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Social constructs, identity, and the ecological consequences
of carne asada

Nemer E. Narchi1,2, Alberto Búrquez 3,2, Sarah Trainer 4, Rodrigo F. Rentería-Valencia5,2

Abstract

Carne asada, the art of grilling and consuming meat, is one of the single most salient identity

markers distinguishing Northern Mexico and its people. In contemporary times, carne asada has

become not only a consumptive and culinary practice that cuts across all social spheres in

Northern Mexico, but also a powerful marker of identity and culture. Moreover, its explosion in

popularity and meaning are directly related to the development of a centralized Mexican state

during the twentieth century. Using carne asada production and consumption as a lens into

larger issues affecting the region also allows us to examine the impact that imported wheat

culture and pastoralism in the northern arid lands have had on the ecology and sociocultural

practices of the area, which previously relied on indigenous maize cultivation and highly-

structured agricultural sedentarism. Despite its broad implications, analysis of the social and

ecological effects of carne asada, both as an idea and a widespread practice, has been little

studied to date. In this context, we explore the spatial, temporal, and structural dynamics

created by the consumption of carne asada in a specific area of Northwestern Mexico:

Hermosillo, Sonora. We document the ecological, historic, economic, and political mechanisms

that sustain the production of carne asada in this area. In doing so, we aim to build a primal

analysis for this phenomenon both from a social and an ecological perspective. Follow up

1 Posgrado en Desarrollo Rural, Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana-Unidad Xochimilco, [email protected]

2 Next Generation Sonoran Desert Researchers (N-Gen).
3 Instituto de Ecologia, Unidad Hermosillo, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, [email protected]
4 School of Human Evolution and Social Change, Arizona State University, [email protected]
5School of Anthropology, University of Arizona, School of Anthropology, [email protected], Corresponding
Author

1
studies are necessary to disclose the many socio-environmental synergies converging in the

cultural practice of carne asada.

Social constructs, identity, and the ecological consequences

of carne asada

Carne Asada: Imaginaries at Play

Hermosillo is the capital city of Sonora and one of the largest urban center in Northwestern

Mexicon. Arriving for the first time in the modest Hermosillo airport is a unique experience, in

large part because of the ways in which local gastronomy dominates the retail spaces. Normally,

airport shops throughout Mexico carry mass production keepsakes, some local handcrafts,

tequila shots, and mass-produced apparel. Hermosillo’s airport is different. While the shops

carry some ironwood figurines, most of the products – including handmade chiltepin mortars,

sweet-salty coyota pastries, and giant wheat-flour tortillas – are representative of a gastronomy

that is distinctly Northern Mexican. Perhaps the most extravagant of the food-centered shops in

the Hermosillo airport are the freezer shops selling cardboard briefcases with legends that say,

“Producto artesanal de Sonora” (“Artisan product of Sonora”), “Patrimonio Cultural de

Sonora” (“Sonoran cultural heritage”), and similar slogans. These outlets have freezers full of

Sonoran-raised beef, and the six-pound cardboard briefcases are designed to carry prime cuts

of beef in them for up to six hours unrefrigerated. Airport authorities will even allow passengers

to take these briefcases with them as a carry-on items when flying within Mexico.

The importance that locally-raised Sonoran beef plays in the Hermosillo airport

landscape illustrates the central role that the raising, preparing, and eating of beef now has in

regional constructions of cultural identity throughout the Mexican northwest. It is in the state of

Sonora where beef is most deeply associated with daily cultural practices and consumption,

however. The importance of beef is so entrenched in local sociocultural frameworks that cattle

ranching is part of the state’s official coat of arms, despite the fact that the introduction of the

2
first cattle herds did not take place until the mid-seventeenth century (Hernández-Moreno &

Meléndez-Torres, 2012). Carne asada roots in Sonora are therefore not particularly ancient: the

dish itself (and its consumption, and the discourse surrounding it) typically centers on grilled

beef and tortillas de harina (wheat-flour tortillas), food items that only date back to the period

when Jesuit missionaries introduced wheat and cattle during the colonial expansion of the

northern frontier. Carne asada is thus a very recent culinary practice derived directly from

European contact and it has taken deep root in the local imaginary, as well as in the local

ecology.

In this paper we review Sonora’s beef culture from both an ecological and an

anthropological perspective, while acknowledging the occasional tension between these

theoretical approaches. We argue that beef, along with European crops such as wheat, were

introduced to the northern areas of Mexico as part of a strategy that aimed to colonize the

region by transforming it into a landscape intelligible to European conceptions of nature, and

intended to pacify the nomadic indigenous groups living there. In other words, the introduction of

European domestic animals and crops helped the conquistadors to transform a landscape that

they viewed as barren into productive farms, missions, villages, and towns. At the same time,

the introduction of winter crops facilitated the process of forcibly settling formerly mobile groups

of indigenous peoples that had previously roamed the desert in the seasonally-dependent

pursuit of indigenous edible resources. Once converted to sedentary communities, local labor

was used to develop towns (Braniff, 2001).

Today, the practice of carne asada mobilizes a whole industry centered around the

production and distribution of meat and charcoal for its urban consumption, whether in the form

of meat boutiques, high-end restaurants, street vendor taqueros, or family grills. The reliance on

beef and charcoal, the twin demands that underpin the industry, creates strong social and

environmental pressures. For instance, charcoal used in traditional carne asada grilling in

Hermosillo is obtained from raw wood (mainly mesquite) that has been processed into lump

charcoal or charwood. This translates into a continuous demand for wood that is consumed

3
entirely after its first use. Most of that wood comes from trees within desert ecosystems,

including highly vulnerable riparian desert communities (Yetman, 1999).

