At long last, the tools left the kitchen on their debut day of carne asada.
Our bag of charcoal brought down from Cahuacan--it's real wood charcoal, not those little, black nuggets.
Once filled with charcoal, the anafre is ready for lighting, and ready for the grill to cover the coals on top.
The man with the method was Pedro, who taught Patricio to shape balls of oil-soaked, multi-layered newspapers for the kindling.
We had no idea how hot it would actually get: Really, wavy air, turn my cheeks pink hot.
Chiles rellenos with Oaxaca cheese. Onions working their way toward divinity.
Grilled nopal cactus=delicious.
Patricio sizzles the skirt steak to fatty perfection.
The inaugural taco, only lacking a squeeze of lime juice.
A bit of chorizo along with the steak spells better taco in a second.
In a matter of minutes, the table was crowded with knives and boards and bowl of salsa, limes and marinades and bits of delicious bites.
Standing guard over my slowly-toasting tostada.