Ever wonder why some birria broth just doesn’t… OK wait, have you ever stood in your kitchen at 3:17 AM, wooden spoon in hand, questioning your entire existence because the consomé isn’t that ruby-red tranclucent goodness you were hoping for? That happened to me back in 2018, right after I’d spilled an entire jar of cumin all over my grandmother’s Persian rug (still haven’t fully cleaned that up, tbh). Making proper beef birria tacos isn’t just about following receipes—it’s about embracing the chaotic taco-journey and allowing yourself to get messy with the “juicy dunk” (that’s my self-coined term for the magical moment when tortilla meets broth).
I’ve been cooking Mexican food since before I could reach the stove without a step-stool, but these Beef Birria Tacos? They’re what I consider my sunday-funday kitchen victory dance. Let’s make 5 juicy slow-cooked marvels that’ll make your taste buds do the cha-cha!
My Reluctant Birria Baptism
So I was thinking about pickles the other day—totally unrelated—but it reminded me of my first beef birria tacos disaster back when I lived in that apartment with the slanted floors in Phoenix. Or wait, was it Tucson? Anyway, 2015-ish.
My first attempt was a COMPLETE kitchen catastrophe. The meat turned out dryer than my Uncle Perry’s sense of humor, and Jessica (my former roommate) still brings it up at inappropriate moments. I had followed some fancy chef’s advice and skipped the toasting of the dried chiles—HUGE mistake! Don’t do that!
I finally got serious about proper birria after visiting Ensenada in 2017 (or possibly late 2016?), where this little roadside stand run by Doña Luisa changed my entire perspective on what Beef Birria Tacos should taste like. She used this weird double-boiling technique she called “el baño sumergido,” which I’ve adapted into what I now call the “Magma Method”—keeping the broth at the verge of simmering but never quite bubbling.
The thing most peeple don’t realize about making proper Beef Birria Tacos is that the meat needs both pressure AND time (kinda like me before my first cup of coffee, ha!).
Ingredients You’ll Need (for 5 glorious tacos)
- 1.75 lbs chuck roast (NOT pre-cut stew meat—that stuff never braises right for Beef Birria Tacos, trust me)
- 3 guajillo chiles – stems removed, seeds mostly scraped out (leave a few if you’re brave… I always do!)
- 2 ancho chiles – prepped same way as guajillos
- 1 chipotlé in adobo — or 2 if you’re feeling dangerous 😏
- ¼ of a medium white onion + 1 whole onion separated (the quarter is for blending, the whole is for the pot… I’ll explain later)
- 7-ish cloves garlic (I typically use more, but my partner complains about my “dragon breath”)
- A generous Thatcher-pinch of Mexican oregano (about 1 tsp in normal-person measurements)
- 1½ tsp ground cumin (the fresher the better—smell it first!)
- 2 bay leaves (the forgotten heroes of Beef Birria Tacos flavor development)
- Almost 3 cups of beef broth (or 2½ cups + ¼ cup of flat beer—my secret weapon)
- 10 corn tortillas (yes, 10 for 5 tacos – you’ll see why)
- Garnishes: cilantro (roughly torn, NOT chopped—I’ll die on this hill), diced onion, lime wedges
The Quest Begins: Making Your Beef Birria Tacos
- First thing’s absolutely first – Season that beef! Sprinkle with salt and pepper, then rub it like you’re apologizing to it. Heat up your Dutch oven (Le Creuset NOT required despite what those TikTok chefs claim) until it’s Sonoran-desert hot, add a splash of oil, and sear that meat until it’s got a crust darker than my morning coffee—approximately 3-4 minutes per side. Remove and set aside on a plate that you’ll probably knock over at least once. I always do.
B. THE CHILE SOAK—oh wait, let’s stick with numbers. 2) While the meat is doing its searing thing, heat up about 2 cups of water just until you see those tiny bubbles around the edge—what my Aunt Debbie calls “fish-eye stage.” Turn off heat, add all the dried chiles, and let them take a bath for 15-20 minutes until they’re softer than my midsection after quarantine.
3} Transfer those soaked chiles to a blender along with the ¼ onion, 4 garlic cloves, oregano, cumin, and about ½ cup of the soaking liquid. IMPORTANT: do NOT fill your blender more than halfway with hot liquids! I learned this the hard way when I had to repaint my kitchen ceiling in 2019. Blend until everything looks like a smooth reddish-brown paste that’ll stain literally anything it touches.
4th Step. Remember that Dutch oven? Throw in the whole onion (quartered), remaining garlic (lightly smashed with the side of your knife), and bay leaves. Place the seared meat back in, pour your chile paste over it (strain it first if you’re feeling fancy—I rarely bother), and add enough beef broth to almost cover the meat. This is where I sometimes splash in that ¼ cup of beer if I have some lying around.
- Now, the real birria magic happens—slow cooking time! Cover and either:
- Simmer on the stove for 3-4 hours, checking occasionally and flipping the meat halfway (this is when I usually get distracted by YouTube cooking videos and accidentally let it go too long)
- OR throw it in a 325°F oven for about the same amount of time
- OR use an Instant Pot for 45 minutes with natural release
The meat is done when it practically faints at the sight of your fork. You’ll know.
