As my regular readers know by now, many of my fondest childhood memories revolve around food: the planning of, the making of, the consumption of and the appreciation for the shared experiences food brought to our family and friends. I have a treasure-trove of short films that play out in my mind of memories, like barely being able to reach the counter, and “helping” mom roll out tortillas.
I close my eyes and I see our family sitting around the kitchen table, assembling a hundred tamales. There are memories of picnics at the beach with hot-off-the-grill burgers and hot dogs, and grilled corn that had been soaked in salty seawater first.
There are also memories of Mom getting up at an insane hour to make bean and rice burritos for our 2-hour annual road trip to Disneyland. And oh my goodness! The birthday cakes that she lovingly made for us in elaborate shapes: from Mickey Mouse to Cinderella.
There are also fond memories of special weekend meals made just for us, and just because. In this “just because” group of memories lives a picture in my mind of my dad sitting in a chair pulled up to the stove, tending to two huge — no, ginormous — thick-bottomed pots with the sounds of crackling and popping escaping from them. And, in his hand, to stir the meat, his giant wooden spoon (more the size of a paddle) with a handle at least two feet long that he made for this particular application: the ritual known as homemade carnitas.
Carnitas are super easy to make. Stripped down to their essence, they’re just a fatty cut of pork butt, salt, water and time. In this simplest of methods, I begin by adding chunks of fatty pork butt (aka, pork shoulder) to a Dutch oven or other heavy-bottomed pot and sprinkle a few pinches of good quality sea salt over the meat before adding water to cover by 1 inch. After bringing the pot to a rapid boil, I lower the heat to a just-barely-there simmer and leave the meat to cook, uncovered, until the water has evaporated, anywhere between 1 to 1 ½ hours. Once the water is gone, the pork will begin to render its fat. After another hour of slow simmering, when the fat has rendered, the chunks of pork are crispy on the outside and fork-tender on the inside.
Then there’s a second method that produces a more restaurant-quality level of tender, juicy carnitas. It takes a little more effort and several more ingredients, but it creates, in my opinion, an exceptional bite of tasty goodness. The ages-old secret is to confit the meat: poaching and cooking the pork in its own fat. Chunks of trimmed pork butt simmer in an equal amount of pork lard with a cup of water added to it (the water keeps the lard from getting too hot, allowing the pork time to cook before browning).
Adding orange juice and their spent rinds brings a pop of brightness and sweetness. As the water and orange juice evaporate, lots of tiny bubbles break the surface. Then, milk joins the party. The enzymes in the milk tenderize the pork, a secret I learned while watching Dad make his carnitas. Next comes the optional beer, which gives the pork another layer of flavor. Cinnamon, which pairs so well with pork, adds warm, earthy notes.
By the time all the liquid has evaporated, the pork is tender, and it’s time for the lard to work its magic, giving the carnitas their familiar, gloriously golden-brown crust. The combination of tender, juicy pork encased by a crunchy, baconlike exterior is by far my favorite taco filling.
Whichever method you try, carnitas make a great taco or a topping for a burrito bowl, if that’s your preference. I love to garnish with our family’s salsa cruda (cruda means raw), aka, pico de gallo. I’ve included a recipe for it here, too. If you prefer, top with your favorite brand of salsa, instead.
Leftover carnitas make a great addition to a pot of freshly made frijoles de olla. Just add some chunks to the beans during their last 15 minutes of cooking for a hearty stewlike meal. Or simmer the meat with your favorite salsa verde and serve over steamed white rice. Of course, reheating the leftover carnitas under the broiler and just stuffing warm tortillas with them is, again, never a bad idea.
Easy Carnitas Tacos
Unlike the version cooked in lard, you want to buy a cut of pork butt with the most fat and don’t trim it away. This fat will render, and that’s what will give the carnitas their crunchy, baconlike exterior.
Makes 8 servings
2-3 pounds pork butt
1 tablespoon coarse sea salt
Water
TO SERVE:
Salsa cruda (see recipe)
2 dozen corn tortillas
Lime wedges
Cut the pork butt into approximately 3-inch chunks. You don’t want them too small, or they’ll disintegrate during the rendering process. Place them in a heavy-bottomed pot in as close to a single layer as possible. Sprinkle the salt over the meat and add water to cover the meat by no more than 1 inch. Bring the water to a rapid boil, then drop the heat down to medium-low and slowly simmer the pork until the water has evaporated, about 1-1 ½ hours. To keep the pork from sticking, stir it every 15-20 minutes while it simmers.
