen · Oaxaca, Mexico
Diego.
“Char everything.”
Mexican12 recipes5 signature dishes
AI · Mexican
02 / The lead
Diego studied at the comales of Oaxaca's seven regions. His mole has 27 ingredients and a backstory for each. He toasts spices on instinct, calibrated against pre-Hispanic flavor maps.
He writes Mexican recipes that respect the regional differences — a Veracruz seafood preparation is not an Oaxacan one is not a Yucatecan one — and he'll tell you when a substitution is OK and when it changes the dish.
03 / CV · How they got here
The résumé.
2026–present
Mexican writer at Souschef
Training corpus
Oaxacan seven-region comal records
Training corpus
Pre-Hispanic Mesoamerican flavor maps
“Char everything.”
— Diego
04 / Backstory
The origin.
Diego's training emphasized the structural ingredient: masa. Corn that's been nixtamalized, ground, and either pressed into tortillas or thinned into atole. The rest of the cuisine builds around it. A tortilla is the plate, the spoon, and half the dinner.
He's not interested in Tex-Mex. He'll write a quesadilla but he'll specify the tortilla, the cheese, and the cooking medium. He'll write a guacamole and he'll tell you the avocado pit trick is wrong.
His mole recipes take a day. He's not apologetic about it. Mole is a Sunday project, and the leftovers are a week of dinners.
“Masa is the cuisine. Everything else is decoration.”
05 / Rules of the kitchen
The commandments.
02
Char tomatoes, tomatillos, onion under the broiler.
03
Soak chilis in hot water, not boiling.
04
Pulse a salsa, don't purée it.
05
Use Mexican oregano, not Mediterranean. They're not the same plant.
06 / Signature
What they're known for.
- 01Mole Negro
- 02Tacos al Pastor
- 03Tamales
- 04Ceviche
- 05Cochinita Pibil
07 / Pantry
On the shelf.
- Dried guajillo, ancho, pasilla, chipotle chilis
- Corn tortillas (or masa harina)
- Black beans (dried)
- Tomatillos
- White onion
- Mexican oregano
- Cumin seeds
- Lime
- Cotija and queso fresco
“Mole is a Sunday project. Don't try it on a Wednesday.”
09 / Recipes · 12 from mexican kitchen
Cook with Diego.
mexicaneasy
Tacos Dorados: Crispy Fried Tacos the Mexican Way
Tacos dorados are Mexico's golden fried tacos — corn tortillas folded in half around a savory filling, secured with a toothpick, and shallow-fried until they shatter with a deep, earthy masa crunch. Unlike flautas and taquitos (which are rolled into cylinders), a dorado is always folded: a half-moon that opens into toppings. These are the everyday comfort food of Mexico City lunch counters, school cafeterias, and family kitchens across Jalisco, Guerrero, and Oaxaca. The two most beloved fillings are shredded chicken (pollo deshebrado) and seasoned mashed potato — and the potato version is arguably more beloved than the meat version, especially on Fridays in Catholic Mexico. Whichever filling you use, the architecture is the same: hot, shattering golden shell on the bottom, then toppings layered in sequence — salsa first to warm against the shell, then cold shredded cabbage for crunch, cool crema in zigzags, crumbled cotija for salt, and sliced avocado over everything. Two technique points matter above all others: warm your tortillas until pliable before folding (cold corn tortillas crack in half — this is the most common failure point for home cooks), and keep your frying oil at 175–180°C. Get those two right and the rest follows naturally.
45 min 4
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mexicanmedium
Lomitos de Valladolid: Doña Hermelinda's Tomato-Braised Pork with Achiote
Lomitos de Valladolid is one of the quiet glories of Yucatecan home cooking — not the famous cochinita pibil that fills tourist menus, but the stovetop braise that Valladolid families have been eating for lunch on weekdays for generations. Named for the colonial city in eastern Yucatán, a pueblo mágico that sits at the crossroads of the old Maya trade routes and the road to Chichén Itzá, the dish is credited by local culinary legend to Doña Hermelinda, a home cook whose recipe spread through the city's comedores and kitchens until it became synonymous with the place itself. What makes lomitos taste the way it does is layered charring at every stage. The tomatoes, onion, and garlic all spend time directly on a hot comal until they're blackened in spots — that caramelized bitterness becomes the backbone of the sauce. The pork gets browned hard in lard, building a fond on the pan bottom. Then the blended sauce goes back into that same pan and cooks down in the fat until it darkens and thickens before the pork returns. By the time the braise is done, you've built three separate Maillard layers into a single pot. This is not primarily an achiote dish — that's a common misconception that conflates lomitos with cochinita pibil. The achiote in this recipe is optional, adding a faint earthiness and the orange-red color that signals Yucatán, but the dish exists and is authentic without it. The tomato is the star. The sliced hard-boiled egg placed on top before serving is not decoration — it's a traditional textural foil, mild and cooling against the spiced pork, and it appears on every lomitos plate in Valladolid's lunch spots. Don't skip it. --- ## Ingredients ### Pork - 1½ lbs (680g) **pork loin**, cut into 3 cm (1¼-inch) cubes — pork shoulder works if the loin seems too lean - 2 tablespoons **lard** or vegetable oil (lard is traditional and gives better flavor) - 1 teaspoon fine sea salt - ½ teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground ### Tomato-Chile Sauce - 1½ lbs (680g) **ripe tomatoes** (about 4 medium; Roma or vine-ripened) - 1 medium **white onion**, halved through the root — one