Birria de Cordero
I had the idea yesterday morning to try my hand at making birria. I started exploring the neighborhood on foot, in search of a nice hunk of goat. Surprisingly, the first two butchers I stopped in did not have a decent piece on hand. Running shorter and shorter on time (the meat needed to be in the marinade for at least 4 or 5 hours), I decided to purchase a nice looking hunk of lamb shoulder. While I would have preferred goat, I justified my decision thusly:
--Bayless' recipe (the recipe that I am working from) calls for goat or lamb and makes no distinction in either one being more or less authentic or delicious.
--Diana Kennedy's recipe in
The Essential Cuisines of Mexico actually calls for a variety of meats, including veal, to my surprise.
--I am willing to wager that more than half the time I have ordered goat in a restaurant in Chicago, I have been served lamb.
So, why birria? As I mentioned
earlier in this thread, this is one of those situations where I hoped to gain a better appreciation for a dish that I enjoy. "Learning the process to appreciate the dish" has emerged as a leitmotif for this cookbook exploration. At first glance, this is a deceptively simple recipe: marinate the meat, steam/roast the meat, finish the broth, and serve.
I gathered my lamb, fresh tortillas, a few other ingredients for a guacamole and made my way home to get my
mise en place:
The lamb spent almost 5 hours bathed in a thick puree of
chiles guajillo, garlic, and spices:
Then it spent three hours standing above water in a dutch oven inside a 325-degree-oven sealed with masa*:
I question the necessity of this step when using a heavy, cast iron dutch oven. That heavy lid wasn't leaking a drop. I sincerely doubt that the masa seal added anything to the steaming process.
Bayless' recipe has one rather surprising final step: Trim the meat of any extra fat and gristle, remove any bones, glaze with some of the reserved chile puree, and bake on a baking sheet for 10 minutes. I'm not sure if I can recall ever eating birria with a "post-roast" glaze.
Finishing the broth required the addition of tomatoes, oregano and salt. This is the point in the process that obviously takes skill and experience. My broth suffered from a variety of issues: too tomatoey, a little too watery, and under-seasoned. I blame the last one on Bayless' recipe which overall contains a very small amount of spice for the amount of meat and broth. Also, the
guajillo could use a little balance from another, more aggressive chile, to suit my tastes. (Ms. Kennedy adds
chile ancho as well).
This was not the worst birria that I've ever had, but it was far from the best. My wife, who I do not think was in the mood for this dish last night, was decidedly unenthusiastic about the whole thing. I didn't think it was a very bad first attempt.
The completed product, garnished with white onion, cilantro, and lime:
Best,
Michael
*In one of the most staggeringly bone-headed moves I have ever made in my kitchen endeavors, I sealed the dutch oven with masa before I actually put the water in, requiring me to un-seal and do it all over again. It was definitely one of my top 5 kitchen "D'oh!" moments.
Antonius provides more information on cooking birria in this post.