Beyond the Burrito

The Sonoran hot dog is a perfect example of what happens when Mexican food culture meets a neighbouring food tradition and produces something that is recognisably both and completely its own. Origin: Hermosillo, Sonora, where it developed in the 1980s. A bacon-wrapped hot dog in a bolillo-style roll, topped with pinto beans, tomatoes, onion, mayonnaise, mustard, and salsa. It is Mexican in flavour and DNA but the format is American. I make a version at home: good pork hot dog, thick-cut bacon wrapped tight, grilled until the bacon crisps. Bolillo roll, split and griddled. Warm whole pinto beans (with their broth), fresh tomato, white onion, a thin line of mayo, a thin line of yellow mustard, a drizzle of tomatillo salsa. It is extraordinary and worth knowing about.

A year ago I started cooking Mexican food seriously for the first time. Here is what changed most in my cooking: My palate for acid. I had been under-using lime in almost everything. Now I finish almost everything with acid and the difference is significant. My dried chile pantry. I went from zero to six essential chiles. The ability to build flavour from dried chiles is the foundational skill I was missing. My bean cooking. I had been using canned beans for convenience. Beans from dried, cooked with aromatics and good stock, are a completely different ingredient. My tortilla skill. Making tortillas from scratch weekly has given me a hand sense for masa that cannot be taught from a recipe. If I were starting over, I would start with beans, then tortillas, then dried chiles. In that order. Everything else is combinations of those three.

I made this mistake for years: I used Mediterranean oregano (the kind in a jar at the supermarket) in Mexican recipes that called for oregano, and the flavour was always slightly off — more robust and herbal than it should have been. Mexican oregano (Lippia graveolens) is related to lemon verbena, not to Mediterranean oregano (Origanum vulgare). It has a different flavour profile: slightly citrusy, less intensely herbal, with a mild anise note. It is the correct oregano for Mexican bean dishes, chile sauces, and regional Mexican preparations. For anyone cooking Mexican food regularly: find a source for Mexican oregano and keep it separate from your Mediterranean oregano. They are different tools.

I had been making carnitas without sugar for years, following the traditional rendered-fat method. Then I read about adding a cone of piloncillo to the fat early in the cook and tried it. Piloncillo is unrefined Mexican brown sugar with notes of molasses and caramel. Added to the carnitas fat at the start, it caramelises slowly and coats the pork as it braises. The final product has a subtle, dark sweetness in the crust that is different from anything the fat alone produces. This is not a sweet carnitas — you would not identify it as sugar unless you were looking for it. It is a depth note, a caramelisation complexity in the exterior of the finished meat. I now consider it essential.

Ceviche is sometimes described as 'cooking' fish with acid rather than heat. The chemistry is accurate — the acid denatures the proteins in the fish and produces a change in texture and appearance similar to heat-cooking. But the food safety implications are different: acid curing does not kill pathogens the way heat does. For home ceviche: use the freshest fish available — sushi-grade if possible. The acid does what it does to texture and flavour but it is not a substitute for heat in terms of food safety. Short marinade time (10-15 minutes) for a ceviche that is still slightly tender in the centre; longer (45 minutes) for fully 'cooked' texture. The classic Mexican combination: white fish (sea bass, halibut), lime juice, white onion, serrano, cilantro, salt. Simple, direct, magnificent.

Barbacoa is traditionally beef cheek, tongue, or head meat cooked wrapped in maguey leaves in a pit for many hours. At home, the closest approach is a slow braise with a chile-tomato base in a tightly sealed vessel. The cut matters: beef cheek is the right choice for home cooking — it has enough connective tissue to become gelatinous and silky over a long braise. Brisket works as a substitute. Chuck roast is acceptable but less silky. The braise base: guajillo, ancho, chipotle, garlic, onion, cumin, oregano, apple cider vinegar. Blend to a paste, coat the meat, braise tightly covered at 300°F for 3.5-4 hours. The result should pull apart in long fibres with almost no resistance. The braise liquid reduces to a concentrated sauce that is the best thing to eat with the meat.

I live in northern Europe and for two years I worked with whatever the local supermarket called 'dried chiles' — usually some generic red thing, origin unknown. Then I found a reliable online source for Mexican-origin dried chiles and everything changed. What I now order: ancho, guajillo, arbol, pasilla, and mulato. These five cover most applications. I order in 250-500g quantities because dried chiles keep for a year in a sealed container away from light. The quality difference from the generic supermarket product is enormous. A good guajillo has flexibility — it should bend without cracking. A stale or poor-quality one is brittle and has almost no aroma. The aroma when you toast a fresh guajillo should be immediately obvious and complex. For Europeans looking for sources: many online Mexican grocery shops ship across the EU and UK. Worth finding one you trust.

Most people who discover Mexican cooking follow a northern path: burritos, carnitas, chiles, salsa. Yucatecan cooking is an entirely different tradition with different ingredients, different techniques, and different flavour profiles. Achiote is the central ingredient — earthy, slightly floral, with a distinctive red colour. Recados (spice pastes) are the technique: achiote with sour orange, garlic, and other spices form the base of most marinades. Cochinita pibil — pork marinated in achiote, wrapped in banana leaves, traditionally pit-roasted — is the dish that most introduces people to the style. The sour orange (naranja agria) is essential and not substitutable with regular orange. A mixture of orange juice and lime juice approximates it; sour orange concentrate imported from Mexico works well. This tradition is worth exploring after you have the basics of central and northern Mexican cooking.

