I was in my early twenties when I first went hunting deer with a friend in south Texas. There were whitetail everywhere, and we each had our deer by the end of day two. We took them to a butcher in Freer and hanging in the shop were several dressed out goats.
I sometimes ask really stupid questions, such as “What’re those things?” and “What’cha do with ‘em?”
About two hours later my friend Marty was giving me instructions in goat cooking. It took the entire night, but by sunup we were ready to feast on goat chili, barbequed goat, baked goat, goat stew, goat carne guisida (not the same thing as goat stew or goat chili), goat steaks, and fresh goat sausage. Six goats make for a lot of cooking, but Marty’s family, and the ranch hands were all eager to dig in.
While we were working in the big ranch kitchen, Marty began telling me about the real importance of the goat in Texas. It seems that goats were one of the cheapest things a person could eat, and after the trail drives began in earnest in the late 1860’s, no one really wanted to eat their beeves when goat was so readily available. The beef was worth money. Real cash. A goat was worth almost nothing, but it was quite edible.
He also mentioned that his roots were in San Antonio, where for well over two hundred years his family had operated eateries of various kinds. One of his great grandmothers and her two sisters had sold chili in one of the plazas in front of their small café. Food was prepared in the café’s kitchen and brought out in the evening to a big table where it would be dished up to the rich and poor alike. Then she would sit down on a stool and play her guitar while everyone ate their goat chili. The sisters never served beef, and rarely served pork or chicken. Goat was the meat of choice for the chili pot.
Without having to think too hard about it, I realize one beef would feed a handful of cowboys for several days, but without refrigeration, most of the beef had to be made into jerky. For fresh meat on a more consistent basis, goat was the answer. It was smaller, cheaper, and quite tasty. Very little, if any, was left over after a few hungry cowboys or vaqueros left the chuck wagon.
I knew about cabrito that was served in some of the restaurants in Texas, but I always thought it was some kind of “foreign food.” At least it was foreign to me. That morning I tasted my first goat. It was goat chili on top of a fried egg with tortillas, onions, and queso fresco. Very good. Then I proceeded to eat my way through a little of everything else we had prepared. I left the table a changed man.
A few weeks later I was in San Angelo on business, and there was a goat auction taking place that day. I wandered over there and watched for a short while, but auctions aren’t my thing. However, I spoke with a few of the men there about what they do with all those goats. The answer was almost always the same. Food.
I never knew just how important the goat was to Texans. Or just how tasty goat is. It may well be one of the best-kept secrets in the state. Apparently all the goat eaters weren’t sharing their knowledge with anyone else.
There are as many ways to prepare goat as there are ways to cook beef or pork or chicken. Here is one of my favorites.
3 ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded
2 guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded
1 negro chiles, stemmed and seeded
1 dried chipotle chile
Boiling water, to cover
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon toasted and crushed coriander seeds
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon minced fresh red jalapeno or serrano chile
2 cloves garlic, minced
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound lean ground goat meat
3 pounds cubed goat meat
3 slices unsmoked bacon, chopped
Canola oil as needed
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
2 medium onions, chopped
1 cup or more Shiner Bock beer, or your choice, light or dark
2 cups veal or chicken stock, or goat stock if you have it available
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Hot pepper sauce
Chop or tear the chiles into small pieces (under 1 inch), and place in a small pan or bowl. Cover with boiling water and allow to sit covered with a lid for 30 to 45 minutes. Drain, but save the liquid.
Place the chiles, chili powder, paprika, coriander seeds, cumin, oregano, jalapeno, and garlic in a blender and cover with the soaking liquid. Blend until smooth. Add about 2 teaspoons salt and 3 or 4 big grinds of black pepper to the puree and blend another 15 seconds. Pour the puree over the cubed goat in a glass bowl, stir to coat, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate 8 to 12 hours.
Remove the goat mixture from the refrigerator and allow it to come to room temperature for about 1 hour. Sprinkle the flour over the goat, and stir to mix well.
In a 10- to 12-inch skillet, cook the bacon to render the fat. Remove the bacon to a platter. Add about 1 tablespoon canola oil to the skillet and brown the ground goat meat, breaking up any clumps with the back of a spoon. Remove the browned goat to the platter with the bacon. Add 2 tablespoons canola oil to the skillet. Cook the cubed goat over medium-high heat until browned all over, working in batches if necessary. Add canola oil as needed. Remove the browned goat to the platter with the bacon.
Turn the heat down to medium low and sauté the onions until soft. Raise the heat to medium-high, and add the beer. Bring to a boil and reduce to about 1/2 to 2/3 cup. Pour in the veal stock and heat to a simmer for about 10 minutes.
Pour into a stockpot, add the meat from the platter and bring to a simmer for 6 to 8 hours. Stir occasionally to prevent sticking. When cooked, remove a small portion and taste for seasonings. Add additional salt, pepper, and hot sauce as needed.
This recipe can also be finished in a slow cooker. Reduce the onion/beer/stock mixture in the skillet by about one-fourth, and then pour the onion/beer/stock mixture into the cooker and add the meat. Cover and cook on low for 8 to 10 hours, or on high 4 to 4 1/2 hours.
Serve with warm tortillas, queso fresco, chopped onions, and hot sauce. And maybe a couple of big cheese enchiladas.
You’ll never look at a goat the same way again.
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