There’s a tendency in cooking to over-explain where things belong. This ingredient belongs here. That technique belongs there. As if cuisine has ever respected borders.
Suadero is from Central Mexico. Mexico City, specifically. Traditionally made with a cut tucked somewhere deep inside the brisket, a cut most people here never really see. So instead, I started with Central Oregon short rib. Same philosophy. Braised slowly in adobo and tallow until it reaches that point where the edges begin to caramelize and the meat almost folds into itself.
But the rest of the plate drifts.
It’s sweet corn season, so naturally that found its way in. Roasted and folded into something closer to tarator than salsa. Dry spices. Chiles. Aromatics. A little pull from the Middle East. Jimmy Nardellos are peaking right now too, and Sungold Farms grows some of the best I’ve worked with, so they get blistered hard over flame until they almost collapse.
Then there’s the tortilla.
Cooked first. Air-dried after. Grilled again over open fire. Almost like a reverse tlacoyo or tostada. Something you break apart with your hands instead of cutting cleanly with a knife and fork.
That part matters to me.
Maybe it comes from growing up between places. Born in Sinaloa. Raised in Los Angeles. Cooking professionally for most of my life somewhere between fine dining precision and the food I actually crave eating.
I think more and more, I’m interested in dishes that feel lived in.
Not pristine.
Not overly composed.
Just honest enough to remind you that food is supposed to be touched.
-JG
