After hours of slow roasting over hot coals in an underground pit, the meat is pulled from the ground like a buried treasure. Its swaddling of maguey leaves, softened from hours of moist heat, is opened to reveal the feast inside: a whole animal basted in its own juices and infused with the leaves’ earthy minerality, rendered meltingly soft and shreddable.
This is the magic of barbacoa, Mexico’s centuries-old method of slow-cooking meat. The dish is a long-standing staple of Sunday afternoon special occasions—birthdays, religious celebrations, or any other large gathering that demands a full-on feast. The tender shreds of meat are served with warm tortillas and a rainbow of garnishes such as salsas, chopped onion, radish, and cilantro. Rice and beans, corn, rajas, or other traditional side dishes made with the animal’s organs might round out the buffet. And for sipping, there’s a pot of pungent, piping hot consomé de barbacoa, a savory broth studded with garbanzo beans, rice, potatoes, and/or green beans that is flavored with the drippings of the roasted meat. “It’s a full meal that has a lot of tradition surrounding it in Mexico,” Iliana de la Vega, chef of Austin’s El Naranjo and the culinary expert behind the food tour company Mexican Culinary Traditions, explained. “It’s a party dish.”
Traditionally, barbacoa is roasted over a low fire in a pib
