Easy

Be sure to purchase the meatiest short ribs available, without too much fat. They should be thick-cut, 1- or 2-bone size, about 4 inches long, and almost 2 1/2 inches thick. As an interesting alternative to beef, you could try buffalo short ribs. Either way, be sure the meat is fresh and bright red. For the richest, most succulent short ribs, seek out a premium butcher shop where they sell prime beef short ribs, which will have an amazing marbling of fat. Cook over the lowest temperature possible, always below a simmer (you’ll see evaporation, but no movement of liquid) until the meat is ultra-tender and falling off the bone. The flavors here are sweet-and-sour Latino, matched well by your favorite dark beer. Caramelized onions make a hearty winter garnish, and very thinly sliced red onions are a fine partner in the summer.

The first time I had these tacos was as a teenager on a working ranch owned by family friends outside of Guadalajara. A cadre of cooks from the same family—grandmother, mother, daughter—ran the kitchen. I was fascinated by how they used a comal set over a wood fire to dry-roast the tomatoes. I had never seen tomatoes cooked that way, nor had I ever stood before a live fire in a kitchen, with its bright, dancing flames and the crackling of the wood. The smoky, earthy atmosphere of that kitchen permeated the sauce made with supersweet tomatoes, vibrant onions and garlic, fiery chiles, and aromatic cilantro—so different from any other tomato sauce I’d ever eaten, such a different world of flavors and techniques. That day was one of the transformational moments in my cooking life.

This is a very rustic, traditional recipe created for its portability. The charros, the nomadic first cowboys of Mexico and the American Southwest, traveled by horseback far from home so their food was limited to simple choices like jerky that stayed fresh on the trail. You’ll find a wide variety of commercially prepared dried beef and buffalo jerky available today, including ones flavored with chiles. Be sure to use an all-natural, preservative-free jerky with consistent color that is fresh and flexible and packaged in an airtight bag. Jerky can be rehydrated directly in boiling water, but most of the flavor will be lost in the water. A tamale steamer or vegetable steamer works well for this process.

This favorite of American households is the usual “starter” taco served at schools, airports, and drive-ins, and undoubtedly what most of us picture when we think of tacos. It’s the familiar fried folded corn tortilla shell layered with shredded iceberg or romaine lettuce, piquant fresh tomato salsa, and a cumin-flavored ground beef filling topped with grated cheese—but this one is so much tastier. As with any taco served in a crispy shell, fill and eat it right away or it will get soggy. Try to buy a high-quality ground beef, preferably pure ground chuck with a 25 to 30 percent fat content. Less expensive hamburger grinds will work fine, but they won’t be as flavorful or juicy.

In the meat section of Mexican markets are large trays of pork or beef sitting in a thick red chile sauce that acts as both tenderizer and flavoring. This is carne adovada. At home, the mixture is slow-cooked into a stew along with additions like posole and vegetables. The chile sauce is a link back to the days before refrigeration, when chiles were used at the market as a preservative. Bueno Foods makes a delicious sauce using New Mexican red chiles that is perfect for this recipe (see Sources, page 167).

A wildly popular Latin snack food throughout the Americas, chicharrones are made from pork belly that has been cooked for a long time with the skin on, and contains a little meat (what we think of as pork rinds in the United States). Though usually eaten as a crispy snack, they also make a tasty taco filling when heated in a sauce until softened and chewy. The most unusual chicharrones are those made from the whole pork skin fried in one piece—they’re about four feet long by two feet wide and resemble some dried prehistoric animal. You’ll see them for sale on weekends along the highways in areas of Mexico where there are a lot of pigs, sometimes next to a huge pot of pork fat boiling over an open fire. They’re almost always made to order; you stop and buy a piece or buy the whole thing. I’m guessing you only see them by the highways because they are so enormous you need a car or pickup truck to get one home.

This is a very simple country-style recipe, kind of like the old family standby of fried pork chops, and is quite tasty if prepared correctly. It is important not to overcook the pork or it will be dry and chewy. In Mexico, pork shoulder chops or other secondary cuts are traditional, but I’ve used pork loin here to make preparation as easy as possible. Leave any fat on the loin to help keep it moist. If your loin is very lean (and modern pork tends to be very lean), letting it sit in a brine made of 8 cups water, 2 tablespoons kosher salt, 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, and 1 head garlic, halved, for 2 hours will make the pork juicier and give it a nice aroma.

The Sonoran landscape is riddled with mesquite trees, wild chile bushes, and barbecue pits. Not surprisingly, the Sonoran people are known for their fiery barbecued meats. Children and grownups alike gather wild chiltepin chiles from the bosque—the forested banks of rivers and streams—and sell them in the markets or next to the serious speed bumps in the road where you must slow down or lose your transmission. This recipe is typical of ranch-style cooking in northern Mexico except that a modern indoor oven replaces the traditional wood-fired barbecue pit. This recipe makes enough for a crowd. To halve, use two and a half pounds bone-out pork butt or four pounds country-style pork ribs, and halve the remaining ingredients, adjusting the cooking time accordingly. Note that the pork must marinate overnight.