This paper is divided into three overarching sections. In the first section, we combine

information gathered from historical documents and contemporary research in order to situate

current practices and attitudes towards carne asada within the historical context of the region6.

In the second section, we rely on current research and our own participant observation and

targeted interviews in Sonora to analyze the socio-environmental origins of beef production in

Sonora, discussing the private use of beef in carne asada in family gatherings, as well as its

transformation into a public event and commercial product: the street taco7. The street taco is

now a popular, even ubiquitous, product throughout Sonora and even beyond, as well as

constituting an interesting dietary and cultural practice. We trace the ways in which carne asada

consumption, both in private homes and in street tacos, spread and transformed through space

and time; examine the structural reforms that have undermined small-scale family farming in

Sonora; and explore the urbanization of Sonora’s rural settings in order to understand the ways

in which all of these processes modified the social consumption of carne asada.

In the third section, using information gathered from historical and contemporary

research, as well as our own participant observation in the state of Sonora, we analyze the

environmental impact that changing patterns of carne asada consumption have exerted in the

6Our archival research was immeasurably enriched by access to records, scholarship, and other area-based
scholars in Sonora, as well as by working with archival materials at the Arizona State Museum’s Office of
Ethnohistorical Research and other area-based scholars working at the University of Arizona’s Southwest Center.
7 Our ethnographic research of current practices relating to carne asada relied on extensive participant observation
throughout the city of Hermosillo, supplemented with in-depth interviews of customers, employees, and owners of
shops selling carne asada. During casual conversations at a variety of restaurants and taco stands across the city,
we built rapport that allowed us to eventually conduct unstructured interviews with 20 individuals. We then returned
for in-depth, semi-structured interviews with six restaurant owners, four restaurant employees, two taco stand owners
and one employee, the manager of a meat boutique, and a butcher. By identifying common trends in different
interactions, we formulated questions about the number of taco selling points in the city, the amount of charcoal used
by each taco selling point in a week, the amount of beef bought weekly, the sources of the supplies, the importance of
carne asada in the diet of the peoples of Hermosillo. We also asked each individual to describe in their own words
what constituted the essence of a taco de carne asada. Although we realize that our sample is biased, in favor of
people already intimately connected to the production and consumption of carne asada, Búrquez’s and Rentería-
Valencia’s long familiarity with the city and its province, as well as our reliance on other existing scholarly work,
allowed us to contextualize the data. Interviews were recorded, according to interviewee preferences,extensive notes
throughout and then cross-checked them with each other, for accuracy. Prior informed consent was orally obtained
from all participants, in line with the requirements of Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana - Unidad Xochimilco ethical
prescriptions for publication of this report and any accompanying images.

4
Sonoran Desert biome.8 We first contextualize the structural and landscape transformations that

the government-led reforms of the 1990s have brought, not just to the Sonoran desert but also

to its farmland. Then, we produce an inventory of some of the biotic resources needed to

produce one taco de carne asada, thus illustrating the associated environmental consequences.

Finally, we calculate how many resources are consumed in order to produce one kilogram of

beef, revealing that many aspects of this engrained cultural practice are unsustainable from an

ecological standpoint9.

Wheat and Cattle in Sonora: An Historical Perspective

North of the Yaqui River, the history of colonial Sonora was shaped by the mission system

established by Jesuit priests at the end of the sixteenth century. The changes brought by the

missionaries, and in particular by Eusebio Francisco Kino, were so profound, despite the early

expulsion of the Jesuits in 1767, that many continue to resonate today within the local

populations and ecology of the area (Bahre, 1991; Phillips & Comus, 2000; Sheridan, 2006,

1999, 1992, 1988). The colonization of the Pimeria Alta – as Father Kino named the vast

extensions of desert plains that were home to the Pima (O’odham) people north of the Rio

Sonora – was aimed not just at saving the souls of the native population but also at

incorporating them as labor for the mission system (Bannon, 1955; Bolton, 1984; Brenneman,

2009). By successfully subjugating the local O’odham population, the Jesuit missionaries hoped

to propel the Spanish Empire across the Pimeria Alta to the Gila River and beyond, a pragmatic

and political goal that meshed with a more altruistic aim to move to reduce the inhumane

8 The ethnographic component of this thrust of the research focused on semi-structured interviews with the manager
of a cattle ranch, along with officers at SAGARPA and COFEPRIS, as well as participant observation in Hermosillo
and its surroundings. Data from the interviews with Hermosillo-based taco stand and restaurant owners and
employees – including information on the number of taco selling points in the city, the amount of charcoal used by
each taco selling point in a week, and the amount of beef bought weekly was also important here.
9 The health consequences to the people living in Hermosillo of increasing urbanization, development, and changing
foodways (e.g. an increased emphasis on fried food, red meat, and pre-made food put together and sold outside the
home – all of which are encapsulated in street tacos) are a fascinating topic in their own right but not the focus of this
paper. See Brewis (2011) and Leatherman & Goodman (2013) for discussions of these issues, including some data
drawn from Mexico. Other interesting scholarship on this topic does exist, although we would emphasize that
widespread public discussion of the deleterious nutritional nature of most tacos de carne asada remains largely
absent in Sonora, with few people acknowledging the negative repercussions of a meal dominated by white-flour
tortillas, beef, and lard.

5
treatment of native tribes by European settlers via the assimilation of those natives (Bolton,

1984; Greer, 2000). To achieve their purposes, the Jesuits rewrote the very foundations of Pima

society by turning pagans into Christians, desert-dwellers into town-dwellers, and free men and

women into vassals. In addition to periodic military interventions, they relied heavily on two even

more powerful elements: the introduction of wheat and cattle (Jackson, 1994; Radding, 1997;

Sheridan, 2006, 1988).