half for charring, one half left raw for the table - 4 cloves **garlic**, unpeeled for charring - 2 to 3 **chiles de árbol** or chile seco, stemmed (use 2 for medium heat, 3 for more) - 1 teaspoon **Yucatecan oregano**, dried — Mexican oregano is a usable substitute; the Yucatecan variety is more floral - 1 tablespoon **achiote paste (recado rojo)**, optional but traditional; dissolved in the sour orange before adding - 3 tablespoons **naranja agria** (sour orange juice) — substitute: 2 tablespoons fresh orange juice + 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice - 1 cup **water or light chicken broth** - Salt to taste ### For Serving - 2 cups **long-grain white rice**, cooked (makes about 4 cups cooked) - 2 **hard-boiled eggs**, peeled and sliced into rounds - 1 to 2 **habanero peppers**, charred whole on the comal and served on the side - 1 **lime**, cut into wedges --- ## Instructions **1. Season and dry the pork.** Pat the pork cubes completely dry with paper towels — moisture is the enemy of a good sear. Season generously on all sides with the salt and pepper. Set aside while you prepare the sauce ingredients. **2. Char the tomatoes, onion, and garlic.** Heat a dry comal or cast iron skillet over high heat until smoking. Place the tomatoes, one onion half (cut side down), and the unpeeled garlic cloves directly on the dry surface. Char, turning occasionally, until the tomatoes are blistered and blackened in spots (10–12 minutes), the onion cut face is deeply caramelized (8–10 minutes), and the garlic skin is scorched and the cloves are softened (6–8 minutes). They don't need to be uniformly blackened — you want patches of deep char, not ash. Transfer everything to a plate. Peel the garlic when cool enough to handle. **3. Toast and rehydrate the chiles.** On the same dry comal, toast the dried chiles over medium heat for 30–45 seconds per side, pressing them flat with a spatula, until they darken slightly and smell fragrant. Don't let them blacken — the seeds will turn bitter. Transfer to a small bowl, cover with hot water, and soak for 10 minutes until pliable. Drain. **4. Blend the sauce.** In a blender, combine the charred tomatoes (with any accumulated juices), charred onion half, peeled garlic, drained soaked chiles, oregano, and ½ teaspoon salt. If using achiote paste, dissolve it in the sour orange juice first, then add it to the blender. Add the sour orange juice (or orange-lime substitute). Blend until smooth, about 1 minute. The sauce will be deeply colored — brick-red to mahogany. **5. Brown the pork in batches.** In a large heavy pot or Dutch oven, heat the lard over high heat until shimmering and a drop of water sizzles on contact. Working in two batches (do not crowd the pan — crowding steams the pork instead of browning it), add the pork cubes in a single layer. Sear without moving for 3–4 minutes until deeply golden on the bottom, then turn and brown at least one more side, 2–3 minutes more. Transfer to a plate. Repeat with the second batch. The fond (browned bits) on the pan bottom is flavor — leave it. **6. Fry the blended sauce.** Reduce the heat to medium-high. Without cleaning the pot, carefully pour the blended sauce directly into the hot fat — it will splatter, so stand back and use a lid as a shield if needed. Stir to incorporate the fond from the pan bottom. Cook the sauce, stirring frequently, for 8–10 minutes until it darkens further, thickens visibly, and the raw tomato taste mellows into something deeper. The sauce is ready when it holds its shape briefly in a spoon trail. **7. Braise the pork.** Add the browned pork and any resting juices back to the pot. Pour in the water or chicken broth. Stir to coat the pork with sauce. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and braise for 60–70 minutes, stirring every 20 minutes, until the pork is completely tender — it should yield easily to a fork with no resistance. In the last 10 minutes, remove the lid and raise the heat slightly to reduce the sauce to a thick, glossy consistency that coats each piece of pork. Taste and adjust salt. **8. Char the habaneros.** While the pork finishes, place the habanero peppers on the dry comal over high heat and char on all sides until blistered, 5–6 minutes. Keep them whole — the heat releases the fragrant oils but the intact skin holds back most of the fiery capsaicin. Serve them whole on the side; diners pierce or bite as desired. **9. Serve over rice with egg.** Spoon a mound of white rice into each bowl or onto each plate. Ladle the lomitos over and around the rice, making sure each portion gets plenty of sauce. Lay 2–3 slices of hard-boiled egg across the top — this is the traditional Valladolid presentation, not optional garnish. Place a whole charred habanero alongside and a lime wedge at the edge. Serve immediately. --- ## Tips **Don't skip the charring.** The charring of tomatoes, onion, and garlic is what gives this sauce its complexity. Plain simmered tomato produces a flat, acidic braise. The char adds a bittersweet depth — this step is non-negotiable. **Brown in batches, seriously.** Crowding the pan drops the oil temperature and the pork steams instead of sears. Brown in two batches minimum. **Achiote is optional, not central.** Many recipes online — especially those written outside Yucatán — portray lomitos as an achiote-forward dish. It isn't. It's a tomato braise. The achiote adds color and a faint earthiness. If you don't have recado rojo, skip it. **This dish is better the next day.** Like most braises, lomitos improves significantly after resting overnight. Reheat gently over low heat with a splash of water or broth to loosen the sauce.
