Don't Cry Over Spilt Meat
What I learned from spilling ten pounds of birria on my foot
On my twenty-fourth birthday, I hauled a concoction of chuck roast, aromatics, and water from the oven. I peeled the aluminum cover and plopped a piece in my mouth to sample. My teeth couldn’t penetrate the meat and my tongue couldn’t taste it; so, I added a pinch of salt and added another hour to the kitchen timer. As I was returning the container to the oven, a steaming waterfall of collagen and Mexican spices poured onto my feet. The heat gnawed on my bones. Ultimately, I wasted ten pounds of beef, a few hours of labor, and a perfectly fine evening for a party.
As I stared at my onion-sized blister this week, I realized my mistake was rooted in my personal flaws. I’m not trying to psychoanalyze or get too preachy, but I have an obsession with more that keeps me constantly burning my foot—metaphorically. My incident could have been avoided if I had cut down my elaborate menu and really focused on a couple of things. I was squeezing lemons for the x-ni-pec, dry brining the brisket, infusing chiles for the salsa macha, and trying to braise the birria in a foil pan. These containers are flimsy and usually reserved for serving food. I could have made birria on the stove in an olla like everyone else, but my sleep-deprived brain refused the idea.
My to-do list has reached a length where it’s no longer functional. Half of my tasks are incomplete and the other half are rushed. What’s the point of dedicating time to the activities you love if you feel like you should be doing something else in that time instead? My time confined to my desk has encouraged me to start sharing the drafts I’ve hoarded on my computer, make recipes that are too ugly for Instagram, and post my videos—even if I hate my voice.
To everyone who reached out/showed up after my injury:
I like to cook but not enough to be obsessed with it to the extent I am. What I love is feeding people. That’s why I keep a stack of cookbooks and hone my skills daily. So, when my birthday meal didn’t pan out I did feel crushed. But, your kind words and quality time made the pain not so bad. I hope to repay you all with many great meals in our lifetime. See ya soon.