Ultimately, the history of the Sonoran province was determined as much, if not more, by

the microbes, seeds, and animals that were brought by the colonial settlers than by the rigid

hierarchies – salvation or damnation, faith or apostasy, subjugation or treason – that structured

the Spanish mindset at the time (Carrillo-Trueba, 1991). In this context, cattle and wheat

constituted crucial agents in the expansion of the colonial empire throughout the northern

frontiers. Wheat served as a means to close the agricultural gap by extending the availability of

food into winter, fostering sedentarism and native incorporation into the mission system, while

cattle became an agent of territorial expansion for the incoming non-indigenous settlers, a

source of food rich in fat and protein for settlers and indigenous people alike, and a means of

upward mobility for Spaniards (Sheridan, 2006, 1988; Yetman, 2012).

Crosby (1972) first labeled the bidirectional flow of non-human presences (plants,

animals, and other organisms) across the Atlantic Ocean, as well as its unintended effects, the

Columbian Exchange. The Columbian Exchange is a complex, far-ranging process that

drastically transformed the social and ecological landscape of Eurasia and the Americas. As an

intrinsic part of the process of colonization, nature had to be transformed into an environment

intelligible for the new settlers, through the drastic reshaping of the fauna and flora of the New

World into the image and likeness of Europe (Ezcurra, 2003; O’Mack & Statistical Research,

2000). The Pimeria Alta is a textbook case study. Along with their colonial mindset, the

Europeans brought the cattle, sheep, horses, and goats that had been domesticated for

centuries in the old World, and countless species of new crops; by 1600, all of Europe’s main

6
farm plants were already being cultivated in the Americas 10 (Crosby, 2004). These Old World

staples became part of local farming practices throughout what is now northern Mexico,

displacing previous sources of food in Sonora and neighboring provinces.

By the time the Spanish arrived in Sonora, the O’odham people had developed

sophisticated horticultural techniques that enabled them to grow different varieties of beans,

corn and squash (Erickson, 1994; Phillips & Comus, 2000;). None of these crops, however,

were able to survive the harsh winter frost. This meant Pimas living in the desert basins that

extended from present-day Hermosillo to Tucson and beyond could not cultivate their fields from

November through March, when frost was an ever-present danger. The desert people were

therefore constantly moving from summer to winter camps (Radding, 1997; Sheridan, 1992,

1988). This pattern changed profoundly with the arrival of the missionaries, for a crucial aspect

of the relationship that the Jesuits fostered with the local populations depended on the gifts of

seeds, nursery stock, and animals they provided. In time, lentils, chickpeas, fava beans,

cabbage, onions, leeks, garlic, cowpeas, sugar cane, mustard, anise, mint, peppers, melons,

apples, plums, and figs all flourished on Sonoran farms, as “thousands of years of Old World

agricultural experiences were suddenly placed in O’odham hands” (Sheridan, 1988: 157).

Out of all the numerous species introduced by the missionaries, the most important by

far was winter wheat, which could flourish during the months when corn and beans would have

shriveled from the cold. Winter wheat filled a gap in the Piman agricultural cycle, allowing the

O’odham to farm year-round (Carrillo-Trueba, 1991; Sheridan, 1988; O’Mack & Statistical

Research, 2000). The policies established by the Viceroyal of New Spain were intended to

make the colonies self-sufficient in terms of wheat; otherwise, the imports from Spain would

have been too expensive and the whole colonial enterprise economically unsustainable

(Carrillo-Trueba, 1991). Furthermore, by introducing wheat cultivation, the missionaries were

able to funnel the historically scattered indigenous populations into permanent settlements,

10 The systematic, large-scale displacement of local food items and “heirloom” animal and plant cultivars worldwide,
first by European colonization and later accelerating as a result of industrialized enterprise – which prioritizes large-
scale grain cultivation, especially of a few rice, corn, and wheat varieties – is likewise an interesting subject but one
deserving in-depth exploration in its own right. We do not explore it here.

7
incorporating them in the process as labor on farms and in urban settings within the colonial

system. In turn, the establishment of more compact villages constituted an important defensive

measure, as Apache raiding intensified during the eighteen and nineteenth centuries. Ironically,

the increase in Apache raids was, in turn, a response to another alteration in the local

ecosystem: the raids were targeted at gaining access to cattle and horses (Sheridan 1988;

O’Mack & Statistical Research, 2000).

Spanish cattle were perhaps Kino’s most spectacular addition to the native food supply

of Sonora. Horses and cattle did not exist in the Pimeria prior to the arrival of the Spanish

missionaries. Indeed, these Old World species were introduced to the Americas as part of the

Columbian Exchange11 . Although horses were perhaps considered the most valuable currency

in the northern provinces at this time, it was cattle that propelled the territorial expansion of the

colonial project. In subsequent centuries, the influx of cattle into an area inevitably preceded a

more overt Spanish occupation. The establishment of new cattle ranches allowed deeper

encroachment by the colonial empire into indigenous land, particularly when cattle-related

disputes arose and needed arbitration and resolution (Bowen, 2000; Hadley 2009; Sheridan,

1999, 1992). For indigenous groups, on the other hand, cattle became a new food source and

sporting event (cattle rustling became a new version of old hunting techniques), as well as a

viable coping strategy for surviving the destruction that cattle herds caused to indigenous

cornfields (Yetman, 2012). Cattle rustling, along with the continued seasonal availability of

native food resources, helped many indigenous groups native to Sonora to cycle in and out of

missionary life, retaining a greater degree of flexibility than the missionaries had originally

envisioned – or desired. As native people increasingly incorporated cattle into their lifestyles and

diets – often via unorthodox means – the European settlers responded through the use of direct

violence, conducting wars of extermination against native populations perceived as recalcitrant

and stubbornly unassimilated (Bannon, 1955; Jackson, 1994; Sheridan, 2006, 1999, 1992;

Yetman, 2012).