Once the water has evaporated, the fat on the meat will begin to render. Continue cooking and stirring every 20 minutes or so on medium-low, about an additional 1-1 ½ hours. When most of the fat has rendered and carnitas have browned to your desired crispiness, transfer the pork to a paper towel-lined baking sheet. Set aside.
To serve, chop the meat into bite-size pieces. Use a griddle or large skillet to warm the tortillas. Add carnitas to a warmed tortilla and top with the salsa cruda, and finish with a squeeze of lime. Serve immediately.
Salsa Cruda
Makes about 2 cups
2 large Roma tomatoes, roughly chopped
⅓ cup finely chopped white onion
⅓ cup chopped cilantro, tougher stems removed first
1 serrano or jalapeño pepper, finely chopped (add more pepper for more heat; conversely, deseed pepper first for less heat)
Juice of 1 lime
Salt and pepper to taste
Toss all the ingredients together in a small bowl. Set aside, covered, until ready to use. Store leftover in a tightly covered container in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.
Traditional Carnitas
Although it’s never happened to me, I’ve had a few readers comment that the milk curdles when it’s added to the pot. That’s fine. We don’t care what it looks like; we just want the enzymes in the milk to work their magic, tenderizing the pork.
Makes 8 servings
2 pounds pork butt
2 pounds pork lard
1 cup water
2 oranges, washed and halved
4 fat cloves garlic, skins removed
½ medium white onion
1 large stick Mexican cinnamon
4 bay leaves
2 tablespoons coarse sea salt
1 tablespoon dried whole Mexican oregano, crushed between palms
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 cup full fat evaporated milk
½ cup beer (nothing too hoppy, can substitute with Mexican Coca-Cola for a sweeter finish), optional
2 dozen corn tortillas
FOR GARNISH:
Lime wedges
Chopped onions
Chopped cilantro
Salsa verde, your favorite brand or salsa cruda (see recipe)
Queso fresco
Trim away some of the excess fat from the pork butt, then cut it into 3-inch chunks. Set aside.
Add lard and water to a cold stockpot or Dutch oven. Turn heat to medium-high. Once the lard has liquefied, carefully add the meat. Squeeze the juice from the oranges directly into the pot, then drop in the spent oranges. Simmer on medium, uncovered, for one hour. Stir the meat every 15 minutes to ensure it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pot.
After the first hour of cooking, add the garlic, onion, cinnamon, bay leaves, salt, oregano, thyme, milk and beer (or co*ke, if using) to the pot. Stir well to combine. Continue simmering on medium heat, uncovered, for an additional hour. Stir meat at least every 20 minutes to make sure it’s cooking evenly.
When the meat is fork-tender and has browned to your desired color, use a slotted spoon to remove the carnitas to a fine mesh strainer held over the pot of simmering meat to drain some of the lard. Then transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to cool enough to handle. Once cool enough to handle, rough chop meat.
To serve, warm tortillas, fill with meat, then squeeze lime over the meat. Add optional garnishes as desired.
Some tips for success
- If you’re doing the plain water and salt method, fat is your friend. While shopping for pork, if you have a choice between a lean cut and one with more visible fat, get the visible fat cut. Once you’re getting ready to start cooking, don’t trim it off. The fat will keep the carnitas moist on the inside, flavors the meat and provides the “lard” that will render during the final cooking stage to give that desired crunchy exterior that good carnitas always have.
- If you dread stovetop braising because you have to constantly adjust the heat on your burners, it’s probably not your technique that needs to change; it might be your cookware. Your cookware has probably trained you to move the food around because an area of the pan burns or browns the food too quickly. A suggestion is to use a heavy-bottomed pot that conducts heat really well and very evenly. A heavy cast iron pan, a good quality Dutch oven, and a heavy copper bottom pot are what you need for this recipe, instead of a thinner stainless steel or aluminum pot. And you don’t have to spend a lot of money.
- Do cook on the stovetop and skip the oven — you aren’t cooking brisket. For best results, the meat should simmer slowly uncovered on the stovetop. If you put it in the oven, the meat will steam, producing a different texture that is fine for a roast, but not what you want for carnitas.
Recipes are copyrighted by Anita L. Arambula and are reprinted by permission from Confessions of a Foodie.
Arambula is the food section art director and designer. She blogs at confessionsofafoodie.me, where the original two versions of this article were published. Follow her on Instagram: @afotogirl. Email her at anita.arambula@sduniontribune.com.
