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.
Goat Chili
Serves 6.
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.