11The American Periglacial horse subspecies, Equus caballus mexicanus, disappeared from the Americas during the
Late Pleisocene (Sandom et al. 2014).

8
 In addition to its political usefulness in the Sonoran context, cattle ranching also suited

(at least in the short term) the xeric environment, an area so dry that only a few varieties of

crops could be grown there successfully. Sources of protein had been notoriously lacking across

many communities in the region before the arrival of the Jesuit-run missions. The demand for

protein not available from grains was another factor encouraging colonizers to introduce the

Spanish cow, which successfully adapted to the pasturelands available in the Mexican

Northwest (Camou, 2012). By 1699, herds had spread as far north as the Mission of San Xavier

del Bac (today, just south of Tucson, Arizona) (Sheridan 1988; O’Mack & Statistical Research,

2000; Turner et al. 2003). In later centuries, the cattle industry would become the quintessential

(non-mining) activity of the region, playing a pivotal role in the construction of the “Wild West” of

cowboys and caballeros in the imaginaries of people living on both sides of the Mexican-

American border (Sheridan, 2012; Turner et al. 2003).

The spread of cattle in Sonora also offered local Spaniards previously categorized as

lower socioeconomic status (within the strict hierarchies of Spanish society) the opportunity to

abandon crop-based farming in favor of cattle ranching. Thanks to the immense social prestige

connected to cattle ranching in Spanish (and other European) sociocultural frameworks, this

change in occupation allowed the new ranchers to move up the socioeconomic ladder,

transforming them in the eyes of their peers from commoners and small farmers into gentlemen

capable of owning livestock (Pérez, 1993, 1992; Sheridan 2006; Zycherman, 2008). Such social

mobility linked to cattle farming is not exclusive to Sonora, for it is a common trend in the

Americas. The emergence of Sonoran vaqueros, Argentinian gauchos, and Texas gentleman

farmers was a direct response to the unprecedentedly easy opportunities, through the

exploitation of New World resources and environments, to climb previously entrenched and

intractable social hierarchies imported from Europe (Guy & Sheridan, 1998). Eventually, these

“cattle-are-wealth” families, with the help of a local market bolstered by the arrival of immigrant

miners all clamoring for beef products, played a fundamental part in the creation of a beef-

centered culture in the New World (Sheridan 2006; Yetman, 2012, 1999).

9
 In the early days of beef production, slaughter, and consumption, technological

limitations imposed restrictions on the distribution and commercialization of fresh beef. As a

result, low-tech methods of preservation were essential and few methods of preservation were

more efficient than the dry weather of the Sonoran Desert, reinforced by the scorching sun of

the Mexican Northwest (Camou-Healy, 1998; Camou-Healy & Pérez-López, 1991; Camou-

Healy & Hinjosa, 1990; Hernández-Moreno & Meléndez-Torres, 2012). The slaughtering of

cattle (Figure 1) and the subsequent production of dried meat (jerky) soon became the

foundational act for one of the most deeply ingrained cultural practices in Sonora: the creation

and celebration of carne asada. On slaughter day, ranchers and butchers, with the help of their

families, would leave some animal parts for themselves, grilling these parts over hot coals.

Women would prepare tortillas and salsas and men would gather around the grill. From this ad

hoc set of rituals, the local tradition of organizing a carne asada-based celebration developed

and solidified, becoming an expected and integral part of most major family and community

events (Camou-Healy, 1998; Camou-Healy & Pérez-López, 1991; Camou-Healy & Hinjosa,

1990; Hernández-Moreno & Meléndez-Torres, 2012).

[Insert Figure 1 here ]

[Caption for Figure 1: On slaughter day, the ranchers and butchers, with the help of their families would

leave some animal parts for themselves, grilling these parts over hot coals. These are images of an ani-

mal sacrificed in the high lands of Sonora (in the Macaurawee region) to held a ceremony called Yumar

Courtesy: Alejandro Aguilar Zeleny]

Although beef was given primacy of place in the previous depiction of carne asada

production, the making of tortillas was an equally important component of this process and

mention of tortillas bring us full circle in our discussion, back to our original point that cattle and

wheat farming, taken together, were the two essential agricultural strategies in the incorporation

of Northern Mexico. The introduction of wheat gave Sonoran gastronomy another of its most

prized food products: the flour tortilla. The widespread use of a thin flatbread made from finely

10
ground maize predates the Spanish arrival in Mexico by centuries; the Spanish, however, gave

the flatbread its current name – “tortilla” – and introduced tortillas made from wheat flour as an

alternative to the traditional ones made from maize (Davidson, 2014; Pilcher, 1998). In Sonora,

tortillas de harina became popular at the time that indigenous groups were systematically being

sedentarized and settled into the mission system. In this context, the social and ecological

relevance of Kino’s innovation lies in the fact that at a time in which people were facing

upheaval and change to their basic ways of life, tortillas de harina came to dominate people’s

preferences at the expense of maize-based tortillas, despite the established history of corn

cultivation in the region and the centuries of pre-Exchange prominence that corn had enjoyed in

local diets (Sheridan 2006). Much of this surge in popularity stemmed from the fact that the

missions heavily promoted winter wheat production (as discussed above), but its popularity was

also bolstered by the perception throughout New Spain that the consumption of food items

identified as “Spanish” and “European” denoted higher socioeconomic status (Davidson, 2014;

Pilcher 1998). Elements of this attitude still linger today, combining with current perceptions in

Sonora about food, identity, tradition, and modernity that directly impact consumption of beef-

and tortillas de harina-based tacos de carne asada.

