First things first — heat up a pan, no oil, just dry. Toss in your dried chiles.

You’ll see them darken slightly and smell that smoky scent — that’s when you stop. Don’t burn ‘em; bitter chiles are no fun. Once they’re fragrant, toss them into a bowl of hot water. Let them sit for 10–15 minutes till soft.

If your kitchen starts to smell like heaven and danger at the same time, you’re doing it right.

Alright, into your blender goes the softened chiles (remove stems and seeds), the tomatoes, onion, garlic, cumin, oregano, paprika — and a bit of that chili-soaking water or beef broth.

Blend till smooth. Like, really smooth. If it looks thick, splash in a little more liquid. If you want restaurant-level silky, strain it — but honestly, the texture gives it character.

This sauce? That’s the heart of Birria.

Heat some oil in your big pot. Add the beef chunks — don’t overcrowd. You want them to sear, not steam. Salt, pepper, let them brown.

The smell will hit you — rich, meaty, smoky. Let it sit till each side gets that golden crust. Those little brown bits at the bottom? Keep them. That's the flavor waiting to join the party.

Now, pour your blended chili sauce into the pot. Add the bay leaves, cinnamon stick, and the rest of your broth.

Give it a little stir. Bring it to a simmer, then drop the heat low. Lid on. Walk away for about 2½ to 3 hours.

You’ll start to smell it from the next room. That deep, spicy, rich scent. That’s the sign it’s doing its thing.

When you check it — the beef should just fall apart. Like, poke it with a fork and it melts.

Once it’s tender, take the meat out onto a plate and shred it up. Don’t toss the broth — that’s your consommé, your dipping gold. Skim off a bit of the red oil floating on top — you’ll use that for frying.

If you taste the broth right now, just a sip, you’ll probably make that little “mmm” noise out loud. Totally normal.

Alright, this is the fun part. Heat your skillet on medium.

Take a tortilla, dip it into that red oil from the top of the broth — coat both sides. Lay it flat on the pan. Add a bit of cheese, some shredded beef, fold it, let it sizzle.

You’ll hear that soft crackle. Wait till it goes crisp and golden, then flip. Cheese should melt and ooze out a little. If it doesn’t, you didn’t add enough — rookie mistake.

Do this for as many as you can fit — just keep going. You’ll lose track, then suddenly you’re surrounded by tacos. It happens.

Now, ladle some of that consommé into a small bowl — that’s your dip. Plate your tacos, throw some chopped onion and cilantro on top, squeeze a bit of lime.

Then… dunk. Bite. Dunk again. Repeat until full or emotionally overwhelmed.

You’ll burn your fingers. You’ll make a mess. You won’t care.