Carne guisada, Tex-Mex stew

I receive many emails from y’all, asking when I’ll be writing about a certain favorite Texan food. I’ve had requests for everything from deep-fried pickles to peanut-butter pie. But the most requested recipe is for carne guisda.

Carne guisada, which translates to “stewed meat,” is a slow-simmered dish that varies across the state. Some people make their carne guisada with pork, others with chicken. The most common meat used, however is beef.

Another variable with carne guisada is how the gravy is made. Some people opt to cook their meet with tomatoes, potatoes and sweet bell peppers, while others just simmer the beef in water and chiles.


You’ll see your carne guisada as a group of distinct cubes floating in a rich sauce. And you’ll see your carne guisada where the meat has cooked so long it’s hard to tell where the meat ends and the gravy begins. My carne guisada, like my chili, deliciously falls into the latter category.

Actually, the way I make my chili is very similar to the way I make my carne guisada. I start with a four-pound beef roast and cut it into one-inch cubes. I chop up my onions, my garlic and my chiles, sear the beef and then throw everything in a pot with some beer and water and let it cook for several hours.

The difference, however, between my chili and my carne guisada is the types of peppers I use. For my chili, I use smoky red chiles such as chipotles and anchos; for my carne guisada I use bright green chiles such as jalapenos and serranos. There are a couple of other differences as well. A tomato will never be seen in my chili, but I don’t mind adding a few to my carne guisada. I would never add a bay leaf to my chili pot, but I like the nuance it adds to my carne guisada. And while my chili making tends to be improvisational, I have a set recipe for carne guisada from which I rarely stray.

Carne guisada can be a meal in itself, served in a bowl with tortilla chips. It’s also wonderful nestled between refried beans and rice. I like to wrap it up in flour tortillas for tacos, and the leftovers are a hearty topping on a pile of scrambled eggs.

So for all that asked about carne guisada—here is my recipe. Now I have to say that this is my recipe, so it might not be like your grandmother’s recipe because that’s the thing about carne guisada—everybody’s is different all over the state of Texas.

How do you make your carne guisada?

Carne guisada
Ingredients
4 pounds of chuck or bottom round beef, cut into 1-inch cubes
4 tablespoons of peanut oil
1 medium onion, diced (about 1 cup)
5 cloves of garlic, minced (about 1/4 cup)
1 14.05 oz. can of diced tomatoes or 3 fresh tomatoes, diced
2 jalapeno peppers, diced
2 serrano peppers, diced
1 tablespoon cumin
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon oregano
1/2 cup of chopped cilantro
1 bay leaf
2 cups of water
1 12 oz. bottle of dark Mexican beer such as Negro Modelo

1 tablespoon of flour (optional)

Method
In a large pot or a Dutch oven, brown the beef on medium high heat in 2 tablespoons of the peanut oil, may have to do in batches.

Remove beef from pot, add the final 2 tablespoons of peanut oil and cook on medium heat the onions and chiles for about 10 minutes or until the onions are translucent. Add the garlic and cook for another minute.

Throw in the browned beef, add the herbs, spices, water, tomatoes and beer and mix everything really well. Turn up the heat to high, bring the stew to a boil and then turn heat down to low and simmer for five hours, stirring occasionally. At this point, some of the meat will have turned to strings thus thickening the gravy.

Note: If you want your meat to be distinct cubes rather than strings, lessen the cooking time. If you cook the stew for less time, you may also need to add some flour to thicken the gravy. Take out a 1/4 cup of the cooking liquid, stir into it a 1 tablespoon of flour and then incorporate this back into the stew. Stir until gravy has thickened. Also, I like my meat in big stringy chunks, but if you prefer smaller pieces, cut the meat into 1/2 inch cubes.

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Making my own Mexican chorizo

When I was young and silly, I found a recipe for mussels and chorizo. I loved chorizo—it was that tangy, spicy sausage I ate mixed with my scrambled eggs at my favorite Mexican breakfast joints.

The recipe called for slicing the chorizo, which I did. The chorizo was a little soft and squishy, but I managed to carve out a few pieces.

I threw it in the warm skillet. And almost immediately, the bright-red sausage squirmed free of its casing. Instead of round symmetrical slices of sausage, I had little bits and blobs of sausage. But I wasn’t that disappointed. It still tasted like chorizo should taste and I just thought that I’d bought a badly made batch of chorizo. (I was in Iowa, after all.)

I went back to the store and bought another package, this time checking the expiration date to make sure it wasn’t terribly old. Again, I took it home and tried slicing it. This time, it didn’t even wait until I added it to the skillet before slithering out of its case like a snake shedding its skin.

It occurred to me that perhaps I should read the package and see if it said anything about how to prepare the chorizo. And yes, the package said you were to remove the chorizo from the casing before cooking. I was doing something right. So how were you supposed to have sliced chorizo for the recipe? (Not that I’d ever eaten sliced chorizo in the first place.) “What a stupid recipe,” I thought to myself and proceeded to make tinga with my batch of chorizo instead.