Sonora’s Tacos: From Family Celebration to Public Consumption

Many pre-colonial dishes survived European contact and still remain vital constituents of what

we now commonly identify as Mexico’s national cuisine and/or distinctive regional cuisines (e.g.,

Oaxacan cuisine). Foods now identified as quintessentially “Mexican” by Mexicans and non-

Mexicans alike but whose roots extend back centuries before the conquistadores arrived in

Mexico include: pozole, tlacoyo, ahuautli, escamole, huauzontle, michimole, atole, papatzul, and

tamal. Yet, arguably the most iconic and easily recognized “Mexican” food, the taco, has a

relatively short pedigree when compared to these other nutritionally and symbolically important

foods (Herrera-Sobek, 2012). Pilcher (2012, 2006) has linked the rise of tacos as distinctive

food items in their own right with the late nineteenth-century processes of modernization that

11
brought rural peoples into the urban environments of cities, particularly into Mexico’s capital.12

Tacos, initially constructed for and consumed by the working class, underwent a process of

social refinement after the 1950s, and soon spread like wild fire throughout Mexico and beyond

(García-Garza, 2010; Pilcher, 2012, 2006).

Sonora’s predilection for tacos de carne asada developed within this larger trend. Few

specifics, however, are known for certain. Certainly, as the preceding, historical discussion

showed, the central elements of the modern Sonora taco de carne asada – and in particular the

increasingly popular association of beef-based carne asada and tortillas (of maize or flour) –

were in place relatively early on in the incorporation of Northern Mexico into New Spain. The

modern, commercial taco de carne asada, however, developed much later, dependent, as we

noted earlier, on increasing urbanization, development, and industrialization (Pilcher, 2012,

2006). According to a local blog, La Gotita de José Luis (Anonymous, 2010), for example, tacos

de carne asada were born in the wooden huts of the Red Light District of Hermosillo, consumed

in order to restore the depleted energy of men patronizing the dance floors and prostitutes

there. This same blog credits a young entrepreneur, Ventura Sierra, with introducing tacos de

carne asada to the mainstream gastronomic market of Hermosillo. With the aide of small tortillas

and the use of thinly chopped meat, Ventura Sierra allegedly managed to convince his new

customers that tacos de carne asada were the perfect snack food: filling, fast, and employing

foods (e.g. beef and white flour) associated with higher socioeconomic status and a European-

style modernity (Pilcher, 1998; Sheridan, 2006). The explanation advanced by La Gotita de José

Luis (Anonymous, 2010) is included here, not because the source is particularly reputable but

because it perfectly illustrates the mythology surrounding the origins of tacos de carne asada.

Pilcher (2012) makes the argument that the Sonoran phenomenon of tacos de carne asada

12 Although there is clear evidence that corn domestication and processing first occurred millennia ago in what is now
the Mexico-Guatemala region (Davidson, 2014), and that corn tortilla use was widespread throughout what is now
Mexico long before the Spanish arrived, the origins of the taco specifically have been surprisingly difficult to trace and
scholars are divided in their views. Dakin (2009), for example, argues that based on linguistic evidence, the taco most
likely comes from itacate, the snack farmers would take to the milpa while they were working.

12
grew out of constructed nostalgia among locals faced with the influx of processed Westernized

foods in the latter half of the twentieth century.

The primacy given to beef through the Sonoran taco de carne asada combines a

number of interesting strands, some old and some more recent. On the one hand, as noted in

the preceding section, the Spanish conquistadores’ obsession with cattle as a marker of wealth

and prestige, combined with a more general trend within Mexico – which did not disappear after

Independence – of prioritizing European-introduced food items over “indigenous peasant” crops

as a marker of White-ness and high socioeconomic status produced a culture that prized beef

as a luxury item and symbolically-loaded product (Pérez, 1993, 1992; Pilcher, 1998; Sheridan

2006; Zycherman, 2008). This was especially pronounced in the cattle-ranching North. Sonora,

however, also lies directly across the border from the United States, and this geographic

proximity has additionally impacted Sonoran ideas about meat and modernity. Invoking

traditional foods and the importance of tacos de carne asada as a reaction to the encroachment

by U.S. retail (e.g. Walmart), U.S. media, and U.S. fast food outlets may be one such reaction,

as Pilcher (2012) suggests but the U.S. ideal, as a “modern” industrialized state, still has

immense power in Sonora. Frequent consumption of red meat is now a hallmark of U.S. diets

but also perceived by many other countries to index affluence and modernity (Popkin, 2009;

WHO, 2002).13 Based on our ethnographic data, we conclude that Sonorans tend to believe

(often fervently, to a level approximating religious fervor) that red meat consumption does

indicate health, power, food security, and modernity. Indeed, foreign travelers to Sonora, as well

as Mexicans in the south, often castigate the North as being both “too Americanized” and yet

“too primitive”: when the philosopher Vasconselos remarked that “upon arriving in Sonora one

‘abandons culture’ and is greeted only by ‘grilled meat,’ ” (as quoted in Alvarez, 2010), he was

simply echoing a commonly-held stereotype non-Sonorans hold about the province and its

13 To reiterate an earlier point, this paper is not focused on the health implications of the epidemiological transition
occurring in Mexico, and its associated changes in terms of globalization, retail restructuring, rising obesity rates, etc.,
although we acknowledge how pivotally important such issues are.

13
people. Thus, eating beef in Sonora indexes modernity, but also regional distinctiveness and

tradition in a fascinating, albeit contradictory, way.

A similar pattern emerges when we consider tortilla preferences in modern Sonora.

