Let’s Talk About Birria Tacos (and Why My Kitchen Smells Amazing)

I still remember the first time I made Birria tacos at home—my neighbor poked her head in the door asking what on earth I was cooking because, honest to goodness, my whole hallway smelled like a fiesta. It was raining buckets that day, I had salsa stains up to my elbows, and frankly, my first attempt was a bit of a mess. Still tasted fantastic though (isn’t it funny how that happens?). Whenever I make these, I can’t help but grin thinking about that stormy afternoon and the absolute chaos in my tiny kitchen. Anyway, you’re in for a treat!

So, Why Do I Make These Birria Tacos?

I make Birria tacos when I want to impress, or when my family looks at me with those big "what’s for dinner?!" eyes. My friends always say they’d eat these cold if they had to, which is a compliment...sort of? It’s the kind of dish people hover for seconds—even my teen who claims to like nothing. (But honestly, it took me a couple tries to get the dipping consomé just right, so don’t stress if yours looks funny at first. Mine did too. And let’s not talk about that time I used the wrong chiles and the tacos turned day-glow red. Oops.)

What’s Actually In These Tacos?

2.5 lbs beef chuck roast. (Or honestly, I’ve done half beef half goat. The flavor is unreal, but seriously, use whatever you can grab. My friend made it with short ribs once—ridiculously rich but amazing.)
4 dried guajillo chiles (I sometimes mix in ancho if I’m short)
2 dried pasilla chiles
1 white onion, quartered (Red onion works too, though grandma says it’s not "proper")
5 garlic cloves. I do more sometimes, who’s counting?
2 tomatoes. Fresh is best, but canned is a lifesaver.
2 bay leaves
1 stick cinnamon. Don’t skip it unless you have to—it’s a game changer.
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
About 1 tablespoon cumin (Sometimes I wing it and it’s more like ‘a generous pinch’)
1 teaspoon dried oregano (Mexican, ideally—but who am I to judge?)
2-3 cups beef stock (I’ve used chicken broth in a pinch, totally fine)
Salt to taste
Corn tortillas (Flour works if you must, but come on... try corn first!)
Shredded Oaxaca or mozzarella cheese (Half the time I just grab whatever’s in the fridge—it’s all melty)
Chopped cilantro, onions, and lime wedges for serving

How I Actually Make Birria Tacos (Plus a Few Mishaps)

Prep those chiles. Snip off the stems, shake out the seeds, and toast them briefly in a dry pan. Don’t distract yourself here or they’ll burn faster than you can say "uh oh."
Soak the chiles. Toss the toasted chiles in hot water, let them soak about 20 mins. (Confession: sometimes I forget and it’s closer to 40—no biggie.)
Make your sauce base. Blend soaked chiles with tomatoes, onion, and garlic until you get a weird-looking, thick paste (this is where things start smelling amazing).
Sear the meat. Get it browned in a big pot or Dutch oven with a splash of oil, salt and pepper. Don’t worry if you get a little char—just more flavor.
Add the sauce, spices, and stock. Dump the paste over the meat, throw in the bay leaves, cinnamon, peppercorns, cumin, and oregano. Pour in enough stock so it’s mostly covered. Give it a stir, bring to a simmer.
Slow cook. Lid on, low and slow—like, 2.5 to 3 hours. I check halfway and scoop off any yucky foam. (And yes, this is when I sneak a taste. Who wouldn’t?)
Shred the meat. When it’s all fall-apart-tender, fish it out, shred it up (try not to eat half at this point), then dunk it back in the brothy goodness.
Make your consomé for dipping. Just strain off some of the broth—you want it deep and red. Splash of lime makes it pop, actually.
Assemble the tacos! Heat up a skillet, dip tortillas quickly in that oily top-layer of broth, fry them a couple seconds, pile on the meat, a bit of cheese, fold them in half … and crisp both sides. (First couple will be messy. Embrace it.)
Serve with that consomé for dunking. Sprinkle with cilantro, onion, squeeze of lime. Bask in the praise.

A Few Notes From Someone Who’s Ruined Dinner

If your consomé tastes flat, a splash of vinegar can save it. I learned that the hard way after too little acid.
The cheese should melt but not ooze out in a puddle—if it does, it just means you get more crispy cheese bits (not really a problem?).
I’ve never measured the spices exactly... maybe you shouldn’t either.

How I’ve Tweaked Birria Tacos (And the One Version That Flopped)

I tried chicken once instead of beef; good but not the same thing. Just being honest.
Adding chipotle gives a smoky kick. Worth a shot if you like heat.
I even tossed in beer to the broth one time—couldn’t really taste it, but it sounded like a good idea.

What If I Don’t Have a Dutch Oven?

Honestly, I use my big soup pot most times. No Dutch oven? Use a slow cooker (though the sauce thickens less) or even a heavy roasting pan covered with foil. Improvise! That’s half the fun anyway.

Keeping Leftovers (If You Even Have Any)

Just pop everything in an airtight container. It’ll keep for two or three days in the fridge, probably longer, but honestly—these never make it past lunch the next day in my house. If you want to freeze, the meat’s fine for a couple months. Tortillas? Just toast them fresh again for round two (or three).

This Is How We Serve Birria Tacos

I love to set up a taco bar with all the toppings, so people can doctor their own however they want. Someone always piles on way too much lime and then wonders why it’s so tart (lookin’ at you, Aunt Rita). A cold cerveza always finds its way on the table—if you need suggestions, Serious Eats has good beer picks for tacos.

What I’d Tell My Past Self (Pro Tips I’ve Learned the Hard Way)

Don’t rush the slow-cook step. I know, I know, it smells so good. But if you pull the meat out early, it’ll be stringy, not shreddy. Learned that the hard way… twice.
Too much cheese and your tacos fall apart on the skillet. Found that out after my dog made off with half a batch off the floor.
Always taste your broth before adding salt. Some stocks are saltier than others—don’t ask how I know.

Some Questions People Actually Ask Me (And My Scatterbrain Answers)

What’s the difference between Birria and other shredded beef tacos?: Honestly, it’s the consomé! And those spices. Birria just has this slow-cooked depth—I guess regular tacos taste flat now, sorry.
Can I make Birria tacos in advance?: Yup, actually I think they’re better the next day. The flavors just get a little more, I dunno, snuggly together? Warm them up in a pan so you get that crunch back.
Where do you get the right chiles?: I grab mine from the local Latino market, but MexGrocer ships in the US and has a great selection. In a pinch, some grocery stores stock dried chiles down the ethnic foods aisle—sometimes you gotta dig.
I’m not into super spicy—will these knock my socks off?: Nope, unless you add extra heat. Guajillo and pasilla are pretty mild. Add chipotle or árbol if you want to kick it up. Or don’t.
Can I skip the cheese?: Totally your call, but melty cheese is half the show for me. But yeah, they’re still killer without it.

And speaking of cheese, random aside—why does grating the silly block take forever? Yet pre-shredded always tastes a little disappointing. There’s probably a deep cosmic lesson there, but we’ll just leave it at that for today.

If you want to geek out on broth techniques, Serious Eats has a bonkers-good Birria deep dive that I wish I’d read before my first attempt.

Birria Tacos