San Luis Obispo County is a rich agricultural region. We’re friends with farmers and ranchers. Our Morro Bay fishmonger announces weekly in an email blast which boat and which captain, exactly, offered up this week’s Sea Bass. The wine we drink is made by friends and neighbors. FFA is big here so someone’s kid is always raising a hog or sheep for the Mid State Fair, then desperately seeking a buyer for the fair’s last day auction. My pantry holds locally made honey, olive oil, chipotles and wheat bread. It’s easy to live within our culinary means here.
But I did perhaps take the locavore concept a bit too far last spring when I bought a baby goat.
During one of my weekly Saturday morning chats with the artisan cheese-and-pasture chicken guy at Farmers Market he revealed that he also sold Spring lambs and goats to a lucky few each year. I immediately reserved a goat, thinking I’d convince a few fellow carnivores to try goat tacos during the summer.
I never actually met the goat but I felt like I got to know him. Each week I asked Mr. Cheese and Chicken Guy if my goat was ready. “No, he’s not ready yet,” he’d reply. And then he’d add a just enough of a reason that I began to wonder if this was such a great idea. “He’s only about this big,” he’d say while holding his hands apart by about the length of a Yorkshire Terrier. “He’s still sleeping in a big ole pile with his brothers and sisters.”
Finally one Saturday in September, Mr. Cheese and Chicken Guy flagged me down at Farmers Market and said my baby goat had an impending date with the butcher. I made arrangements to pick him up ---frozen and in a box-- a few weeks later at the man’s Santa Margarita ranch and started researching recipes for Mexican Birria.
On the big day, Kathy and I drove out to the ranch. Beautiful, billowy thunderheads gathered over the oak studded hills, the windy, narrow road twisting through golden pastures. We were met at the door by the rancher’s wife, the cheesemaker herself, who immediately offered to give us a tour so we could see where my goat came from.
We saw the sheep she sheared for wool, the milk goats and the heirloom pig that would soon fill her own freezer. Then we entered a large fenced pasture where a dozen young goats scampered around. One goat, larger than the rest, took a quick interest in Kathy and me, nibbling at our jackets, butting our thighs, rearing up on us and generally becoming a goaty nuisance. I said, “He’s the one that should have gone to the butcher!” and was told that he was my goats brother. Suddenly I didn’t feel so much like the grim reaper.
In the middle of the grassy pasture we were standing in was a small portable corral, about 15’ by 15’ and fenced with wire meshing about 3 feet tall. Inside the corral were 30 white chickens who cackled and pecked and fluttered about. These were the lovely chickens I’d been buying at farmers market for the last year that actually tasted like chicken. They had firm flavorful meat in stark contrast to a colorless and mushy grocery store bird.
One had escaped the pen and was running clockwise around the outside, squawking in panic and missing his friends. The rancher’s wife started to run after him to no avail. She pointed at Kathy and ordered her to start walking counterclockwise around the pen so the chicken could be caught between them.
As they closed in on the escapee, it dashed straight toward Kathy. “Catch it!” the rancher’s wife shrieked. Kathy, ever the good sport, lurched forward, reached out with two hands and grabbed the bird just as it threw itself into the wire fencing. A second loud shriek, this time from Kathy, pierced the country air and she threw up her hands and leaped back. The fence, it turned out, was electrified. Kathy looked at me, her eyes wide, and gasped. The charge had gone straight through the chicken and bolted her right out of her bucolic reverie.
While I’d like to be able to say that I, ever the empathetic friend, tended to her obvious distress I cannot. Instead I must admit I was convulsed with laughter to the point I can’t even remember driving home. It’s still a bit of a sore subject.
This recipe for Goat Birria adapted from one by Rick Bayless is pretty authentic according to my research. The chile sauce is time consuming but worth it. It’s a brilliant, rich red and tastes of pure chile. It would be great on lamb or pork if you don’t find yourself with a freezer full of young goat like I did. Even if you don’t try this recipe, commit the technique for the garlic to memory as the cloves roasted in this manner would improve many recipes calling for garlic.
As is our habit we forgot to take a photo of the finished dish. I blame the wine.
Birria de Chivo o de Carnero
Slow steamed Goat or Lamb with mild chile seasoning.
We served this meat up taco style in warmed corn tortillas with sliced radish, lettuce and crumbled cotija cheese.
Ingredients
o 1 (5 lb) pieces young goat meat, perferably a hind quarter or one 3 pound
bone in lamb roast from the shoulder or butt-end of the leg
o 12 large chiles guajillos, stemmed,seeded and deveined
o 6 cloves garlic
o 3 teaspoons cider vinegar
o 1/4 tablespoon ground cumin
o 3/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
o 1 teaspoon salt
o 2 teaspoons sugar
o 1 large ripe tomatoes, roasted,peeled and cored or a 15 oz can of tomatoes,
drained
o 1 teaspoon oregano ( mexican if you can find it)
o 1/2 teaspoon salt
o 1 small onions
o 3 teaspoons fresh coriander
o 2 small limes
Directions
1. The Meat: Trim most of the fat from the meat.
2. If it is a goat hindquarter cut into 2 pieces, severing it through the joint
at the top of the leg.
3. Place in a large, noncorrosive dish.
4. The Chile Marinade: Heat a griddle or heavy skillet over medium heat.
5. Tear the chiles into flat pieces and toast them a few at a time, pressing
them against the hot surface until they crackle and blister, then flip them
over and repeat. Be careful not to burn or they will turn bitter.
6. Cover with boiling water, weight with a plate to keep them submerged and
soak 30 minutes.
7. Roast the garlic on the hot griddle until black on the outside, soft in
middle.
8. Cool and peel.
9. Drain the chiles and place in a blender jar with the garlic and vinegar.
10. Add the cumin, pepper and salt and 3/4 cup water.
11. Blend until smooth-then strain.
12. Remove 1/2 cup, stir in the sugar, cover and set aside for the final glazing.
13. spread the rest of the chile paste over the meat, cover and refrigerate for
at least 4 hours or, preferably, overnight.
14. Slow steaming: Preheat the oven to 325.
15. Ser a roasting rack into a deep, wide stockpot with a tight fitting lid.
16. Make sure the rack is 1 inch off the bottom. If it isn’t rest the rack on
custard cups.
17. Measure in 3 cups of water then lay the marinated meat on the rack and
spread any remaining marinade over it.
18. Bake for 3 hours.
19. Finishing the broth: take off the lid; then carefully remove the tender meat.
20. Take out the rack, spoon the fat off the broth and then measure it.
21. You need at least 1 quart-if necessary, add water to bring it to that level.
22. Pour the broth into a small saucepan.
23. Puree the tomato in a blender or food processor, add it to the broth along
with the oregano, cover and simmer over medium low heat for 20 minutes.
24. Season with salt.
25. Glazing and serving the birria: Shortly before serving, remove the bones,
large pieces of gristle and excess fat from the meat, keeping the pieces of
meat as large as possible.
26. Set the meat on a baking sheet, brush lightly withthe reserved chile paste
glaze, then bake for 10 minutes to set the glaze.
27. Either present the meat on a large platter and pass the warm broth
separately, or slice the meat across the grain and serve it in deep
plates, awash in the broth.
28. Mix the onion and cilantro, and pass the lime at the table.
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