Cabrito

WEST AND SOUTH TEXAS (By Paula Disbrowe, NYTimes) June 17, 2007 — Five years ago, when my boyfriend and I traveled to South Texas to interview for a job to cook on a ranch, our prospective employers — the ranch owners — did a crafty thing. They took us to Nuevo Laredo, the Mexican town just across the Rio Grande from Laredo, to seduce us with some “this is why it’s fun to live in Texas” persuasion. First stop: margaritas at the Cadillac Bar (oh, how they flowed), and then we taxied to a restaurant famous for tender, smoky, spit-roasted goat. The next morning, I embraced two new truths: I had accepted a life-changing job in rural isolation and a favorite new meat to barbecue.

As I quickly learned, throughout much of South and West Texas, cabrito, or kid goat, is almost as common at ranch cookouts as rib-eye. When properly cooked, the flesh from a Boer (or meat) goat has a subtly sweet, earthy flavor redolent of dark turkey or less-gamy venison. At my local supermarket in Uvalde, hindquarters of cabrito nestle alongside poultry, pork, tripe and fresh masa. In the nearby town of Tarpley, I can order a cabrito burger at Mac & Ernie’s, a roadside diner. When we became engaged, our neighbor George said in congratulations, “When you set a date, we’ll cook you a goat.”

Goats fare exceptionally well in Texas because they can live in arid, rocky terrains where other animals can’t. (A cow would find no joy in scampering up craggy hills to nibble nothing more than an agarita bush.) This ability to survive in inhospitable areas has made goat the most widely consumed meat in the world (and relegated its status to peasant fare). Currently, most of the Boer goats raised in the United States are sold to a minority market Muslims and Hispanics are the biggest purchasers. But here’s a little-known fact: cabrito has the fastest growing sales of any meat in the country.

The most common South Texas preparation for cabrito draws its inspiration from Mexico (specifically Monterrey). The goat is typically marinated, cooked in an insulated oven and then finished over a low fire. Cabrito aficionados prize young goats (anywhere from 28 to 40 days old and 8 to 12 pounds) that have fed only on their mothers’ milk. The result is a delicate flavor that needs little more than salt and pepper. Once young goats begin to browse on wild grasses and leaves, their meat can take on a stronger mutton flavor.

Lou Lambert, the chef and owner of Lambert’s Downtown Barbecue in Austin, hails from a seventh-generation cattle-ranching family in Odessa, Tex. Lambert remembers when goats were killed for special occasions, like the Fourth of July. “It would be the kids’ job to get a goat from pasture, feed it out, then help with the slaughter and tending the low fire,” he says. In the West Texas fashion, this meant cooking in an underground pit fitted with a rebar cage in which the meat would be slowly smoked and kept moist with a mop sauce made with any combination of beer, vinegar, onions, tomatoes and dried chilies. “The cabrito would get so tender that you’d need to put chicken wire underneath it to catch the meat falling off the bones,” Lambert says.

I like smoky, slow-cooked cabrito the best, so it tends to be a weekend project. We buy the goat (the meaty hindquarter) from a market in Fredericksburg on the way to our ranch. My husband, who loves to tend to a slow-smoking fire almost as much as he likes to simmer large vats of shrimp shells, lights an oak fire in the grill. We season the meat simply, with plenty of salt and pepper and a bit of cumin and allspice, though sometimes red chili powder sneaks into the mix. I allow the meat to absorb the marinade for an hour, then grill it for two to three hours, which gives me plenty of time to simmer a pot of pinto beans until they’re thick and creamy. When the meat has a crisp crust, it’s wrapped in foil and placed in a low oven for another couple of hours until it pulls apart with a fork. The moist meat has such a rich, luscious texture that it’s almost sticky. I separate the meat from the bones and drizzle the meat with any juices that have collected in the foil packet. I top the meat with chopped cilantro and thinly sliced radishes and scoop a generous portion into a warm, tender corn tortilla. Finished with a spoonful of red salsa, it’s an awfully good dinner for peasant fare.

Nueces Canyon Cabrito

1 3-pound cabrito hindquarter

½ teaspoon allspice

½ teaspoon cumin

Kosher salt and black pepper

½ cup chopped fresh cilantro

6 to 8 radishes, very thinly sliced

Corn tortillas

Tomato salsa.

1. Season the cabrito with the allspice, cumin and a generous amount of salt and pepper, then marinate at room temperature for 1 hour.

2. Build a wood fire and let it burn down to coals. Move about half of the coals to one side of the grill and maintain a small fire on the other side of the grill, so there will be additional hot coals to move under the goat. (Add more wood to the fire as needed.) Place the cabrito on the grill, about 8 inches above the coals.

3. Grill the meat for 1 to 3 hours (a longer grilling time creates a deeper smoky flavor and a crustier outer layer of meat), turning it every 20 minutes or so. Then wrap the cabrito in foil, place in a roasting pan and transfer to a 250-degree oven. Cook for an additional 2 to 3 hours, until the meat is falling off the bone. Remove the cabrito from the oven and let stand for about 15 minutes. Using a fork, separate the meat from the bones and shred, reserving the juices in the foil packet. Place the shredded meat in a warmed dish, top with the juices, the chopped cilantro and sliced radishes. Serve the meat in warm corn tortillas, with salsa. Serves 4. Adapted from Paula Disbrowe.

Country-Style Cabrito Pate

2 pounds cabrito,

cut into 2-inch cubes

1 pound pork butt, cut into

2-inch cubes

1 tablespoon, plus 1 teaspoon, kosher salt

1 tablespoon, plus 1 teaspoon, medium ground black pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for greasing loaf pan

3 shallots, diced

5 cloves garlic, chopped

5 sage leaves, chopped

¾ cup red wine

2 teaspoons whole coriander seed

2 teaspoons whole fennel seed

1 tablespoon, plus 1 teaspoon, paprika

½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

4 strips of bacon.

1. Season the cabrito and pork with the salt and pepper and refrigerate. In a skillet, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat, add the shallots and garlic and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the sage and cook for a minute. Add the red wine and simmer until reduced by one-third. Transfer to a small bowl and chill until very cold.

2. Toast the coriander, fennel, paprika and pepper flakes in a dry skillet until fragrant, 2 minutes. Grind the spices and add them to the meat. Stir in the shallot-wine mixture. Freeze the mixture for 15 minutes.

3. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Using a coarse attachment on a meat grinder, grind the meat into a mixing bowl. Using the paddle attachment on an electric mixer, whip the meat at medium speed until the meat pulls away from the sides of the bowl. Lightly oil an 8-by-4-inch loaf pan. Pat the meat into the pan, then bang the pan on the counter to remove air pockets. Top the paté with the bacon, tucking in the ends.

4. Place the pan in a larger baking dish and add hot (not boiling) water, enough to come halfway up the pan. Bake until the paté reaches an internal temperature of 165 degrees, about 1 hour; begin checking after 45 minutes, since cooking times may vary. Cool the paté for an hour, wrap in plastic and refrigerate overnight. Serves 12. Adapted from Lou Lambert, chef and owner of Lambert’s Downtown Barbecue.