Bacon has become a culinary star again, and there are now so many flavors of bacon and ways to enjoy it—traditional smoked bacon, jalapeño bacon, turkey bacon, bacon candy, bacon salt, bacon cocktails, and—the most unusual—bacon ice cream! There are even bacon clubs that deliver different kinds to your door every month. It’s the bacon that gives these tacos their flavor. My preference is a natural, nitrate-free, applewood or hickory-smoked bacon that I buy as a slab, rather than presliced, so I can cut strips as I prefer them, about three-eighths inch thick. Most grocery stores and butcher shops sell thick-cut bacon. Also available is center-cut bacon, which is leaner with a higher yield of meat, much like very lean Canadian bacon (which is actually cured pork loin), in extra-thick slices. Wild boar bacon (see Sources, page 167) is particularly tasty for this recipe.

In Spanish, carnitas means “little meats,” and this is probably the most popular taco in Mexican cuisine. The pork pieces are succulent, juicy, and rich with a browned crust from frying—perfect for tacos. The best places in Mexico for this taco are at carnitas restaurants. Every town has one or more, some open only on weekends. You’ll see huge cauldrons—thirty gallons or more—of boiling pork fat holding whole pork loins, shoulders, and other big cuts like ribs. The chef closely monitors the frying temperature, pulling out the meat at just the right moment—when cooked, but still juicy. Customers say which cut they want and how much, always getting a mixture of lean and fatty meats, which make better tacos. The meat is weighed and chopped. Once you’ve paid, you take your carnitas to a table set up with fresh tortillas and bowls of salsa. Order a couple of cold beers and you are in taco heaven. This recipe is much simpler and easier, and the carnitas are great.

Unlike Baja fish tacos, which are deep-fried in batter, those made Maui-style are grilled. In all my travels, whenever I’m near the ocean—whether it’s in Hawaii, Mexico, Alaska, Thailand, or Australia—there has always been a small stand somewhere that serves the local catch in an affordable, portable (usually grilled) form. One of my funniest fish taco experiences occurred in a small town in Alaska where we had stopped for supplies during a sailing trip through Prince William Sound. There in front of us was an old school bus painted in bright, tropical colors now converted to a walk-up kitchen selling, of all things—Maui tacos! We were a long way from Hawaii, but the methods were the same—the local catch (salmon and crab, in this case), simply grilled and served with salsa on fresh tortillas. To reduce the heat of this dish, you can substitute Tabasco for the habanero hot sauce. If necessary, to prevent the pieces of snapper from falling through the grill grate into the fire, use a seafood grilling screen. The pineapple can be grilled ahead, if you prefer, and held at room temperature. Both the pineapple and snapper can also be grilled indoors on a nonstick ridged grill pan. For the pineapple use medium heat, 5 minutes per side; for the fish, very high heat, 3 to 4 minutes per side.

An achiote rub is the classic Yucatan way of marinating fish. I tasted this rub for the first time in Isla Mujeres in the early 1970s, when you could still live on the beach in a palapa and hammock, eat great seafood, and drink cold beers for a few dollars per day. The fishermen would rub fish with an achiote-citrus paste and grill them on the beach over fires made from coconut husks. When I worked at Chez Panisse in the late 1970s, I duplicated this rub from my taste memory for some of their famous garlic festivals. The light citrus flavors of the achiote paste are a beautiful contrast to the oily texture of the swordfish. If you don’t have swordfish, use another meaty ocean fish such as wahoo or mahi mahi.

This is a very basic and traditional ceviche from coastal Peru. There is an ongoing argument in South America about who first invented ceviche, with both the Peruvians and Ecuadorans vying for credit. The Pacific Ocean fisheries that run along the western coasts of these two countries are the most productive in the world. They are the meeting place of some of the greatest deep-sea currents that bring the Arctic waters, full of life, to the surface for feeding the large schools of migratory fish. This recipe is a great way to enjoy the bounty of the sea while still preserving the integrity of the flavors. Try serving these tacos in smaller crispy shells. Guacamole, avocado slices, or diced boiled potatoes are traditional garnishes used to subdue the spicy effect of the chiles.

The best, most interesting ceviches in the world come from Peru, specifically Lima. Peru is blessed with three completely different geographies—coastal, Amazonian, and highland, with a different ecosystem—and cuisine—for each. Peruvian chefs create ceviches using exotic fish from the coast, potatoes and corn from the highlands, and wonderful tropical flavors and ingredients like hearts of palm from the Amazon region. Typical of a ceviche, the snapper in this taco filling is cooked not with heat, but by chemical action of the acid in the citrus juices. True red snapper, one of the great fishes of the world, is very expensive and rare, distinguished by its large head and red flesh. Most fish that is sold as snapper is actually rock cod or some other rockfish and does not have the subtlety of the genuine article. If you can’t get true snapper (you can tell only by seeing the whole fish, with its bright red and pale yellow markings), striped sea bass or halibut will work well. Candied ginger makes a nice garnish.

