Huaraches – Masa Ovals Topped With Beans, Meat, And Salsa.
The grease stain on the ceiling? That’s a whole different story involving Abuela, a rogue chorizo, and a very unfortunate chandelier. Believe me.
This whole huaraches thing...it’s serious business in my family. Not like, life or death serious—unless Tía Mildred is making them, ¡ay Dios mío! (but more on her later). Huaraches, you see, aren't just shoes. They’re food. Big, beautiful, masa masterpieces.
Originally, they were peasant food, right? Back in Mexico City, vendors would sell these long ovals of fried masa along the streets. Easy to carry, cheap to make, and filled with whatever was available – beans, cheese, maybe some leftover meat. Think of it as Mexican street food OG. Then, they spread. Michoacán adopted them. Puebla added their flair. Each region put their own little twist on it.
But my family? We perfected it. Okay, maybe "perfected" is strong. Let's say we made it…loud. And messy. And unforgettable. It all started with Abuelita’s masa. She could slap together dough blindfolded and it would come out perfect every time. That woman had magic hands, I swear. My cousins and I would sit around the kitchen, watching her work, trying to steal little bits of masa to eat raw (don’t tell her!). The smell alone makes me feel like a kid again.
See, everyone has a role when we make huaraches. Me? I'm the bean queen. I make the refried beans. It's not glamorous, but someone has to do it. My cousin Elena is in charge of the salsa roja—hers is fiercely hot; she’s competitive about that. And then there’s Tía Mildred. Oh, Tía Mildred. She thinks she’s a chef. She's…not.
The first time she tried to help, she decided to “elevate” the toppings. Elevated meant adding pineapple. Pineapple! On a huarache! Abuela almost fainted. There was yelling, there were tears, there was a lot of Spanish flying around. "¡Pineapple no va!" Abuela bellowed. "This is a huarache, not a tropical vacation!" Honestly, it was chaos. But funny chaos.
She learned. Eventually. Sort of. Now, her contribution is limited to grating the queso fresco. Which she does…enthusiastically. And leaves cheese dust everywhere. Everywhere! Carlos, my husband, tries to stay out of the kitchen when Tía Mildred is involved, you understand. Smart man.
Last year, we tried making them for Cinco de Mayo. A disaster. Not because of the food, but because my cousins started a dominoes tournament in the middle of everything. Plates were knocked over, salsa splattered on the curtains, and Abuelita nearly lost her dentures in a pile of masa. ¡Ay, qué desastre! But you know what? Everyone was laughing. That's what family is about, right? Messy, loud, and full of love.
Then there was the Great Huarache Challenge of '08. Cousin Mateo, who fancies himself a grill master, decided he could improve the steak topping by smoking it. He set off the smoke alarm three times. The entire neighborhood thought our house was on fire. Abuela just shook her head and said, "Hombres...always trying to complicate things."
And don’t even get me started on the time Tía Mildred tried to deep-fry the huaraches. Abuela threw a wooden spoon at her. It was legendary. I mean legendary.
Abuelita always said, “A good huarache needs soul.” And honestly? She was right. It's not just about the ingredients; it's about the people you make it with. It's about the stories, the laughter, the arguments, and the love that goes into every single bite.
We still make them every year for Abuelita’s birthday. It’s tradition. Tía Mildred still tries to sneak in some exotic fruit now and then, but we keep a close eye on her. You never know what she'll come up with next. It’s a guaranteed spectacle. A beautiful, delicious, chaotic spectacle.
Recipe
Ingredients 🌽🥘
- 2 cups masa harina (corn flour for making masa)
- 1 ½ cups warm water
- ½ tsp salt
- 2 tbsp lard or vegetable shortening (lard is traditional!)
- 1 tbsp vegetable oil
- 2 cans (15 oz each) pinto beans, drained and rinsed
- ¼ cup onion, chopped
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tsp cumin
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 1 lb skirt steak, marinated (see notes)
- 1 large white onion, thinly sliced
- 2 Roma tomatoes, diced
- 1 serrano pepper, finely minced (remove seeds for less heat)
- 1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
- Queso fresco, crumbled (a generous amount!)
- Radishes, thinly sliced (for garnish)
- Hot sauce of your choice (Elena’s salsa roja is optional...and dangerous)
Tools 🔪🥄
- Large mixing bowl
- Potato masher
- Large skillet
- Griddle or large frying pan
- Spatula
- Cutting board
- Knife
Steps
- In a large bowl, combine the masa harina, warm water, and salt. Mix well until a dough forms. Add the lard or shortening and knead for about 5-7 minutes until smooth and pliable. Let rest for 20 minutes. It needs to be like playdough, mija.
- While the masa rests, prepare the refried beans. Heat the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Sauté the chopped onion and garlic until softened. Add the pinto beans, cumin, salt, and pepper. Mash with a potato masher until smooth and creamy. Set aside.
- Marinate the skirt steak in your favorite marinade for at least 30 minutes. Then grill or pan-fry until cooked to your desired doneness. Slice thinly against the grain. (Carlos usually handles this part—he likes his gadgets.)
- Prepare the salsa. In a bowl, combine the diced tomatoes, sliced onion, serrano pepper, and cilantro. Season with salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed. Be careful with that serrano!
- Divide the masa into 6 equal portions. Roll each portion into an oval shape, about ½ inch thick. (Abuela makes them bigger, but we're trying to be reasonable.)
- Heat a griddle or large frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook the huaraches for about 5-7 minutes per side, until golden brown and slightly crispy. They should puff up a little.
- Spread a generous layer of refried beans over each huarache. Top with the sliced steak, salsa, crumbled queso fresco, and sliced radishes.
- Serve immediately with your favorite hot sauce. And prepare for a fiesta!
Make-Ahead / Storage
- The masa can be made ahead of time and stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days. Wrap tightly in plastic wrap.
- Refried beans can also be made ahead and refrigerated for up to 3 days.
- Leftover huaraches can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days. Reheat in a skillet or oven. (They’re best fresh, though!)
Side Dish Pairing
- Escabeche de Cebolla (pickled onions) – the acidity cuts through the richness beautifully.
- Agua de Jamaica (hibiscus tea) – a refreshing counterpoint to the savory flavors.
Tía Mildred siempre decía, “A little pineapple never hurt anybody!”