Today, we see tortillas de harina routinely preferred over maize-based ones in tacos de carne

asada throughout the contemporary US-Mexico borderlands. As we documented in the

preceding section, maize-based tortillas have the advantage of history: they have been eaten by

indigenous groups in Mexico for thousands of years (Sheridan 2006). Tortillas de harina,

however, have the advantage of prestige in the minds of many locals, a prestige that once again

invokes a non-indigenous, cosmopolitan modernity for many consumers that dates back the

Spanish-introduced ideas about the superiority of foods originating from Europe. At the same

time, however, consuming tortillas de harina is also an ordinary, everyday activity that easily

allows residents of Sonora to claim local affiliation and identity and to invoke local tradition and

heritage (Alvarez, 2014, 2010). Alvarez (2010) argues, for example, “After grilled meat (carne

asada), the second most emblematic sign of Sonoran identity is the tortilla de harina (wheat

flour tortilla),” a claim made not only by other scholars (e.g. Leon-Portilla, 1972), but also by the

general lay public. Ironically, globalization (and the preferences of foreign visitors in search of

“true” Mexican cuisine) is bringing the maize-based tortilla back into circulation in Sonora, and

now many taquerías offer (sometimes with disdain) tortillas de maize. For many people in

Sonora, however, a true taco de carne asada must be wrapped in a flour tortilla. The taquería

owners we interviewed for this project unanimously agreed that carne asada pairs best with

tortillas de harina. Berenice, for instance, a small owner of a taco restaurant in Hermosillo and

native to Durango said that when she first came to Hermosillo, she did not like tacos de carne

asada as presented in the local fashion. She had grown up eating tacos with tortillas de maize.

Nevertheless, after years living in Hermosillo, wheat flour tortilla “seduced” her, she reported.

Other trends in perspectives and voiced opinions emerged during the course of our

ethnographic research among the taqueros in Hermosillo. All, for instance, agreed that the

expansion of taco stands more generally stems from the recession cycles of the Mexican

14
economy and the recurrent devaluation of the country’s currency. Armando, for example, an

owner of a taquería, told us: “My father started this business in 1986. He was left without a job

and had few monies, but given that he was a butcher, he knew many of the sellers inside the

beef business, he had their trust and started selling tacos on a little cart.” Alonso, owner of

another taquería, shared a similar story: “My dad was a butcher and because my uncles

ventured into the taco business, he realized that the salary was better selling tacos than

chopping beef. With some savings, he opened his own business in 1988.” Luis, who worked as

manager of a taquería, was raised in rural Sonora. He went to Hermosillo to study and soon

became the compadre (friend) of the original owner of the taquería he was managing at the time

of our interview. Soon after his arrival in Hermosillo, Luis started working in the taco industry

himself. Luis informed us: “The boom in taco stands comes along with downturns in the

economy. This was especially evident during the Salinas administration.” Other interviews

revealed similar themes, revealing the links between macro-level political and economic policies

and the effects downstream on individual decisions with respect to economic and employment

choices.

For the past fifty years, the state of Sonora has undergone significant structural changes

in its economy, with the decline of agriculture and the substitution of tertiary economic activities

(Lara et al., 2007). This economic shift, similar to the one that occurred in Mexico in the

nineteenth century, fostered the massive consumption of tacos in mobile stands (carretas) and

restaurants in the city. People who used to work in agriculture and cattle ranching started

integrating into the urban manufacturing and service industries from the 1970s onward and this

created both a new labor pool for the taquerías and restaurants springing up everywhere, and

also a vast market of potential consumers of commercially-made tacos de carne asada.

Currently, Sonora’s urban population represents 86% of the state’s 2,662,480 people

and close to 30% of these urban dwellers live in Hermosillo, the state capital (INEGI, 2010). The

residents of Hermosillo, similarly to most of the inhabitants of big cities in Mexico, are extremely

mobile and spend most of their time commuting from their homes to their jobs and vice versa.

15
Thus, the lifestyle of these urban dwellers demands a supply of fast foods, provided by an ever-

increasing number of transnational fast food giants (e.g. McDonald’s, Pizza Hut) (Godoy &

Camarena-Gómez, 2012). Yet, carne asada, especially when stuffed into tacos, remains the

preferred food consumed outside of home in all of the Mexican northwest (Taddei et al., 2012).

Alonso reported: “People come for a taco because they like their food to be done fast.” Anibal,

son of one of the taco pioneers in Hermosillo and current owner of a taquería, claimed: “The

secret is that people want it to go from the grill to their mouth. This is why they prefer carne

asada: there is no waiting in the making and there is nothing that can compare to eating a hot,

freshly done taco.”

Anibal’s hypothesis aside, we are compelled to agree with Meléndez and Cañez (2012)

that the modernization of food patterns in Mexico mimic U.S. trends, in which food is industrially

produced to satisfy a capitalized market that encroaches and ultimately displaces traditional

foods and means of production. Tacos de carne asada as they are being produced today in the

factories and taquerías of Hermosillo have, in many respects, quite a bit in common with a

hamburger from Burger King. As part of our fieldwork, we visited the new Sonora Factory Grill,

Hermosillo’s first fully-automated taco drive-through. The owners of this fast-food version of

carne asada have gambled that optimizing the time of delivery after the food is ordered will be

key to their success. Their non-charcoal line of production is capable of grilling six kilograms of

meat in four minutes, thanks to twenty-four ceramic burners. Yet, tacos de carne asada do, at

the same time, invoke issues of Sonoran identity and nostalgia for Sonoran consumers

(Alvarez, 2010; Pilcher, 2012) in a way that a hamburger never will. Berenice, for example,

stated: “Taquerías in Hermosillo are a place for families to get together and enjoy.”