Making corn tortillas looked simple in every video I watched. Here is what I got wrong in my first session and what I changed. Dough too dry: I used the ratio on the masa harina package exactly. The tortillas cracked on the press and cracked on the comal. Added water a tablespoon at a time until the dough felt like soft clay — which was about 3 tablespoons more than the package said. Pressing too thin: I aimed for very thin tortillas because restaurants have thin tortillas. Mine stuck to the plastic on the press. The right thickness for a home press is about 2mm — thin but not translucent. Comal too cold: I was too cautious with the heat. A corn tortilla needs a hot comal — it should leave after about 30 seconds on the first side with visible drying and slight browning. On too-cool a comal it steams rather than cooks.

Steamed tortillas and dry-toasted tortillas are not the same product and knowing when to use each changed my cooking. Dry comal: char, slight bitterness, some drying of the surface, robust flavour. Best for tacos where the char is part of the taste. Steamed: pliable, soft, neutral in flavour, slightly moist. Best for rolling — burritos, enchiladas, flautas — where the tortilla needs to fold rather than break. The steaming method: wrap a stack of corn tortillas in a clean kitchen towel, microwave for 60 seconds. The steam from the tortillas' own moisture is enough. Or use a proper tamale steamer basket for 2 minutes. When I am making enchiladas or rolled tacos I use steamed tortillas. When I am making open tacos or tostadas I use dry-comal tortillas.

The fat source in tamale masa affects the flavour, the texture, and the lightness of the final tamale. After testing all three options with identical everything else: Lard: the traditional choice. Produces the lightest, most airy masa. The subtle pork flavour disappears in the steam. The high melting point means the masa stays light even when hot. Vegetable shortening: produces a slightly denser but still acceptable tamale. Slightly waxy mouthfeel compared to lard. Good choice if lard is not an option. Butter: richest flavour by far. Denser result — the tamale is more solid and heavier. Works beautifully for sweet tamales. For savoury tamales, the butter flavour competes with the filling unless the filling is mild.

Fresh corn tortillas are best within an hour of coming off the comal. But making them to order every time is not practical. Here is the storage system that keeps them usable for three days. Let them cool completely before stacking — never stack hot tortillas, the steam between them makes them stick and go mushy. Once cool, stack with a small piece of parchment between each (or just slightly damp kitchen paper). Wrap the stack in foil and refrigerate. To use from the fridge: 30 seconds per side in a dry, medium-hot pan. They reheat remarkably well. The comal contact restores some of the char and brings them back to near-fresh quality. Do not microwave. Do not use a toaster. Pan-only.

Keeping a jar of masa harina on the counter rather than in a cupboard changed how often I used it. It is there. I see it. I reach for it. Masa harina is one of the most versatile ingredients in my kitchen: tortillas, tamale dough, thickening for sauces (a teaspoon in a braising liquid adds subtle corn flavour and body), a coating for pan-fried fish, mixing into cornbread. I used to treat it as a specialty item I took out for tortilla-making sessions. Now it is as accessible as flour. The result: I make fresh tortillas significantly more often. Not every time I cook, but often enough that my technique has improved from repetition rather than intention.

Tamale steaming at home is harder than it looks because most people do not have a dedicated tamale steamer. Here is the equipment and method that works without specialised gear. A large stockpot with a steaming rack or a colander that fits inside it. Put about 3cm of water in the bottom — enough to produce steam for 90 minutes without running dry, not enough to touch the tamales. Stand the tamales open-end up, packed tightly against each other so they do not fall over. Lid on tight. High heat until steam, then medium. Check the water level at 45 minutes — add more boiling water if needed, not cold. Done test: the masa should pull cleanly from the husk. If it sticks, they need more time. 75-90 minutes is typical for a standard tamale; larger ones may need 2 hours.

I used a tortilla press for two years before I understood when a rolling pin is actually better. The press makes a perfectly round, even tortilla of consistent thickness — which is correct for corn tortillas where even thickness is essential for even cooking on the comal. But for flour tortillas: a rolling pin gives you slightly thinner edges and a fractionally thicker centre, which produces a tortilla that rolls and folds better because the edge is more pliable. The press makes flour tortillas slightly stiffer because the pressure is entirely even. Conclusion: corn tortilla — use the press every time. Flour tortilla — rolling pin if you are making them for burritos where pliability matters; press is fine if you are making them for quesadillas where even thickness is better.

I spent two months testing masa made with cold water, room temperature water, and warm water. The differences are real. Cold water: the starch hydrates slowly, the fat stays solid, the resulting masa is uneven — some areas hydrated, some still dry-textured. Takes much longer to reach a workable texture. Room temperature: better but still slow. The fat incorporates unevenly. Warm water (about 110-120°F): the starch hydrates quickly and evenly. The lard or shortening incorporates smoothly because the warm temperature keeps it in a soft state. The masa comes together in about half the time of cold water and the texture is more uniform. This applies to masa harina specifically. Fresh nixtamal masa is already hydrated and warm water matters less.

