What's Spanish For "Goddamned Delicious?"

If I had to guess, I'd say "tacos al pastor."

Events are conspiring in your favor, my friends. Yesterday was both the first time I've had the delicacy known as pastor, a sweet-and-spicy pineapple-marinaded slow-roasted pork, as well as the first warm-ish sunny day we've had in ninety-three million YEARS. It put me in mind of oh-so-Midwestern Cinco De Mayo celebrations, where all we pasty-assed Kansans congregate and consume way too much cheap tequila and bland burritos and bitch about them damn furrners takin our jobs. Usually at On the Border or some other rape of all that is good and holy in the guise of a "restaurant."

But it's also the first real festival of spring where it's warm enough to hang outside, so it holds a special place in my tiny black heart, regardless.

So today, because the snow is starting to melt (I KNOW it's going to get ballscicle cold again next week, SHUT YOUR FACE AND QUIT HARSHING MY MOTHERFUCKING MELLOW) and I tend to get obsessive over new food, I'm making a big damn batch of pastor with homemade tortillas (you have Megan Stuke to thank for the latter, and you can find her immensely entertaining tutorial here, along with a recipe for queso fundido that has me kicking myself in the ass for not picking up some DAMNED POBLANOS while I was at the store. Shit.)

So. The pastor. The lovely delicious drool-inducing PORK. I don't care if it's the other maggot-infested purple HERPES meat, I'd still love me some pork.

First off, you need to make your marinade. (Disclaimer: I am not Mexican, more's the pity. I do not have a lifetime of experience cooking Mexican food. I don't even have a bitchy Mexican mother-in-law to tell me what I'm doing wrong (everything). So I am not claiming that this is anything even approximating an authentic pastor. It is, however, really really damn tasty, and even the most cracker-ass white girl (me) can make it at home.)

I went a little batshit, finaly having an excuse to buy up so many of my local Price Chopper's mind-boggling variety of dried chilis. Showing what I consider to be remarkable restraint (so remarkable that I rewarded my heroic act of self-denial by buying myself a pint of el Jimador on the way home), I limited myself to picking up only Guajillo, Arbol, and Ancho chilis. And a couple of cans of chipotles. In adobo sauce. Shut up.

As far as I'm concerned, you can use whatever damn chilis you want. I'm going for a sweet, smoky flavor with a little spice, but some people like to scream prayers while they poop. Who am I to judge? So I used probably four or five anchos, two or three guarillos, and two arbols, with maybe three chipotles thrown in because damn, I love their flavor. I tore the stems off, shook the seeds into the trash, and threw them into the food processor with some vinegar and lime juice, because the HELL if I'm going to spend all morning chopping peppers only to forget and rub my eyes and then spend the REST of the day contemplating suicide.

Since I'm using dried peppers, I scraped the resulting mess into a saucepan with the juice of one lime and one lemon, most of a Dos Equis (any lager will do, but I'm a sucker for themes), a shot of tequila because I wanted an excuse to open the bottle before 11 am, the juice from two cans of pineapple chunks, Mexican oregano, paprika, cumin, and two packets of Sazon brand Achiote (Note: if you use this achiote, do not panic if your poop turns an alarming shade of orange for a while. I don't know what's in it, exactly, that is such an efficient poo dye, but damn.) Simmer this whole mess until the dried peppers aren't so dry anymore, or about half an hour. Do not turn your back on the very curious and slightly evil toddler at this point, and for the love of all that's holy, DO NOT go to the bathroom while she has access to your stirring spoon. Um . . . I mean . . . haha, what? Move along, CPS, nothing to see here.

While it's simmering, you want to chop the hell out of some pork. You can use a tenderloin, a butt roast, (heh. BUTT!) or a big package of chop ends and centers that's been marked 50% off because it's probably going to spoil in two hours. I recommend the latter, because if there's any application in which you can get away with using almost-spoiled pork, it's in a dish that has a metric assload of spices and is also cooked for hours. This is why we invented spices and cooking with fire in the first place, right?

Chop it up into the thinnest, shreddiest bits you can. If you're using a roast, I recommend that you start cutting on it before it's all-the-way thawed. (What? You're not using a roast that came out of your deep freeze? What are you, a motherfucking Rockefeller? Tell your damned maid that meat is easier to cut up when it's kind of frozen. Damn.)

Then chop up a couple of cans of pineapple, mix that into the marinade, and smoosh the whole thing up with your by-now August-Underground-worthy pork. Cover that mess up with plastic wrap and stick it in the fridge for a minimum of four hours, but overnight is best.

The cooking is the easy part. You want a low, slow oven. I recommend no hotter than 250. Spread the sticky porky mess out in a pan, put a handful of pineapple slices over that, cover with foil, and roast it for a few hours. Add more beer if it starts to dry out.

If I have to explain to you how to use this to stuff tacos, or roll it up into enchiladas, or stick it between two slices of good bread and start throwing around the word "tortas" like you've ever even once been south of Oklahoma, they you're a worthless excuse for a human being and don't even deserve to eat this awesome food.