Meanwhile, a lamb had caught Don Oscar’s attention. He jostled towards the pen before launching himself inside, swinging his legs over the iron railings like a featherweight climbing into the ring. Firmly but lacking aggression, he massaged the lamb’s neck, back and tail to measure tenderness. Without fat the meat is tough and bland, he told me.
Don Oscar and his younger brother Gerardo represent the fourth-generation barbacoyeros of the Cabañas family. In 1880, their great-grandparents began selling traditionally prepared barbacoa outside of their home in Actopan before a formal marketplace existed in the town. The tactile know-how of barbacoa is ancestral; it has been and continues to be passed down the generations.
The Cabañas siblings’ deftness of touch with animals is a trait they were bound to inherit. Their sister, Martha Cabañas, a manufacturer of police uniforms, told me that as children…
