
Chef Lupita
Arroz a la Oaxaqueña
Oaxaca's red rice, stained with tomato and fried in lard, steamed with carrots, ejotes, black beans, and epazote. The side that anchors a Oaxacan family meal and earns its place beside the main.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
The drunken bean pot of northern Mexico. Pintos simmered with tocino and chorizo, finished with a full bottle of Mexican lager that thickens the broth and rounds the salt of the meat. The pot that sits next to every carne asada from Monterrey to Hermosillo.
These beans are from the north. Not Mexico City, not Oaxaca, not Yucatan. From Nuevo León and Coahuila, from Sonora and Chihuahua, from the ranch country where carne asada is a weekend ritual and the bean pot sits on the corner of the parrilla the entire afternoon. If you are looking for the cooking of the south, this is not that pot. Cada estado, su propia cocina.
Frijoles borrachos are the drunken cousin of frijoles charros. Same base, same tocino, same chorizo, but instead of finishing with broth or water, you pour in a full bottle of Mexican lager. The beer thickens the broth as it reduces, the malt rounds the salt of the cured pork, and the bitterness from the hops cuts the fat in a way water never could. You taste the beer in the finished pot, but only as a low hum behind the chorizo. If you taste raw beer, you did not simmer it long enough.
The chile is chiltepin. The tiny wild bush chile that grows on the hillsides of Sonora, harvested by hand, sold in tiny jars in every northern mercado. A few crumbled chiltepin do more work than a whole jalapeño. If you cannot find chiltepin, a crumbled chile de árbol gets you close. Not the same, but close. A substitution is a compromise, not an upgrade.
My mother did not cook these. She was from Jalisco and her bean pot was a pot of frijoles de la olla with epazote, period. I learned frijoles borrachos in Monterrey, watching a señora named Coco tend a cazuela the size of a washtub on the side of her son's parrillada in the suburb of San Pedro. She told me the rule that has not failed me since: the beans cook in water until they are tender, the beer goes in at the end. Pour the beer too early and the alcohol stops the beans from softening. La cocina no es decoración, es trabajo, and that order matters.
Frijoles borrachos and their teetotaling sibling frijoles charros emerged from the cattle-ranch and mining-camp cooking of northeastern Mexico in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when ranch cooks fed working crews from a single bean pot supplemented with whatever cured pork was on hand. The dish's name traces to the charro horseman culture of Nuevo León and Coahuila, and the addition of beer reflects northern Mexico's deep brewing tradition: Cervecería Cuauhtémoc was founded in Monterrey in 1890 and made lager a household staple across the region long before it became national. The pinto bean itself, rather than the black bean dominant in the south, is the northern bean of choice because pinto thrives in the dryer, higher-altitude soils of the Bajío and the Sierra Madre Oriental.
Quantity
1 pound
picked over and rinsed
Quantity
10 cups
Quantity
1 medium
half left whole, half finely diced
Quantity
1
halved crosswise
Quantity
3
finely minced
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
6 ounces
cut into 1/4-inch lardons
Quantity
8 ounces
casings removed
Quantity
3
finely diced
Quantity
2 to 3
finely chopped, seeds and all
Quantity
4 to 6
crumbled (or 1 chile de árbol, crumbled)
Quantity
1 bottle (12 ounces)
Quantity
1 tablespoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 cup, plus more for serving
chopped
Quantity
for serving
warmed
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| dried pinto beanspicked over and rinsed | 1 pound |
| cold water | 10 cups |
| white onionhalf left whole, half finely diced | 1 medium |
| head of garlichalved crosswise | 1 |
| garlic clovesfinely minced | 3 |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard) | 2 tablespoons |
| thick-cut tocino (slab bacon)cut into 1/4-inch lardons | 6 ounces |
| fresh Mexican chorizocasings removed | 8 ounces |
| Roma tomatoesfinely diced | 3 |
| fresh chile serranofinely chopped, seeds and all | 2 to 3 |
| dried chiltepincrumbled (or 1 chile de árbol, crumbled) | 4 to 6 |
| Mexican lager (Tecate, Pacífico, or Carta Blanca) | 1 bottle (12 ounces) |
| kosher salt | 1 tablespoon, plus more to taste |
| dried Mexican oregano | 1 teaspoon |
| fresh cilantrochopped | 1/2 cup, plus more for serving |
| hand-pressed flour tortillas (optional)warmed | for serving |
| lime wedges (optional) | for serving |
Place the pinto beans in a heavy 6-quart pot with the 10 cups of cold water, the whole onion half, and the halved garlic head. Bring to a boil over high heat, then lower to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered for 1 hour and 30 minutes to 2 hours, until the beans are tender all the way through but still hold their shape. Add hot water as needed to keep the beans submerged by an inch. Do not salt the beans yet. Salt early and the skins toughen and the beans will not soften properly.
While the beans cook, heat the lard in a wide skillet over medium. Add the tocino lardons and cook, stirring occasionally, until the fat renders and the edges turn crisp and deep brown, about 8 to 10 minutes. La manteca es el sabor, and the tocino fat is going straight into the bean pot.
Push the tocino to one side of the skillet and crumble the chorizo into the open space. Cook, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, until the chorizo releases its red-orange fat and the meat is fully cooked through, about 6 minutes. Do not drain the fat. Every bit of it belongs in the beans.
Add the diced onion to the skillet and cook until translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the minced garlic, chile serrano, and chiltepin. Cook for another minute, stirring constantly, until the kitchen smells sharp and the garlic stops looking raw. Add the diced tomatoes and a generous pinch of salt. Cook for 5 to 6 minutes more, until the tomatoes break down and the mixture turns into a loose, dark sofrito with the fat pooling at the edges.
Fish out the spent onion half and the garlic husks from the bean pot and discard them. Scrape the entire skillet, every drop of rendered fat, the tocino, the chorizo, the tomato sofrito, into the beans. Stir gently so you do not crush the beans. The broth will turn a brick-red color almost immediately.
Pour the entire bottle of lager into the pot. The whole thing. Do not save half for the cook, save another bottle for that. The beer is the recipe. Stir once, add the salt and the oregano, crumbling the oregano between your fingers as you drop it in. Bring back to a gentle simmer.
Simmer uncovered for 20 to 25 minutes, stirring occasionally. The beer will reduce, the alcohol will cook off, and the broth will thicken into something glossy and brick-colored that coats the back of a spoon. Taste for salt now, not before. The tocino and chorizo carry their own salt and they need time to give it up.
Stir in the 1/2 cup of chopped cilantro off the heat. Let the pot rest for 5 minutes. Serve in deep bowls or small jarritos with warm flour tortillas on the side and lime wedges for the table. In the north, these beans go next to carne asada, not under it. Asi se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 285g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Lupita
Oaxaca's red rice, stained with tomato and fried in lard, steamed with carrots, ejotes, black beans, and epazote. The side that anchors a Oaxacan family meal and earns its place beside the main.

Chef Lupita
Sinaloa's home-cook white rice topped with cold cubes of cream cheese that soften into the warm grain, finished with crema and a sprinkle of chiltepin at the table. The trick that makes a side dish feel like a small luxury.

Chef Lupita
Sonora's white rice, toasted in butter and steamed with sweet corn and tender peas. The clean, quiet partner to a plate of carne asada, not the red rice of central Mexico.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's white rice with sweet corn kernels, toasted in lard with garlic and onion. The quiet base that holds up against the peninsula's bold achiote-stained stews.