Overall, then, despite the various permutations and interpretations that carne asada has

experienced through the years, it remains a pivotal symbolic expression of the socio-historic

relations involved in creating the modern state of Sonora and its patchwork cultural heritage. In

other words, taking a bite of a taco de carne asada is nothing less than tasting all of the

disparate cultural, social, and historic interactions of the area. Moreover, given that these

16
interactions have occurred in a particular geographic area – and an extremely delicate one, at

that – the rise and maintenance of carne asada in the local gastronomy has also resulted in

severe transformations of landscapes and biota for the region.

A Socioecological Perspective on Carne Asada: Transforming the Desert

We have traced, in the previous sections, the initial development and subsequent increasing

social and ideological importance of carne asada made with beef and tortillas de harina. This

socially constructed demand for carne asada in Sonora is fed by a number of federal and state-

led policies, large-scale retailers and processers, and, of course, most directly by ranchers and

taqueros. While we were unable to explore the complicated dimensions and repercussions of

eating tortillas de harina during this phase of fieldwork (in part because tracing the number of

tortillas consumed is very difficult and in part because tortillas are not necessarily made locally

in Sonora currently), we were able to combine our ethnographic research with existing

ecological scholarship to explore the ecological impacts of the beef production necessitated by

carne asada, via two measures: (1) the environmental impact of ranching and beef production

and (2) the ecological costs associated with the production of fuel for the grilling that is so

pivotal to the making of carne asada.

Cattle in Sonora

As we mentioned previously in this article, cattle are a relatively recent addition to the Americas.

The raising of beef cattle is now, however, considered one of the pillars of the economy of

northern Mexico, and until recently, of the southwestern U.S. as well (Sheridan, 2006). Prior to

the Columbian Exchange, agricultural and hunter-gatherer peoples in Sonora maintained a

precarious balance in their use of desert resources, locating for the most part on land along the

fertile foothills of the Sierra Madre and the area’s major rivers. As noted earlier, this balance was

broken with the arrival of Europeans, who introduced large livestock herds. These herds then

became a source of conflict between the newly arrived European pastoralists and native

farmers, mainly because the cattle do not recognize borders and tend naturally to range far and

17
wide, foraging on crops and leaving devastation in their wake (Baroni, 1991; Perez, 1993, 1992;

Camou-Healy & Pérez-López, 1991; Yetman, 2012).

The use of arid lands for beef production has extensive ramifications. Until the twentieth

century, raids by indigenous locals and issues involving water kept cattle concentrated into

highly localized areas, usually in ranches where water and corrals were readily available (Turner

et al. 2003). Machado (1981) also notes that during the Mexican Revolution, herds drastically

declined, allowing the recovery of former rangeland. Over the last century, however, increased

security, together with better technology related to providing artificial watering holes, allowed the

extensive exploitation of dry lands (Baroni, 1991; Perez, 1993, 1992; Camou-Healy & Pérez-

López, 1991; Yetman, 2012). Larger and larger herds transformed the balance between

grassland and desert scrub, contributing to the invasion of mesquite and thornscrub (Archer,

1994, 1989; Bahre, 1991; Búrquez et al., 1998; Johnston, 1963; Turner et al. 2003). Thus, the

cattle industry has spent much of the twentieth century transforming large tracts of arid and

semi-arid lands in Sonora, with every sign that such trends will continue in the twenty-first

century (Búrquez et al., 2002; Turner et al. 2003).

Over the last twenty years, Mexico has restructured its economy, as part of a global

trend favoring open markets and neoliberal reforms. The restructuring in Mexico aimed at a

complete transformation of the state-society relationships, in which the state no longer protected

the national economy from international markets (Cuijpers & Fernández, 1995; Grispun &

Kreklewich, 1995). The restructuring led to austerity measures, privatization, a reduction in

public sector spending, and the liberalization of trade and investment (Cuijpers & Fernández,

1995; Grispun & Kreklewich, 1995; Randall, 1996). As part of these shifts in policy, the Mexican

government restructured Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution, allowing formerly communal

land to be parceled and sold (Yetman & Búrquez, 1998). Among other repercussions, this

allowed large agro-businesses to re-concentrate previously small land parcels into large agro-

industrial plots. The amendments to Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution during the early

18
1990s thus initiated a process of appropriation by dispossession and land conversion (Cuijpers

& Fernández, 1995; Grispun & Kreklewich 1995; Harvey, 2003; Randall, 1996).

The significance of these changes in the context of our arguments here lies in the fact

that in the case of livestock, the privatization of agricultural property opened the door to a

transformation process with dramatic ecological and social consequences in Sonora (Baroni,

1991; Randall, 1996; Wong-Gonzalez et al., 1994). These consequences included the clearing

and replacement of indigenous Sonoran vegetation for grazing cattle, as well as the loss of land

tenure for many local communities (Yetman & Búrquez, 1998). Increasing livestock activities

have also led to the proliferation of expensive (monetarily and in terms of water) wells, tanks,

troughs, and irrigation projects (Moreno, 1992). Of all animal husbandry practices, beef

production has the greatest water demand on dry rangeland: the production of one kilogram of

meat from a cow living in the desert requires 50,000-200,000 kilograms of water (Eshel et al.,

2014; Pimentel et al., 2004, 1997). By contrast, birds – a source of high quality protein – require

much less water, where a serving size of chicken-based protein requires roughly 4% of the

water needed to produce the same amount of beef protein (Eshel et al., 2014; Pimentel et al.,

2004, 1997). Research (Moreno, 2012) indicates that a significant portion of the surface water

and groundwater in the Sonora River basin no longer reaches the river, and instead is retained

for livestock uses. Every year, cattle growers ask for federal and state aid to provide water, even

though the average rainfall over the year has not changed appreciably during the last century,

and is not expected to change in the near future (Overpeck & Udall, 2010).