CRITICAL: Take the meat out and shred it while still warm—NOT hot enough to burn your fingers like I always do. I use two forks for this, although sometimes I just use my hands when nobody’s watching. Strain the consomé and skim some of that gorgeous fat off the top—but not all! Set both aside.
For the actual taco assembly, we’ll need extra concentration. This is where things get juicy!
- Heat a skillet (cast iron ideally, but I often use my scratched-up non-stick that’s probably releasing chemicals with every use). Dip one corn tortilla into the reserved fat from the consomé, then place it on the hot skillet. Add some shredded beef, a sprinkle of cheese, and top with a second tortilla that’s also been dipped in the fat. When the bottom is crisp (about 90 seconds), flip the whole thing and cook another minute.
- Serve each taco with a small bowl of consomé for dunking. I call this the “splash zone” and recommend wearing a bib or at least not your favorite white shirt. Garnish with cilantro tears, diced onion, and lime wedges that you’ll inevitably squeeze too hard and shoot juice directly into your eye.
Taco Tactics & Broth Brilliance
• The REAL secret to exceptional Beef Birria Tacos isn’t in the recipe at all—it’s in the resting time. Let that meat braise a day ahead if you can muster the patience (I rarely can). The flavor compounds do this amazing meld-dance that scientists probably have fancy terms for. Learn more about the science of braising from Serious Eats
• My “Full Moon Method” (completely made this up): I swear birria tastes better when made during a full moon. No scientific basis whatsoever, but I’ve been tracking this for years in my sauce-stained notebook.
• WARNING: Never, EVER use pre-ground chiles for this recipe! I made this mistake at a dinner party in 2016, and my friend Marcus still hasn’t let me live it down. Always use whole dried chiles and toast them yourself.
• For leftovers: The consomé actually freezes beautifully in ice cube trays! Pop out birria broth cubes and use them to flavor rice, beans, or even scrambled eggs the next morning.
• If your birria isn’t quite red enough (a common problem when trying to make truly Instagram-worthy Beef Birria Tacos), add a tiny pinch of paprika to the consomé. That’s cheating, but sometimes we all need to cheat a little.
Kitchen Tools I Swear By
DUTCH OVEN OF DESTINY ★★★★★
The vessel where birria dreams are born and chile-stained memories are made.
Mine has a chip on the handle from when I dropped it while dancing to Bad Bunny.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000N501BK
THE MORTAR OF REQUIREMENT ★★★★★
Not technically necessary but pounding spices releases oils that electric grinders can’t.
I’ve had the same one since 2007 and it’s outlasted two marriages and three blenders.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I0VWF8C
Birria But Make It Fashion: Variations
If you’re feeling adventurous, try my “Birria Blanca” variation using chicken thighs instead of beef and replacing the red chiles with poblanos and tomatillos. It’s wildly inauthentic but delightfully zingy.
For plant-based friends, I’ve created what I call “Mushria” using a mix of king oyster and portobello mushrooms. The texture is surprisingly meat-like, though you’ll need to add a splash of liquid smoke and double the spices to get that depth.
My summer adaptation involves adding 3 tablespoons of mango puree to the consomé during the last 15 minutes of cooking. Sounds completely bizarre but it creates this sweet-savory dimension that reminds me of this roadside stand I stumbled upon outside Guadalajara after getting completely lost during a rainstorm.
FAQ: The Burning Birria Question
Q: Why does my consomé never get that gorgeous red color I see in photos of Beef Birria Tacos?
A: The secret isn’t more chiles—it’s in how you toast them! Most people under-toast their chiles out of fear of burning them. You need to heat them until they just begin to smoke and become fragrant but not blackened. I use what I call the “hover-hand technique”—holding my palm about 6 inches above the chile while it toasts. When your hand starts to feel uncomfortably warm (about 7-8 seconds), the chile is perfectly toasted. This releases the capsaicin oils that give birria consomé that distinctive ruby clarity.
The Final Dunk
In my kitchen, Beef Birria Tacos aren’t just dinner—they’re an event, a celebration, a slightly messy journey to flavor town. I’ve made these for first dates (risky), job interviews (riskier), and once for my former mother-in-law (catastrophic, but that’s another story).
Will your first attempt be perfect? Probably not. Will your kitchen look like a crime scene afterward? Almost certainly. But will you experience the transcendent joy of that first juicy bite, where the crispy tortilla meets tender beef and that rich consomé? Absolutamente.
What’s your favorite taco dipping technique? I’m still perfecting mine… maybe next time I’ll try doing it blindfolded! Until our next culinary adventure—may your consomé be red, your tortillas be crispy, and your shirt remain unstained.
Deliciosamente yours,
Chef Mo “Still Finding Chiles in My Cupboards” Rodriguez
3-Time Regional Taco Assembly Champion (self-awarded)