One of the best lunches I’ve ever had was at the centuries-old Waterside Inn, a Michelin three-star restaurant situated on the banks of the River Thames in Bray, England, and owned by the renowned Roux brothers. Dressed in formal attire, as I was attending the Royal Ascot horse races nearby, I sat down to an unforgettable salad of briny Brittany lobster, rich avocado, tender mâche, sweet mango, and earthy fresh black truffles, all washed down with vintage Krug rosé champagne. I’ve recreated that memorable combination on many festive occasions and took it as inspiration for these most elegant tacos.

Mexico is blessed with one of the largest coastlines in the world, touching two oceans and two seas. Consequently, it has a very rich and diverse seafood culture. One of the centers for great seafood eating, including crab, is the Atlantic port Veracruz. Seafood vendors populate the market, their counters painted in the hottest tropical colors and the marinated catch of the day displayed in huge sundae glasses. Order mariscos of just one type or mix and match—the vendors compete with one another to make bigger cocktails in their own special way. When shopping for fennel, look for ones with tops intact; they add extra freshness to a recipe and a more complete fennel taste. If you cannot find fennel with tops, garnish with one teaspoon chopped fresh tarragon. For extra splash at a more formal party, slices of black truffles (if you want to splurge) or a few drops of truffle oil add elegance.

Along Mexico’s Pacific coast, calamari is commonly prepared in homes and restaurants. That area of Mexico was particularly influenced by the so-called Philippine trade routes, where the Spanish ships crossed the Pacific to Acapulco to trade the goods of Asia with the colony. The cuisine has a definite fusion edge—you’ll see Asian ingredients like ginger used there, as well as dishes with rice. This recipe comes from the Jalisco region in southern Mexico. It is simpler and more traditional than versions originating from other port cities like Veracruz, the original Spanish port and the area with the most exposure to Spanish influences, including cuisine. The mint is a refreshing and unusual complement to the robust flavor of the blackened tomatoes. The pairing of basil and mint is not traditional, but is one that I like as I think the two herbs work well together.

This combination of sweet shrimp and smoky chipotle has been the absolute favorite at Coyote Café for more than twenty years. The pairing of chipotle and seafood is common throughout Mexico. My most memorable (and outrageous) version was at a party thrown by Patricia Quintana, the famous Mexican chef and writer, for her birthday in her home state of Veracruz. She invited fifty chefs, food writers, restaurant owners, and winemakers to a feast spread out on a river bank where huge pots filled with enormous amounts of crayfish cooked over open wood fires. I must have eaten 200 crayfish, which were cooked with chipotles, roasted garlic, grilled tomatoes, and served with warm tortillas on wood tables and beer trays—and almost disappeared behind a mountain of shells. The shrimp are best when marinated for 1 to 2 hours—any longer is not necessary. For a deliciously smoky flavor, grill the shrimp rather than sautéing them on the stove.

After Mexican cuisine, Thai is the one that I consider the most expressive. I find its freshness, sharp chile accents, and cool citrus flavors habit-forming, so much so that I travel to Thailand at least four times a year. One of the most distinctive of Thai flavors is that of kaffir lime. It resembles a large key lime with deep green, warty skin and leaves that have a marvelous, haunting perfume unmatched by those of any other lime or lemon. In this filling, I use the leaf to perfume the coconut sauce that cooks the shrimp. The fruit only grows in tropical climates and the lime itself is very hard to find here, but its fresh or frozen leaves are sold at all Asian markets that stock a lot of Thai ingredients. For this filling, the leaves should be minced very finely (remove the rib) or, preferably, ground to a fine powder in a spice mill, as its flavor is so strong that any large bits of leaf will dominate every mouthful.

Achiote paste is a distinctive staple marinade of the Yucatán peninsula that infuses food with a brick-red hue, a part bitter–part acidic flavor, and an earthy intensity that lingers on the palate. It’s usually combined with the bitter orange of the Yucatán and the fierce, tropical habanero chile. This recipe has a distinctly Caribbean flair, evoking personal memories of the early market in Merida, capital of the Yucatan and famous for its beaches. There, you’ll find wonderful whole fish marinated in achiote paste and cooked on fires on the beach over coconut husks. Or chicken tamales with achiote paste wrapped in banana leaves steamed, then finished over an open fire. These tacos are traditionally served with black beans, rice, and a heaping side of fried plantains (see page 140). You can make your own pickled onions for the garnish: Slice red onions into thin half-moons, sprinkle with oregano, and marinate in the juice from a jar of pickled jalapeños for about 20 minutes.