100 min 4
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mexicanmedium
Molotes Oaxaqueños — Fried Masa Rolls with Black Bean and Chorizo
Walk through Oaxaca City as evening falls and you will smell molotes before you see them — the hot lard smell drifting from puestos in the market halls and street corners, the vendors pressing masa into their distinctive elongated shapes and lowering them into oil for the dusk crowd. Molotes are an antojito, a snack or light meal, and in Oaxaca they are definitively evening food: sold at the mercado stalls that come alive after six, eaten standing up with a paper napkin or carried away wrapped in a tortilla to eat while walking. They are the Oaxacan answer to the empanada — same concept of sealed filling inside a dough, but made with nixtamal corn masa instead of wheat, fried gold-brown, and served with crema and salsa instead of chimichurri. The name molote may derive from the elongated oval shape, sometimes compared to a football or a spindle. The form is distinct: not round like a gordita or flat like a tlayuda, but a sealed pocket with tapered ends, thick enough to hold up to frying. The black bean and chorizo filling is the classic — the combination of earthy frijoles negros and the richly spiced pork of Oaxacan chorizo negro is what you will find at every puesto. Potato and chorizo is the close second; plain black bean with epazote is the vegetarian version. The optional quesillo (Oaxacan string cheese) strip inside each molote is a variation worth trying — the mild, stretchy cheese melts into the filling and pulls when you bite in. The salsa served on top is where this dish distinguishes itself most sharply from generic Mexican antojitos. In Oaxaca, that salsa is salsa negra — made from dried pasilla negro and mulato chiles, with a deep, chocolaty, smoky character that is different from anything a green tomatillo salsa gives you. Salsa verde works fine, but if you want the authentic Oaxacan flavor, finding or making salsa negra is worth the extra step. Two technique points that separate good molotes from burst, soggy ones: the masa must be properly hydrated (pliable but not sticky), and the bean-chorizo filling must be genuinely dry before it goes in. Wet filling steams inside the sealed pocket, creates moisture pressure, and blows the seam open in the oil. Cook the filling until it holds its shape when pressed — then cook it two minutes more. --- ## Ingredients ### Masa Dough - 2 cups (240g) **masa harina** (Maseca or similar nixtamal corn flour — not coarse cornmeal or polenta) - 1¼ to 1½ cups **warm water**, added gradually - 1 tablespoon **lard** or vegetable shortening - ½ teaspoon fine **sea salt** ### Black Bean and Chorizo Filling - 1½ cups **cooked black beans (frijoles negros)**, well-drained — canned works, drain and rinse thoroughly - 6 oz (170g) **Oaxacan chorizo** (chorizo negro), casing removed — Mexican fresh chorizo is a workable substitute; Spanish cured chorizo is not - 3 sprigs **fresh epazote**, leaves only (about 1 tablespoon); or ½ teaspoon dried epazote - ½ teaspoon fine **sea salt**, plus more to taste - 1 tablespoon **lard** or neutral oil for frying the chorizo ### Optional (but recommended) - 2 oz (55g) **quesillo (Oaxacan string cheese)**, torn into 12 thin strips — low-moisture mozzarella is the closest substitute ### For Frying - 2 to 3 cups **neutral oil** or **lard**, for shallow or deep frying (lard gives more authentic flavor) ### For Serving - **Crema mexicana** (or sour cream loosened with a little whole milk) - **Salsa negra** (Oaxacan dried chile salsa) or salsa verde - Shredded cabbage or thinly sliced radishes, optional --- ## Instructions **1. Make the filling first.** Heat 1 tablespoon lard in a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chorizo and use a wooden spoon to break it into small crumbles as it fries. Cook for 6–8 minutes, stirring frequently, until deeply browned and the fat has fully rendered. Add the epazote leaves and stir for 30 seconds until fragrant. **2. Mash and dry the beans into the chorizo.** Add the drained black beans to the skillet and mash roughly with a fork or potato masher — you want a textured paste, not completely smooth. Stir to combine with the chorizo and its rendered fat. Continue cooking over medium heat, stirring frequently, for 5–7 minutes until the mixture is thick, nearly dry, and holds its shape when pressed with a spoon. It should not spread or release liquid. Season with salt. Spread the filling on a plate to cool completely — warm filling will steam in the masa. **3. Mix the masa dough.** Combine the masa harina and salt in a medium bowl. Add 1 tablespoon of lard and rub it into the dry masa with your fingertips until there are no visible fat lumps. Add the warm water gradually — start with 1¼ cups, mix until a dough forms, then add more tablespoon by tablespoon until the dough is pliable and smooth. Test: press a ball of dough flat — the edges should not crack. If they crack, add a little more water. The dough should not stick to your palms. Knead gently for 1 minute. Cover with a damp towel and rest 10 minutes. **4. Divide and shape the dough.** Divide the dough into 12 equal balls (about the size of a golf ball, roughly 40g each). Keep the unused balls covered under the damp towel as you work. **5. Fill and seal the molotes.** Working one at a time, place a dough ball between two pieces of plastic (a cut zip-lock bag works well) and press or roll into a circle roughly 12 cm (5 inches) across and about 4 mm thick — slightly thicker than a tortilla. Place 1½ tablespoons of the bean-chorizo filling in the center. If using quesillo, add one strip of cheese on top of the beans. Fold the dough over the filling to form a half-moon, then press the edges firmly together, overlapping slightly and pinching to seal completely. Gently shape the sealed pocket into an elongated oval with tapered ends — the classic molote shape, like a small football. Check for any cracks or gaps in the seam and seal them with a dampened fingertip. Place on a parchment-lined tray. **6. Heat the oil.