It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized that Spanish chorizo, a slow-cured smoked sausage was probably what the recipe was calling for. Whereas Mexican chorizo—the sausage I grew up eating—is fresh and loose, no smoke or waiting necessary. And this makes it ideal for making at home.

When I made breakfast sausage last year—also a uncased simple sausage—a good number of you shared with me your methods for making homemade chorizo. And even though I can find Mexican chorizo occasionally at my local markets (and always at the Hispanic markets), it’s more bright, more fiery and more fresh when I make it myself.

Vinegar and chiles give Mexican chorizo its distinctive flavor. I choose to use apple-cider vinegar with a puree of ground guajillos, but I know some people who use red-wine vinegar with ancho chiles or white vinegar with paprika. And that’s the beauty of homemade chorizo—it can taste just they way you want.

But they best thing about homemade Mexican chorizo is that you don’t have to stuff the sausage into casing. I reckon some people do, but as you’re just going to remove it I really don’t see the point. And sure, the chorizo tastes better after it’s sat around for a while but if you don’t have time to wait, I find that it’s still delicious just after you’ve made it.

Mexican chorizo
Ingredients:
1 pound of ground pork
3 dried guajillos
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 medium onion, diced
3 cloves of garlic, chopped
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon paprika (not smoked paprika as Mexican chorizo is decidedly not a smoked sausage)
1/2 teaspoon oregano
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
2 teaspoons salt

Method:
In a dry skillet heated on high, toast the chiles on each side for about 10 seconds or just until they start to puff. Fill the skillet with enough water to cover chiles. Leave the heat on until water begins to boil and then turn off the heat and let chiles soak until soft, about 30 minutes.

After chiles are moist, drain the water and place the chiles and vinegar in a blender, also adding the diced onion and chopped garlic. Puree until a smooth, bright red paste is formed (can add a splash of water or vinegar if it's too dry to blend). It will look like ketchup.

Add the chile puree to the ground pork, along with the rest of the spices. Mix well. To test the flavors, pinch off a small piece and fry it up in a skillet for a minute or so. Taste it and add more spices if needed.

You can let it sit for a few hours so the flavors will meld, but I find it’s delicious just after making as well. Will keep in the refrigerator for a few days, and it freezes nicely.

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An epiphany about grapefruit

I have a confession to make: I don’t really like grapefruit. And this makes me sad. Don’t get me wrong—grapefruit is pleasing on many levels. It’s pleasing to the eye with its bright red color, pleasing to the nose with its clean, floral scent and pleasing to the touch with its receptive flesh. But for me, it’s not so pleasing to the taste—I find it too bitter and it makes my face contort into unattractive shapes.

I’m not completely adverse to grapefruit-flavored things. Fresca is one of my favorite soft drinks. And grapefruit bread, if done well, can be a delicious treat. But the thought of tucking my spoon into a halved grapefruit just fills me with dread. That is, unless you add sugar.

If you know me, you’ve probably heard me trumpet my lack of a sweet tooth. But I think we both know that I’m just lying to myself. And while it’s a New Year and like most people I am trying to temper some of my appetites in order to regain my pre-holiday health. I also can’t avoid that grapefruits are in season and if I’m going to get any joy out of eating them, I’m just going to have to add sugar.

When I was in Oxford, Mississippi back in October, I had the pleasure of eating breakfast a couple of times at the very fine Big Bad Breakfast—BBB for short. If you’re ever there, do yourself a favor and make a point of trying BBB’s house-smoked bacon and sausage, cheesy grits, fluffy biscuits and homemade jams. They also offer a half of grapefruit that’s been topped with a spicy sugar crust.

I didn’t order that when I was there but one of my friends did, and she got so much obvious joy out of digging her spoon through the crunchy shell into the soft fruit that it almost made me regret ordering biscuits and gravy instead of grapefruit. Almost.

When I recently got my hands on some big, juicy grapefruits, I decided that I would have to recreate that grapefruit brulée at home. I halved a grapefruit and sprinkled brown sugar and cinnamon over the fruit. I placed the two halves under the broiler for a few seconds and they came out a bit warm covered in glassy, shiny sugar layer. It’s sweet enough to cut back some of the grapefruit’s bitterness without the grapefruit losing its essence. And as it only takes a few minutes to make, I think I just may have my new go-to winter-morning meal.


OK, I’m lying again. I’d still rather have breakfast tacos or pancakes early in the morning. But even with the sugar, this grapefruit is healthy enough and so I might as well enjoy them while they’re in season. Heck, grapefruits could even become one of my favorite fruits.

Grapefruit topped with burnt brown sugar
Ingredients:
1 grapefruit
2 tablespoons of brown sugar
1 teaspoon of cinnamon

Method:
Slice your grapefruit in half at the equator. Sprinkle the cinnamon over the top of the grapefruit and then spread the brown sugar on top. Place under the broiler for 20 seconds and then dig in!

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