
Chef Lupita
Cebollas Moradas en Escabeche Yucatecas
Yucatán's pink pickled red onions, blanched and steeped in naranja agria with allspice, charred habanero, and oregano yucateco. The Peninsula's table garnish, in every fonda from Mérida to Tizimín.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Yucatán's cold shredded beef salad, brisket simmered with epazote then pulled by hand and tossed with rabanito, cilantro, red onion, habanero, and naranja agria. Eaten over hand-pressed tostadas.
Dzik is from the Yucatán Peninsula. The word is Maya. It means shredded, and the dish is exactly that: meat pulled by hand into fine threads, then tossed cold with chopped vegetables and naranja agria. You see it on courtyard tables in Mérida, on cantina counters in Tizimín, on Hanal Pixán altars all across the peninsula at the end of October.
The Yucatán is its own country when it comes to cooking. The peninsula was separated from central Mexico for centuries by jungle and geography, and the Maya kitchen evolved on its own terms with its own ingredients: naranja agria instead of vinegar, chile habanero instead of jalapeño, achiote where central Mexico uses ancho, epazote and chaya as everyday herbs. Dzik carries all of that. It is not a beef salad in the way the rest of the country might understand the phrase. It is a Maya preparation that happens to be cold.
The meat must be shredded by hand. Not with a fork, not in a processor. The señoras in Tizimín pull it between their fingers until the threads are fine and even, and that texture is the dish. The naranja agria is the dressing. No oil. No vinegar. Just sour orange juice, salt, and the natural sharpness of radish and red onion. If you cannot find naranja agria, I will tell you what to use instead, but you should know what you are missing. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and the Yucatán cooks like nowhere else in Mexico.
My mother did not cook Yucatecan food. She was jalisciense and she stayed in her territory. The first time I ate proper dzik was in a small comedor off the main square in Valladolid in my second year of traveling the states. The señora who made it was named Doña Felipa and she shredded the brisket while she talked, never looking down at her hands. She told me the trick was patience: cook the meat slow, cool it before shredding, dress it cold, eat it the same day. I wrote it on the back page of my notebook and I have made it her way ever since.
Dzik takes its name from the Yucatec Maya verb meaning to shred or to tear into fibers, and the technique predates the Spanish conquest, when Maya cooks prepared shredded venison and wild game dressed with the juice of native bitter fruits. The substitution of beef came after the Spanish introduced cattle to the peninsula in the 16th century, and naranja agria, brought from Seville and naturalized in Yucatecan dooryard gardens, replaced the earlier indigenous citrus and bitter fruit juices that had performed the same acidic function. The dish remains a fixture of the Hanal Pixán observance, the Maya Day of the Dead celebrated each November across the peninsula, when families prepare cold shredded meat salads that can be eaten over many hours without reheating.
Quantity
2 pounds
trimmed of heavy fat but not stripped clean
Quantity
1 medium
halved
Quantity
1
halved crosswise
Quantity
2 large sprigs
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 tablespoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
10
Quantity
1 bunch
trimmed and finely diced
Quantity
1 small
finely diced
Quantity
1 bunch
leaves and tender stems finely chopped
Quantity
2
stemmed, seeded, and finely minced (or to taste)
Quantity
1/2 cup
freshly squeezed
Quantity
1
seeded and finely diced
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| beef briskettrimmed of heavy fat but not stripped clean | 2 pounds |
| white onionhalved | 1 medium |
| head of garlichalved crosswise | 1 |
| fresh epazote | 2 large sprigs |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| kosher salt | 1 tablespoon, plus more to taste |
| whole black peppercorns | 10 |
| radishes (rabanitos)trimmed and finely diced | 1 bunch |
| red onionfinely diced | 1 small |
| fresh cilantroleaves and tender stems finely chopped | 1 bunch |
| chile habanerostemmed, seeded, and finely minced (or to taste) | 2 |
| naranja agria juice (Seville sour orange)freshly squeezed | 1/2 cup |
| ripe tomatoseeded and finely diced | 1 |
| tostadas of hand-pressed corn (optional) | for serving |
| sliced avocado (optional) | for serving |
| salsa xnipec (optional) | for serving |
| lime wedges (optional) | for serving |
Place the brisket in a heavy stockpot and cover with cold water by two inches. Add the halved white onion, garlic, epazote, bay leaves, salt, and peppercorns. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Skim the gray foam that rises in the first fifteen minutes. Cold water draws the flavor out cleanly. A hard boil clouds the broth and toughens the meat, and you want the meat tender enough to fall apart between your fingers.
Lower the heat until the pot shows lazy bubbles every few seconds. Cover partially and simmer for two to two and a half hours, until the brisket pulls apart with two forks and the connective tissue has surrendered. Do not rush this. Brisket cooked too fast turns stringy and dry. The broth you build here is the second half of the dish, save it for caldo de res or for moistening the meat at the table.
Turn off the heat and let the brisket rest in the cooking liquid for at least thirty minutes. The meat finishes cooking gently and reabsorbs flavor as it cools. If you have time, refrigerate the whole pot for an hour. Cold meat shreds finer than hot meat, and dzik means shredded. The texture matters.
Lift the brisket out and place it on a cutting board. Using your fingers, pull the meat into very fine threads, finer than you think. No fork shredding, no food processor. Dzik is shredded by hand. The Yucatecan señoras in Tizimín pull it until it looks almost like coarse cotton. Discard any tough fat or sinew you find as you go, but keep the soft yellow fat that flavors the salad.
In a wide ceramic bowl, combine the shredded brisket with the diced rabanitos, red onion, cilantro, minced habanero, and tomato. Toss with clean hands so you can feel the texture. Pour the naranja agria juice over the top and toss again. Season with salt. The naranja agria is the dressing, no oil, no vinegar. Yucatán has used sour orange for centuries because it is what grows there. La naranja agria hace el trabajo.
Let the dzik sit for fifteen minutes before serving. The naranja agria will pull the flavors together and the radish will soften slightly without losing its bite. Taste it. It should be bright, sharp, with the habanero coming in at the back of the throat and the cilantro fresh against the citrus. Adjust salt. Add more naranja agria if the salad tastes flat.
Spoon the dzik onto crisp corn tostadas at the table. Top with sliced avocado and a spoonful of salsa xnipec for those who want more habanero. Lime wedges on the side. Eat with your hands. This is picnic food, courtyard food, the dish you bring to a Hanal Pixán table or a Mérida birthday lunch. Recetas probadas y garantizadas.
1 serving (about 165g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Lupita
Yucatán's pink pickled red onions, blanched and steeped in naranja agria with allspice, charred habanero, and oregano yucateco. The Peninsula's table garnish, in every fonda from Mérida to Tizimín.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's birthday-table coditos, elbow macaroni folded with diced jamón, pineapple in syrup, mayonesa, and media crema. Sweet, rich, and unapologetic, the pasta salad that anchors every fiesta from Mérida to Tizimín.

Chef Lupita
Mérida's regional Caesar, dressed with naranja agria where the lemon would go, queso de bola where the parmesan would go, and codzitos fried in lard where the croutons would go.

Chef Lupita
Yucatán's cantina tuna salad, built on naranja agria, minced habanero, celery, and hierbabuena. Eaten cold on saltines with a slice of habanero on top and a Montejo beer in the other hand.