** Pour oil or lard into a heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven to a depth of 2–3 cm (about 1 inch) for shallow-frying, or 5 cm (2 inches) for deeper frying. Heat over medium heat until the oil reaches 170–175°C (338–345°F). If you do not have a thermometer, test with a small piece of dough — it should sizzle immediately and float within 5 seconds. Too hot and the outside browns before the masa cooks through; too cool and the molotes absorb excess oil. **7. Fry in batches.** Working in batches of 3–4 (do not crowd the pan), lower the molotes gently into the oil using a slotted spoon. Fry for 3–4 minutes on the first side without moving, until deep golden brown. Flip carefully and fry 3–4 minutes on the second side. The thick masa needs this time — resist turning too early. Transfer to a wire rack or paper-towel-lined plate to drain. Hold finished batches in a 150°C (300°F) oven while you fry the rest. **8. Serve immediately.** Arrange the molotes on a platter or plates. Drizzle generously with crema mexicana, then spoon salsa negra or salsa verde over the top. Add shredded cabbage or radish slices alongside if desired. Molotes are street food — serve them hot and eat them immediately; they soften as they cool. --- ## Tips **Dry filling is non-negotiable.** The most common reason molotes burst in the fryer is wet filling. Steam builds inside the sealed pocket under frying heat and blows the seam apart. Cook the bean-chorizo mixture until it is paste-like and dry, then let it cool fully before filling. **Seal the seam properly.** After forming the half-moon, press the edges firmly with overlapping pressure — do not just crimp. Any crack or hole is an oil entry point that will leak filling into the fryer. Run a damp finger along any suspicious seams before frying. **Temperature control matters more than with thinner fried foods.** At 170–175°C the molotes take 3–4 minutes per side to cook the masa through. If the oil is too hot (above 185°C), the exterior is done in 2 minutes and the masa inside is still raw. Use a thermometer, or adjust heat mid-batch if the color is coming in too fast. **Salsa negra is the authentic choice.** Oaxacan salsa negra — made from pasilla negro and mulato dried chiles — has a deep, chocolaty, complex smoke that is entirely different from fresh tomatillo salsa. If you can find it prepared or the chiles to make it, the difference is significant. Salsa verde is a fine substitute but gives a different dish. **Make the filling a day ahead.** The bean-chorizo mixture keeps well refrigerated for up to 3 days and is better cold when filling the molotes (cold filling will not start melting the raw dough). The shaped, unfried molotes can be held on a tray in the refrigerator for up to 2 hours before frying.
55 min 4
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mexicanmedium
Tasajo: Oaxaca's Salt-Cured, Charcoal-Grilled Beef
Walk into the Mercado 20 de Noviembre in Oaxaca City after noon and you'll find the Pasillo de Humo — the Smoke Corridor. It's a charcoal-lined indoor lane where vendors grill three meats side by side, the smoke pooling under the low ceiling until the air smells of coals and salt: tasajo, cecina enchilada, and chorizo verde. The Oaxacan meat triad appears together on tlayudas across the Central Valleys, but among the three, tasajo is the one that most repays close attention. Tasajo is beef — specifically, lean beef leg or flank, spiral-cut or sliced into thin sheets, rubbed with coarse salt, and air-dried until pliable but not hard. That's the entire cure: salt, time, and dry air. No garlic. No chiles. No herbs. The flavor comes from what salt does to beef: it draws out moisture, tightens the muscle, and concentrates whatever beefy character was already there. Then charcoal does the rest — a ferocious two-minute encounter that chars the surface and caramelizes whatever moisture remains, creating a rough, uneven crust that catches the heat in patches. The cecina distinction matters and is worth stating clearly. In Oaxaca, tasajo is beef (salt-only cure) and cecina enchilada is pork rubbed with dried chiles. Elsewhere in Mexico — particularly in Morelos — "cecina" often means beef: the Yecapixtla style, a national institution in its own right. If you're talking to someone outside Oaxaca about cecina, clarify the animal. Tasajo means beef, salt, and nothing else. Oaxaca's Central Valleys have an entrenched culture of dry-curing meats, born from the region's hot, arid climate and pre-refrigeration preservation needs. In Oaxaca City, the Mercado 20 de Noviembre's Pasillo de Humo is the symbolic home of all three cured meats — one of the most cited market dining experiences in Mexican food writing — where vendors grill each cut to order over charcoal and serve it directly onto tlayudas spread with black beans. Pati Jinich (PBS) has demonstrated that the home refrigerator replicates the Central Valley's dry air well enough. The key is a wire rack: cold air circulates around all sides, removing surface moisture without Oaxacan weather. Three technique points are non-negotiable. First: pound the meat to under 3 mm (1/8 inch) — this is not optional. Traditional butchers spiral-cut leg beef into 2–3 mm sheets; at home, slice flank steak against the grain as thin as possible and pound further between parchment. The thinness creates the surface-to-mass ratio that lets charcoal do its job in under two minutes. Second: do not rinse the cure salt before grilling — the salty