Bronzed pork dressed in gold
After two years of treacherous battles and wreaking mayhem on the Aztec Empire, thousands of men lost in the goose chase for fame and wealth under the nobel guise to spread Christianity and Spanish reign. Folklore has it, Hernán Cortés hosted a grand banquet at his palace to celebrate the final fall of Tenochtitlan and the Aztec Empire in 1521.
The conquistador butchers a pig and cooks it with what’s available — its own lard —and serves it to his guests with Tlaxcalan cornbread. There and then carnitas was said to be born.
Though the dish was created after the Empire’s fall, the nature of Carnitas bears the practice of these ancient people. The use of the entire pig for the dish reflects the Aztecs way of life, paying honor to their wild hunt, using everything it had to offer. With pork butt and shoulder as the conventional stars, other parts like the belly, cheeks and offal cuts such as buche (stomach) and trompa (snout) also shine within the dish.
This creates a diverse texture and seductive flavor profile, a bunch of different cuts tanned under the red sun, Carnitas truly represents a dish that uniquely parallels Mexican people and culture.
When Marcos presented the plate of carnitas, each portion of pork glistened with rich caramelization from simmering in lard of the pig, dressed in gold and perfectly bronzed; much like the jewelry worn by the Aztecs. With in-house pressed tortillas, homemade salsa and a robust glass of agua de jamaica, one could not help but appreciate life in that moment, everything so fresh it’s crisp.
Much like Cortes, the first bite of this dish assaulted my garrison and opened regions of my palate I never knew existed. A trove of stored memories I kept safe unlocked in me, and suddenly the scattered Sundays my family spent around a table came to me. With a bite of the carnitas, life and a revived childhood rushed through my veins.
Carnitas have always held a special place in my heart – they have been there after church as a child and as my sobering companion, following a night of pickling my liver as a college student. I think about how beautifully simple the dish is, almost though it’s taunting me with how great life can be if I take my time. There’s a cheerful stoicism and generosity in spite of the overwhelming history of this dish. It comes home to you even with the simplest plate of carnitas and tortillas.
I believe that Hernán Cortés was after the wrong kind of wealth when he invaded the Aztec Empire. His true success came not from slaughter or ruling, but from the birth of a beloved dish. The gold he feened for now corroded and lost, his remains now fuel for the lawnmower of a suburbanite. The materialistic wealth he sought after pales in comparison to the wealth he stumbled upon by defeating the Aztecs.
Carnitas establishes this rooted wealth of communion with others, celebration together. They are made and purchased by the pound; they’re meant to be shared. Carnitas are conversation starters and meant to fill you until you can’t talk any longer.
It is this that makes us human, socializing with strangers and loved ones. Carnitas Uruapan is one of those remarkable places where you can reconnect with the past in Chicago, a true gem within a bustling city.
Header by Noel Reyes
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