How to Build Your Own Backyard Barbacoa Pit and Prepare a Barbacoa Feast | Eater

"After months of YouTube research — videos from Puebla, Hidalgo, Guanajuato, Nuevo León, Guerrero, Arizona, Texas, and California showing everything from kids leaping over pits to teams lowering iron baskets of meat — the author decided to build a single, solo barbacoa pit despite serious preexisting injuries (herniated discs; arthritis in upper and lower back; degenerative disc disease; spinal stenosis; nerve damage in arms and legs, exacerbated by a prior stone grill). The videos showed regional differences (Hidalgo’s barbacoa de borrego seasoned simply with salt so the pencas de maguey predominate; Oaxaca and Guerrero first marinating meat in an adobo) and common elements like a consomé made with white onion, garbanzos, rice and sometimes carrots and chiles, and cooking times of six to 12 hours. Planning originally called for stacked and mortared cinder block lined with refractory brick (an $8,000 Home Depot estimate), but to keep costs down the author sourced free fieldstone via Facebook Marketplace — an exchange that included carrying stones up a hill and finding a wooden box containing a dead cat beside a shovel, which he chose not to disturb. After loading roughly a ton of stone, the author could barely stand and received a doctor’s injection — the doctor jabbed "a fresh needle of back loosener between my lower vertebrae" — and was instructed to rest, but returned to the pit and dry-laid the fieldstones in a staggered circle over three days. Safety signage was handmade: a spray-painted plywood skull-and-crossbones reading "Danger, Keep Out." Time constraints forced last-minute changes: galvanized corrugated steel found to be poisonous led to a late Home Depot run, and a local Latin grocer was out of pencas de maguey so the author wrapped meat in aluminum foil with dried avocado leaves tucked inside. The evening-before adobo was made by "seeding, stemming, toasting, soaking, and grinding a handful of dried guajillo, ancho, and morita chiles in the mortar along with garlic cloves, oregano, cumin, bay, salt, apple cider vinegar, and a couple of canned chipotles en adobo," and mutton ribs and lamb shanks marinated overnight. At 4 a.m. the author started the fire, sat drinking coffee and watching the flames, then — after a friend joined him at the fire — lowered the consomé and the meat into the pit, covered it, and went inside for a nap. Guests arrived at 5 p.m.; two friends brought handmade tortillas and salsas, another brought good tequila, several helped unearth the lamb, and everyone composed tacos that were "perhaps the best I’ve made." The author vowed to use more avocado leaves — noting "the grassy and anisette notes it lent to the smoky adobo were tasty and surprising" — and felt validated by guests' praise but also fulfilled by the quiet satisfaction of the early-morning work itself. Plans for the pit’s future include building a stone frame finished with stucco and a custom lid to match the stone grill, and affixing free white tiles (guests will paint the common birds of New York State on them) as a communal, decorative touch. Reflecting on motivation and meaning the author recalls Kenny Shopsin’s line: “The only way to not be crushed by the stupidity of life is to pursue something energetically and gain as much satisfaction as you can before it gets stupid — and just ignore the fact that it’s stupid. The whole thing is shitty. You’re gonna fucking die.” Despite ongoing pain — "my back hurts, but I’m glad I built the pit" — the author concludes he will undertake similar projects going forward: "Better to lose feeling in an arm or leg than to lose feeling altogether." - Mike Diago