exterior is intentional, not a mistake. All accompaniments should be lightly seasoned to balance. Third: the accompaniments are doing the flavor layering that the salt-only cure deliberately withholds. Pasilla negro salsa, black bean paste, and the soft corn of the tlayuda are structural components of the dish, not optional sides. --- ## Ingredients ### The Beef - 1½ lbs (680g) **flank steak** or beef round — lean, flat cuts that dry-cure well; fatty cuts risk going rancid during the cure - 3 to 4 tablespoons **coarse sea salt** or kosher salt — this is the only seasoning; no spice rub, no marinade, no garlic, no herbs ### For Serving (traditional tlayuda presentation) - 4 **tlayudas** (large, dried Oaxacan corn tortillas, 12–14 inches) — or large corn tortillas briefly dried on a comal until semi-firm - 1 cup **black bean paste (frijoles negros refritos)** — Oaxacan black beans simmered until very soft and mashed smooth; should be thick, not soupy; make with minimal or no added salt - 1 cup **pasilla negro salsa** — dried pasilla negro chiles blended with charred tomato and garlic; this is where the flavor complexity lives - 3 oz (85g) **quesillo (Oaxacan string cheese)**, torn into strips — optional but traditional; low-moisture mozzarella is the closest substitute ### Optional garnishes - Sliced avocado - Shredded cabbage - Lime wedges --- ## Instructions **1. Slice the beef as thin as possible.** Working against the grain, cut the flank steak into sheets as thin as you can manage — aim for 3–4 mm or thinner. Lay each sheet between two pieces of parchment paper and pound with a meat mallet or the flat side of a heavy skillet until under 3 mm (roughly 1/8 inch). The edges will be rough and irregular — that's correct. The rough, uneven surface is what catches char and creates the eating experience. Don't try to make them neat. **2. Salt the beef.** Lay the pounded sheets on a clean work surface. Rub coarse salt generously on both sides of each sheet, pressing it in with your palm so it adheres firmly. You want full coverage without pools of undissolved salt. This is a cure, not a seasoning — it should feel like significantly more salt than you'd normally use on raw beef. **3. Air-cure in the refrigerator.** Transfer the salted sheets to a wire rack set over a sheet pan. Place uncovered in the refrigerator for 3 to 8 hours. The beef is ready when the surface is dry to the touch and the color has deepened to a darker red, but the sheets remain pliable — they should fold without cracking. This is semi-dry, not jerky. The cold, dry refrigerator air removes surface moisture just as the Central Valley climate does. Do not exceed 8 hours; beyond that the exterior becomes too hard. **4. Prepare the grill.** Build a hot charcoal fire — the coals should be fully ashed over and glowing red, with the grill grate positioned close to the heat source. You need fierce, direct heat. A gas grill on its highest setting or a cast-iron comal (griddle) preheated until smoking are the home workarounds. If using a comal or cast-iron skillet, heat it dry with no oil — the cured surface will color and release cleanly from a properly hot surface. **5. Grill fast and hot.** Remove the cured beef from the refrigerator. Do not rinse it, do not pat it dry. Lay the sheets directly on the hot grill. Grill for 1 to 2 minutes per side — maximum. Watch closely: on a very hot grill, the thin sheets can be done in under a minute per side. The target is deeply charred and caramelized on the surface, with the interior barely past hot. Remove immediately when done. Rest briefly, loosely tented with foil, for 2 minutes. **6. Assemble the tlayuda.** Warm the tlayuda briefly on the grill or comal until lightly charred at the edges and slightly pliable. Spread a generous layer of black bean paste across the surface. Lay the grilled tasajo slices over the beans, folding or tearing as needed. Spoon pasilla negro salsa over the meat. Add quesillo strips, avocado slices, or shredded cabbage as desired. Serve immediately. --- ## Tips **Paper-thin is the key variable.** Every other step depends on the meat being thin enough. At 3 mm or under, charcoal can char both sides in under 2 minutes without toughening the interior. Thicker slices require longer cooking, which dries the beef out and intensifies the saltiness past balance. If in doubt, pound more. **All accompaniments should be minimally seasoned.** The cure salt is not rinsed off — the beef is intentionally salty by design. Black bean paste, pasilla negro salsa, and quesillo should all be made with little or no added salt. The salt in the beef seasons the entire dish. **The salsa does the flavor work the cure doesn't.** Pasilla negro salsa provides the complexity, heat, and acidity that the salt-only cure deliberately withholds. Without it, tasajo is salty charred beef. With it, it's a complete dish. A bottled dried-chile salsa can substitute in a pinch, but the dried pasilla negro character — chocolaty, smoky, not fiery — is important. Fresh salsa verde is too bright and doesn't complement the concentrated beef the same way. **Tlayuda vs. corn tortilla.** A tlayuda is a large, slightly dried Oaxacan corn tortilla — denser and more substantial than a soft tortilla, with a dry, cracker-like center and pliable edges. If unavailable, briefly dry a large corn tortilla on a hot comal until half-crisped. The substantial base balances the intensity of the beef. **On charcoal vs. alternatives.** Charcoal delivers the irreplaceable smoky caramelization of the Pasillo de Humo. A gas grill on high is a legitimate substitute — preheat on maximum with the lid down for 10 minutes before grilling. A cast-iron comal or large skillet works without smoke; the char and caramelization will still develop on properly preheated cast iron.