I have been making tortillas from masa harina for three years. Four months ago I nixtamalised for the first time — cooking dried corn in a solution of water and calcium hydroxide (cal), soaking overnight, then rinsing and grinding to fresh masa. The difference from masa harina tortillas is not marginal. The flavour is richer. The smell is different — more fully corn, more complex. The texture of the fresh masa has a pliability that dried and reconstituted masa cannot replicate. You can feel the difference in your hands. The process itself is not difficult. It is slow. The overnight soak is the main time commitment. If you make tortillas regularly, nixtamalising once a week produces enough masa for several days and is not significantly more work than working from masa harina.

Every year there are more tortillas made with vegetable shortening or oil, and every year they are a little less good than the lard versions. I am making the case for lard one more time. Lard produces a tortilla with a flakiness that shortening cannot replicate. The fat structure in lard is different from vegetable fat — the lard crystals create small layers in the dough that separate during cooking. The flavour is mild but distinct — slightly porky, slightly nutty, and it interacts with the wheat in a way neutral oils do not. The health argument against lard is also weaker than assumed: lard has a similar fat profile to olive oil, with a relatively high proportion of monounsaturated fat. If you have not made a lard tortilla, make one. Then decide.

Enchiladas use the same components as a burrito — corn tortilla, filling, sauce, cheese — and yet they are harder to get right. The reasons: The tortilla must be dipped in warm oil first to prevent it from cracking when rolled. Most home cooks skip this and then wonder why their enchiladas crack in the dish. The sauce must be applied before baking, not after. The tortilla should be partially saturated with the sauce before the oven, which means the sauce needs to be thinner than a serving sauce. The filling should be minimal — 2-3 tablespoons maximum per tortilla. Overfilled enchiladas do not roll tightly and the filling falls out in the dish. Once you know these three things, enchiladas are straightforward. Until then, they are frustrating.

Birria has become a trend and I was sceptical because trends usually disappoint. I made proper birria for the first time three months ago — goat or beef short rib braised for hours in a chile-tomato consommé — and I now understand why everyone is talking about it. The technique that makes it: dip the corn tortilla in the consommé before cooking it on the comal. The tortilla picks up fat from the consommé and crisps differently. The fat gets into the tortilla's structure rather than just sitting on the surface. Then the braised meat, onion, cilantro, and a separate cup of hot consommé for dipping. The consommé as a dipping liquid is not optional. It is what makes the whole experience. Drink it between bites.

At a good taqueria the toppings are: raw white onion finely diced, fresh cilantro, lime, and the salsa of your choice. That is the complete list for a street taco. The restraint is not minimalism for its own sake — it is because each of those components does something specific. Raw onion: crunch, sharpness, a slight bitterness that cuts the fat. Cilantro: volatile aromatic freshness. Lime: acid to finish. Salsa: heat and complexity. Everything else — sour cream, cheese, lettuce, tomato — is from a different taco tradition. Not wrong, but not street taco. Adding all of them to a street taco does not make it better; it makes it a different taco with too much happening.

A quesadilla from fresh masa and a quesadilla from a flour tortilla are genuinely different things and it took me years to stop thinking of one as the standard and the other as an alternative. Fresh masa quesadilla: formed by hand directly around the cheese, sealed, cooked directly on the comal. No separate tortilla. The masa and cheese become one structure. This is the traditional version in much of Mexico City street food. Flour quesadilla: the version most people outside Mexico know — cheese between two flour tortillas or folded in one, cooked in a pan. Crispy, layered, easy to make at scale. Both are valid. Both are different. The fresh masa version requires skill (the dough needs the right hydration, the fold needs to be quick) but the result is something the flour version cannot approximate.

I had a comal for two years before I understood it. I was using it like a flat pan — for cooking things on. Then I spent a week in Mexico watching how it was actually used and came back with a completely different understanding. A comal is a heat surface, not a cooking vessel. Its job is to transfer heat evenly across a flat surface. Tortillas go on it briefly to char and warm. Fresh chiles are charred directly on it for salsas. Tomatillos blister on it. Garlic chars in their skins on it. Dried chiles are toasted briefly on it before soaking. The comal is not where the cooking happens — it is where everything picks up heat and char. The actual cooking happens before and after. Once I understood this, everything I made with a comal improved.

I have this conversation constantly so I am writing it down once clearly: a corn tortilla and a flour tortilla are not two versions of the same thing. They are different foods that happen to be round and flat. Corn tortilla: earthy, slightly toasted flavour from the nixtamal, less pliable, holds up to direct char, pairs with specific fillings where the corn flavour is complementary. Flour tortilla: more neutral, more pliable, better for very wet or very large fills, holds up to rolling and pressing in a way corn does not. For tacos specifically: corn tortilla is the traditional and in my view the correct choice because the char interacts with the filling in a way flour cannot replicate. Flour tortilla for a taco is a different taco — not better or worse, just different.