I’m Kayla, and I cook for friends a lot. I tried tasajo meat because my neighbor from Oaxaca swore by it. Then a Cuban friend showed me a totally different way to use it. Two paths. Same name. Wild, right?
For a concise, no-frills primer on what tasajo actually is, the Wikipedia entry breaks down its origins and variations.
Let me explain.
So… what is tasajo?
It’s salted beef. Sometimes it’s thin and fresh, like a seasoned steak (Oaxacan style). Sometimes it’s dried and very salty and needs a long soak (Cuban style). Both hit that salty, beefy note. But they cook very different.
Think of the Oaxacan version as tasajo's cousin to cecina—thin, quick-cooking, and deeply seasoned.
If you’re curious how a Cuban kitchen preps and serves the dried version, Marabú Restaurant’s guide walks through the soaking, shredding, and final seasoning.
For a deeper look at tasajo’s history and regional twists, the folks at HatsofMeat break it down beautifully. Their even more detailed field report on the cut—my honest take after many meals—is where I picked up half these tricks.
My first bite
My first taste was Oaxacan tasajo from my local Mexican market. The butcher sliced it thin, like a big sheet. I tossed it on my Lodge cast-iron pan until the edges crisped. The smell was smoky and a little sweet. I folded it into a tlayuda with beans, cheese, and lettuce. Did it make me smile? Yep.
Later, I tried Cuban-style tasajo that came dried and stiff. It looked like beef jerky’s serious cousin. If you geek out on chew tests, their roundup of which meats actually make the best jerky goes deep on texture. I soaked it, changed the water, then simmered it. After that, I shredded it and cooked it with onions, peppers, and a splash of sour orange. It tasted bold. Salty, but deep.
How I cooked it (two ways that worked)
Oaxacan-style (thin, salted steak):
- Pat the meat dry.
- Light oil on both sides. Not much.
- Hot pan or grill (I used a Weber kettle once). About 2 to 3 minutes per side.
- Rest it. Slice across the grain. This matters.
- Squeeze lime. Done.
Cuban-style (dried, very salty):
- Soak 12 to 24 hours. Change the water a few times.
- Simmer in fresh water for 60 to 90 minutes, until tender.
- Pull it apart with forks.
- Sauté with onions, garlic, peppers. I added a touch of tomato paste and cumin.
- Finish with lime or sour orange. Salt? Usually not needed.
Tools I used: cast-iron skillet, kitchen shears, tongs, a cheap rice cooker (for steady simmer), and a ThermoWorks thermometer to keep the heat steady.
Real meals I made
- Tlayuda night: crisp tortilla, refried black beans, tasajo strips, queso, lettuce, avocado. Hot sauce on the side.
- Breakfast tacos: leftover tasajo, scrambled eggs, pico, a little crema. Fast and friendly.
- Rice with tasajo: Cuban-style shredded tasajo, white rice, sweet plantains, and onions. Sunday comfort.
- Salpicon salad: cooled tasajo bits, chopped tomato, red onion, cilantro, lime, and a tiny splash of olive oil.
I should mention: the same taco night that sold me on tasajo got an upgrade later when I swapped in ultra-tender cachete meat. Different cut, same crowd-pleasing vibe.
What I loved
- Big flavor with little effort. It’s salty in a good way, like bacon’s cousin.
- It cooks fast (Oaxacan) or keeps well (Cuban, after soaking).
- Great for parties. It feeds a crowd and holds up on a buffet.
- It plays nice with beans, rice, tortillas, and plantains.
That beef-forward punch also scratches the same itch as a well-rendered deckle cut; both drip flavor without a ton of fuss.
What bugged me
- Salt. Did I mention salt? If you’re watching sodium, be careful.
- It can get chewy if you skip the soak or slice with the grain.
- The dried kind smells strong while soaking. Not bad—just… beefy.
- Price swings. Some cuts cost more than regular steak. And some packs have more fat than you expect.
Little things that made a big difference
- Slice across the grain. It changes the chew from “hmm” to “hey!”
- Lime or sour orange at the end. Bright cuts salty. Magic trick.
- Rest your meat a few minutes. Juices settle. Texture feels better.
- If it’s still too salty, add potato to the simmer. It absorbs some salt. Then toss the potato.
- For Oaxacan style, don’t overcook. Two minutes too long turns it tough.
Who should try it?
- Folks who like beef jerky, carne asada, or smoky BBQ.
- Home cooks who want big flavor fast.
- People who meal prep. It reheats well and stays tasty.
- Fans of loose-grain flap meat who crave crusty edges.
Who should pass? Anyone on a low-salt plan or who hates strong savory smells in the kitchen.
Taste notes, plain and simple
- Oaxacan: salty, beefy, a little smoky if grilled. Thin and crisp at the edges.
- Cuban (rehydrated): rich, meaty, deep. Like a salty pot roast you can shred.
A quick day plan that worked for me
Saturday lunch: grill Oaxacan tasajo on cast-iron, slice, and make tacos.
Saturday dinner: toss extra tasajo over a salad with lime.
Sunday: simmer Cuban-style tasajo, shred, and serve with rice and sweet plantains. Leftovers become Monday lunch.
My verdict
Tasajo tastes like a shortcut to flavor. It’s not gentle. It’s bold. On busy nights, I love it. On salty days, I don’t. But I keep a pack in the freezer and a dried slab in the pantry. When friends come over, it’s a win.
Whenever tasajo night sparks lively chatter in our group text, the conversation sometimes drifts from “did you marinate this?” to spicier, more suggestive territory. If you’re curious about where playful food banter ends and something more intimate begins, this clear rundown on what sexting is can help you understand the boundaries, etiquette, and safety tips so your messages stay fun—and trouble-free. And if those texts evolve into plans for an in-person meetup while you’re road-tripping through Arkansas’s barbecue belt, the updated Backpage-style resource at your Fort Smith personals guide details verified listings, safety pointers, and quick ways to connect, so you can focus on great company (and maybe more delicious smoked meat) instead of logistics.
Would I buy it again? Yes—especially for cookouts, game days, and simple weeknight tacos. Just bring the limes. And maybe a fan for that soak.