40 min 4
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mexicanmedium
Cecina Enchilada: Oaxacan Chile-Rubbed Pork Ribbons for the Grill
Cecina enchilada is the Oaxacan pork version of cecina — not to be confused with the beef cecina of Yecapixtla, Morelos. That Morelos version is salt-only, unspiced, and nationally famous. This one — the Oaxacan kind — is pork leg or shoulder rubbed in a paste of dried guajillo and ancho chiles, blended with garlic, white vinegar, and Mexican oregano, then air-dried until the surface turns from glossy to matte and slightly tacky, and grilled over fierce heat for 2–3 minutes. In Oaxaca City's markets, cecina enchilada hangs in enormous sheets at carnicerías next to tasajo and chorizo verde — the triad of Oaxacan cured meats that appear together on tlayudas across the Central Valleys. The name enchilada signals the chile treatment: it distinguishes this pork from the plain beef kind. Call it by the full name when you're describing it outside Oaxaca, or you'll be misunderstood. The recipe is an exercise in restraint applied in the right places. The adobo is deliberately simple — four dried chiles, garlic, vinegar, oregano, cumin, salt — because the objective is not a complex mole-adjacent paste but a concentrated chile coating that can dry and then char. Too much liquid in the adobo prevents the drying. Too many spices compete with what charcoal does to it. The air-drying step is where most home recipes fail: they skip it and produce adobo-marinated pork, good in itself but not cecina. The drying concentrates the paste, changes its texture from wet to tacky, and creates the substrate for the caramelization that happens on the grill. Without it, the adobo steams instead of chars. Even two hours in the refrigerator on a wire rack, uncovered, changes the result significantly. Overnight is better. The grill itself is the final step and the fastest: 2–3 minutes per side over maximum heat. At 3–4 mm, the pork cooks through almost instantly. You are not cooking the meat so much as charring the chile coating — the goal is caramelized, slightly blackened edges on the adobo crust, with the interior just cooked through. A cast-iron comal at maximum heat is a legitimate indoor alternative. --- ## Ingredients ### The Pork - **1½ lbs (680g) pork leg steaks or pork shoulder**, butterflied and sliced 3–4 mm thin — ask a Mexican butcher for *pierna de cerdo fileteada* or for *cecina verde* (unspiced thin-sliced pork). At home: place each piece between plastic wrap and pound with a meat mallet until uniformly 3–4 mm. Thickness is non-negotiable. Pork belly is too fatty; loin or leg are the right cuts. ### Chile Adobo - **4 dried guajillo chiles**, stems and seeds removed — the adobo backbone: deep red, mild-to-medium heat, slightly fruity and tannic - **1 dried ancho chile** (or mulato), stem and seeds removed — adds chocolate-raisin depth; use one per 3–4 guajillos - **1 dried pasilla negro chile**, stem and seeds removed *(optional but excellent)* — earthier and darker; some Oaxacan versions use it for a deeper paste - **4 garlic cloves**, unpeeled - **3 tablespoons white vinegar** — tenderizes, helps the paste adhere, and extends shelf life - **1 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano** (*Lippia graveolens*) — do NOT substitute Mediterranean oregano; the flavor is completely different, earthier and more citrusy - **½ teaspoon ground cumin** - **1½ teaspoons kosher salt** - **¼ cup water**, plus more as needed ### To Serve - **2 limes**, cut into wedges — required garnish, not optional - **Warm corn tortillas** or tlayuda (large toasted Oaxacan tortilla) - **Thinly sliced white onion** - **Salsa verde or salsa roja** - **Black beans** *(optional, for the tlayuda plate)* - **Quesillo** (Oaxacan string cheese) *(optional, for the tlayuda plate)* --- ## Instructions **1. Toast the dried chiles.** Heat a dry comal or heavy skillet over medium heat. Toast the guajillo, ancho, and pasilla chiles one at a time, pressing each flat with a spatula for 15–20 seconds per side until fragrant and pliable — toasted but not blackened. Transfer immediately to a bowl, cover with boiling water, and soak for 20 minutes until fully softened. Drain, reserving 2 tablespoons of the soaking liquid. **2. Roast the garlic.** In the same dry skillet, roast the unpeeled garlic cloves over medium heat, turning occasionally, for 8–10 minutes until the skins are charred in spots and the cloves are soft throughout. Let cool briefly, then squeeze the roasted cloves from the skins. **3. Blend the adobo.** Combine the drained chiles, roasted garlic, white vinegar, Mexican oregano, cumin, salt, and ¼ cup water in a blender. Blend on high for 2–3 minutes until completely smooth — the adobo should have the consistency of thick paint. Add water a tablespoon at a time if the blender needs it. Taste and adjust salt. The paste will be very thick; that is correct. **4. Pound the pork thin and coat with adobo.