For some odd reason that I can't quite explain, I woke up on Thursday wanting tongue.

In a sandwich or a taco. Sheesh!

It's a mystery, since though I've heard people sing the praises of tongue tacos and sandwiches, I've never had tongue before, and I've certainly never cooked a tongue before. But for some reason, thinly sliced tongue on rye with mustard and horseradish and tongue folded into hot corn tortillas and topped with pico de gallo sounded really good.

So on my way home from work on Friday, I stopped to look for a tongue. A place where I've seen tongue before--it has a great selection of international foods and cuts of meat that can be hard to find in the local Stop and Shop, like skirt steak. No dice. No tongue. Bummer.

So I picked up the other things I'd need for tacos de lengua--tortillas and onions and cilantro and lime (I've got ripe tomatoes growing on the deck) and crossed my fingers that I'd be able to find tongue if I went back bright and early the next day.

Not much can get me out of bed at 7 AM on a Saturday, but an obsession with absolutely no basis in real-world experience is a surprisingly good motivator. So off to the store I went, and eureka! Tongue. In a neat cryovac package. At $3.99 a pound. I could get two pounds of seven bone chuck roast for that! Who knew offal was so expensive? But obsession doesn't quail at price, so 5 minutes and $11 later, I was the proud owner of a big old beef tongue.

Once I arrived home, I filled a large bowl with lightly salted water, opened up the tongue, and placed it gently in the salted water to soak for a few hours. While I waited, I filled my biggest pot with water, a few peppercorns, a dried bay leaf, four whole cloves of garlic, two carrots, and an onion, peeled and quartered.

I put the soaked tongue into the pot, brought it to a simmer, plunked on the lid, and popped it into a slow oven to braise until tender--about three hours.

I opened the oven to remove the now-cooked tongue and was hit by a wave of..... Pot roast! This tongue smelled exactly like pot roast.

So I fished the tongue out of the broth and dropped it into a bowl of cold water to cool. Once it was cool enough to handle, I used a sharp paring knife to score the tough "skin" that covers the tongue, and peeled it off. If the skin doesn't come off easily, the tongue isn't cooked enough--put it back in the oven for awhile.

After peeling the tongue, you'll see a thin white coating over the meat. Carefully scrape this off with a paring knife--a *sharp* paring knife, so you don't maul the tender meat, and remove any fat, gristle, or veins (these tend to be near the back of the tongue). Cut the tongue into thin slices against the grain.

I kept the firmer slices from the tip of the tongue for sandwiches, and used the more gelatinous meat near the back for tacos, chopped fine.

And you know, those tacos de lengua totally lived up to their advanced billing--deeply meaty, with the bright pico de gallo cutting through the fatty richness of the tender, crispy meat.

How did I get the meat crispy, when so far all I did was braise it? Read on....

Tacos de Lengua

Pico de Gallo -- chopped tomatoes, serrano chiles, onion, cilantro, and lime juice tossed with a pinch or two of salt
Warmed corn tortillas
Finely chopped cooked tongue

Heat a frying pan or griddle over medium high heat. Add as much of the chopped tongue as you plan to eat--about 1 1/2 tablespoons per taco. If the griddle or pan is nonstick, you won't need to add any oil, as the meat will render out some fat as it cooks. If your pan isn't nonstick, you may need to add a teaspoon or so of vegetable oil to prevent sticking.

Fry the tongue until crisp and browned on all sides, turning as needed. It will take 5 - 7 minutes to get the meat crispy on all sides.




Season with a pinch of sea salt, then portion the meat into the warm tortillas and top with pico de gallo.