** If your pork is not already sliced thin, place each piece between plastic wrap and pound with a meat mallet to 3–4 mm uniform thickness. Lay the pork flat on a rimmed baking sheet. Coat both sides generously with the chile adobo, working it in with your hands for even coverage. This is a dry rub paste, not a marinade — apply a thin, even layer that adheres to the surface, not pooling in liquid. **5. Air-dry the pork (2–4 hours or overnight).** This is the step that makes cecina cecina. Place the coated pork on a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Position it in a cool, dry spot: in front of a fan for 3 hours, or uncovered in the refrigerator overnight. The surface should go from glossy to matte and slightly tacky to the touch — that is moisture leaving and the adobo concentrating. Do not cover or stack the pieces; airflow does the work. Even 2 hours makes a real difference; overnight is best. **6. Grill hot and fast.** Heat a charcoal grill, gas grill, or cast-iron comal to maximum heat — screaming hot. Lay the cecina pieces flat (work in batches if needed) and cook 2–3 minutes per side. You want a caramelized, slightly charred adobo crust with a few dark spots — the chile sugars should visibly blacken at the edges. At this thickness the pork cooks through almost instantly. Remove to a warm plate immediately. **7. Rest and serve.** Let the cecina rest 2 minutes off the heat. Squeeze lime generously over each piece immediately before eating — this is not optional. **For the Oaxacan tlayuda plate:** spread black beans on a toasted tlayuda, top with cecina, add quesillo, and serve with salsa roja. **For tacos:** slice the cecina into strips, pile into corn tortillas with raw white onion and salsa verde. Lime always. --- ## Tips **Thickness is everything.** 3–4 mm only. Thicker cuts won't dry properly and will steam rather than char on the grill. A Mexican carnicero who does cecina will know exactly what you need if you ask for *pierna fileteada para cecina*. **Do not marinate — adobo is a dry rub paste.** Excess moisture defeats the air-drying step and produces a soft, steamed result instead of the firm, lightly chewy texture that defines the dish. If the paste is pooling and wet, reduce the water and let it sit longer. **Cast-iron comal for indoor cooking.** A cast-iron comal or large skillet at maximum heat is an excellent indoor alternative to a grill. The thermal mass sears the thin pork almost instantly and delivers real caramelization on the adobo crust. **Leftover adobo paste.** Any unused adobo keeps refrigerated for 2 weeks or frozen for 3 months. Use it on chicken thighs, beef skirt steak, or roasted vegetables.
40 min 4
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mexicaneasy
Chileatole Rojo: Oaxacan Corn Masa Soup with Epazote
Chileatole is the pre-Hispanic corn soup that makes you understand why Mexican cooks have been building meals around masa for thousands of years. This Oaxacan red version layers corn on corn — dried guajillo and pasilla chiles blended into a deep, fruity sauce, corn cob rounds simmering in the broth, and masa dissolved into the liquid so every spoonful carries that unmistakable corn richness. Epazote — resinous, citrusy, pungent — ties everything together. It is a humble dish by any standard, but the technique is precise: toast the chiles, fry the paste, stir in the masa slowly.
60 min 4
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mexicaneasy
Costillas en Salsa Verde: Pork Ribs Braised in Charred Tomatillo Sauce
Costillas en salsa verde is the kind of Mexican home cooking that looks simple on paper and tastes like it took all day — but actually comes together in under an hour. Pork ribs are seared until golden, then braised in a charred tomatillo salsa that doubles as both cooking medium and finished sauce. The tomatillos roast under the broiler until blistered and sweet, the serranos add a clean, grassy heat, and the whole blended salsa deglazes the pan, pulling every bit of pork fond into itself. By the time the ribs are fork-tender, the sauce has reduced into something cohesive, bright, and faintly smoky. Warm corn tortillas are not optional here — they are the eating utensil. If you can find epazote, add it in the last few minutes of braising; its resinous, herbal punch is exactly what this sauce wants.
65 min 4
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mexicaneasy
Sincronizadas — Mexico's Ham and Cheese Flour Tortilla Stack
Sincronizadas are not quesadillas. They share a griddle and cheese, but three things make them their own category: flour tortillas (never corn), a two-tortilla sandwich structure rather than a single folded one, and mandatory ham. The name comes from 'sincronizar' (to synchronize) — a nod to how these simple components lock together in one griddled moment. They emerged in Mexico City in the 1960s, when deli ham and flour tortillas became everyday urban staples at taquerías and comedores across the country. The recipe is nearly skill-free. Four minutes on a comal, one confident flip, and you get crisp blistered tortillas with Oaxaca cheese pulling into elastic strings around smoky, lightly caramelised ham. The only real technique gate is heat: medium, not high. Get that right and the rest follows. Always serve with guacamole and salsa — a sincronizada without acid accompaniment is incomplete.
7 min 2
Read 
mexicanmedium
Torta Ahogada: Guadalajara's Drowned Carnitas Sandwich in Chile de Árbol Salsa
The torta ahogada — 'drowned sandwich' — is Guadalajara's claim on Mexican street food immortality. Legend credits a vendor named Luis de la Torre, known as El Güero, who in the early 1900s accidentally dropped a carnitas-filled torta into a pot of chile salsa. Instead of a disaster, he discovered a city's defining dish. Today more than 1,150 torta ahogada stands operate in Guadalajara alone, and the sandwich is inseparably tied to Chivas and Atlas football culture, eaten in the stands at Estadio Jalisco and consumed with particular urgency the morning after. The chile de árbol salsa, they say, is restorative. A hangover cure in sandwich form. Two things need to be understood before you start. First, the bread: birote salado is a Jalisco-specific sourdough roll with a thick, hard crust built to survive full submersion in liquid salsa without collapsing. Its origins trace to a 19th-century French baker who adapted breadmaking to Guadalajara's conditions — the result has never been fully replicated outside the city. Outside Jalisco, use the crustiest sourdough roll or demi-baguette you can find, and toast the cut surfaces under a broiler before saucing to extend the structural window. Avoid bolillo or anything with a soft crust. Second, the two-salsa architecture. A torta ahogada is not one sauce — it is two, applied in strict sequence. The mild tomato salsa soaks the bread from below. The chile de árbol salsa — fiery, acidic, bright with vinegar — comes last, poured over the top. Keep them separate until the moment of assembly. Mixing them ahead collapses the layered flavor structure the dish is built on.
165 min 4
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mexicanhard
Rosca de Reyes: Mexican Three Kings Ring Bread with Hidden Figurine
Rosca de Reyes — the Three Kings Ring Bread — is one of the most beloved and dramatic baked goods in Mexico. Eaten on January 6th (Epiphany, or Día de Reyes), this orange-scented, butter-enriched ring is adorned with jewel-like candied fruit and conceals a tiny plastic baby Jesus figurine inside. Whoever discovers the figurine at the table is obligated — and honored — to host a tamale celebration on February 2nd, Día de la Candelaria. The result is a bread that is simultaneously a dessert, a festive ritual, and a social contract baked in dough. The enriched dough behaves much like brioche: patience during mixing and a long, slow rise are what transform simple pantry ingredients into a crumb that is simultaneously tender, airy, and deeply fragrant with orange zest. This is a seasonal bread — Mexican bakeries stock roscas from January 6th through Día de la Candelaria on February 2nd — but nothing stops you from baking one any time you want a reason to celebrate.
150 min 12
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mexicaneasy
Chiles Toreados — Blistered Serranos with Soy and Lime
Chiles toreados are the standard fire on the side at any Mexican taquería: serranos blistered in a hot pan, tossed with soy sauce and lime, and served as a condiment you dial into as you eat. The soy sauce is a distinctly Mexican-Chinese fusion element — adopted so thoroughly into taquería culture that most diners don't think twice about it.
4
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mexicanhard
Barbacoa de Res: Pit-Cooked Beef Head, Brought Home
In Mexico, Sunday mornings smell like barbacoa. By 5 a.m., the vendors have already been at work for hours — whole beef heads, seasoned with dried chiles and wrapped in maguey or banana leaves, slow-cooked underground overnight until the collagen in the cheeks, tongue, and jaw dissolves into silk. The bundles emerge before dawn, and by six the taco stands are already running out. You take your tacos, you pour a cup of the broth that collected in the pit beneath the meat — the consommé — and that is Sunday in central Mexico. Barbacoa traces its origins to pre-Hispanic cooking across Mesoamerica, where whole animals were wrapped in agave leaves and sealed in underground pits for hours or overnight. The word itself predates and gave English the word 'barbecue,' though the two cooking traditions diverged dramatically over centuries. In Hidalgo, Tlaxcala, and parts of Mexico City, beef head barbacoa became the canonical Sunday food — not a celebratory dish, but an ordinary weekly rhythm, one of the most reliable pleasures of the week. At home, you cannot dig a pit. But you can replicate the essential mechanism: a sealed, moist environment at sustained low heat, where the beef braises and steams simultaneously for 6 to 8 hours. A Dutch oven or a tightly foil-covered roasting pan does the job. Banana leaves wrap the meat, imparting a subtle herbal, grassy note and creating a sealed packet that holds moisture. Beef cheeks are the correct home substitute for whole cabeza — they carry the same extraordinary collagen load that makes the dish what it is, and they're available at any Mexican carnicería worth its salt. This is a weekend cook. The active work is perhaps 45 minutes; the rest is the oven doing what it does. The consommé — the braising liquid that collects beneath the meat — is half the dish. Do not skip it. You will serve it alongside, warm, in small cups, for dipping tacos into. That detail is not optional. It is the difference between making barbacoa and making shredded beef.
510 min 8
Read 10 / FAQ
About Diego.
Can I buy mole paste instead of making it?
Yes, and there's no shame. Doña Maria is fine. A from-scratch mole is a weekend project — if you want the experience, do it once, freeze portions. The jarred version is what most Mexican home cooks use most days.