The government has also provided subsidies to maintain a high livestock presence in

Sonora and government subsidies to establish African prairie grasses have resulted in important

sections of the Sonoran Desert being replaced with a less diverse ecosystem (Bravo-Peña et

al., 2010). The introduction of the African buffelgrass (Pennisetum ciliare) has led to the

alteration of large areas of the arid Sonoran region (Cox et al.1988; De la Cueva, in press;

Moreno, 1992; Ibarra et al., 1995; Turner et al., 1995). Since its large-scale introduction,

buffelgrass has multiplied the stocking rates, i.e. the number of cattle that can be

19
accommodated in a particular acreage, by a factor of three (Hanselka & Johnson, 1991; Perez,

1993, 1992; Burquez et al., 2002; Franklin et al., 2006). However, this gain has been achieved

at the expense of the removal of the desert plants, plants moreover, that provide forage when

buffelgrass stops growing during the winter. The replacement of perennials, coupled with

overgrazing, has in turn led to increases in the risk of drought-like conditions in Sonora.

Ranchers know that after a few years of management, buffelgrass productivity

decreases. They then sometimes resort to setting controlled fires to restore part of the lost

fertility and to stop the return of woody desert and thornscrub species; since plants of the

Sonoran Desert do not have adaptations to fire, significant local biodiversity is lost every time a

fire occurs (Búrquez et al., 1998; Búrquez et al., 2002; Búrquez & Martínez-Yrízar, 2000; Turner

et al., 1995). Central Sonora, particularly the Sonoran Desert subdivision known as the "Plains

of Sonora", has been the area most severely affected by the transformation of the desert into

buffelgrasslands (Moreno, 1992). Even now that research has established the long-term

environmental consequences of buffelgrass, new permits for clearing the desert are still granted

by the SEMARNAT. For example, between 1996 and 2006, 117,000 hectares of Sonoran Desert

and thornscrub were granted permits for transformation, and almost 100,000 hectares of

already established buffelgrass lands that the desert had started reclaiming were “restored” to

their exotic grass condition (Bravo-Peña et al., 2010). Considering the numerous legal and

illegal clearings (see Yetman (2002) for a detailed exploration of the activities of the drug cartels

in using buffelgrass to launder drug money), the fully transformed area of desert easily exceeds

one million hectares in Sonora alone (Búrquez et al., 2002).

Given the clearly established evidence that the desert of Sonora is in a precarious

condition, and that a significant reason for this ecological transformation has to do with the

proliferating, government-supported cattle ranches and feedlots, we were curious how much of

an impact urban demand for carne asada has had on cattle production in recent years. Our first

major finding was that absolutely no actual data has been collected on the production and

consumption of carne asada in Sonora, nor have there been any attempts to clearly link data

20
from the cattle industry with carne asada practices. We therefore decided to attempt to trace

out the links between cattle, carne asada production, and taco consumption. The numbers and

analysis we employ here are meant to give the reader a rough picture of the ecological context

of carne asada, and also – we hope – will serve as a preliminary analysis for future detailed

explorations of this important topic.

For the purposes of our rough analysis here, we estimated that the city of Hermosillo has

about 245 street stands selling carne asada14.Based on information gathered in the interviews

with the owners of the street stands, we calculated that more than 3,057,600 kilograms of carne

asada-style meat are consumed each year in Hermosillo. That amount does not even consider

the domestic and more formal restaurant consumption of grilled beef. One kilogram of beef can

be spread across an average of 10-20 tacos, a very imprecise number but one that reflects the

extreme variability in taco size and quality reported by taqueros. For this exercise, we estimated

twenty tacos per kilogram of beef (the estimate is based on the opinion of butchers and

residents of Hermosillo). Even with this conservative number, we estimated that the 784,342

inhabitants of Hermosillo (INEGI, 2010) alone ingest a staggering amount of 61,152,000 tacos

at minimum from taquerías.

Carne asada in these informal establishments comes mainly from the chuck (diezmillo),

the ribs (costillas), and the true “fajita” (arrachera: from the diaphragm). Other parts of the cow,

usually of higher quality, are also offered in some taquerías. The 3,057,600 kilograms of beef

that we estimated are being consumed via carne asada represent about 30,576 steers, since –

according to our informants in the ranching and butchering business – a steer at slaughter time

typically weighs about 545 kilograms, of which only about 100 kilograms of meat per steer come

from the aforementioned cow parts. To calculate the ecological footprint of these cows in terms

of foraging native grasslands, we used the cattle stocking rates in Sonora (INEGI, ND).

According to these rates, each cow needs 24.45 hectares of land to forage. This means that

14We ended up estimating 245 street stands acknowledging that our calculations, derived from the interviews we
held with taqueros and governmental officers, are a rough estimate. We approached the Comisión Federal para la
Protección contra Riesgos Sanitarios (COFEPRIS) for the current census of street vendors of carne asada. After re-
ceiving no official response, we obtained an unofficial estimate of “about 300”.

21
each Hermosillo inhabitant requires about one hectare of Sonoran Desert for his or her yearly

taco share. However, given that only about one-third of each cow is transformed into tacos de

carne asada, the total acreage should be corrected to about 0.31 hectares per person per year

(see Figure 2).

[Insert Figure 2 Here ]

[Caption for figure 2. Figure 2. The grilled meat taco ecological footprint (the cost of

beef)]

To reiterate, this is a very preliminary set of calculations; we are admittedly missing many

important variables, including the effects of gender and age on taco consumption. The

importance of this analysis lies in the fact that no one else has attempted to collect this kind of

data and to establish these sorts of linkages.

Firewood, charcoal and the mesquite bouquet of carne asada

The impact of carne asada goes beyond the effects of the grazing cows that eventually become

the beef so central to a taco de carne asada. Indirect impacts include an increasing demand for

charcoal (usually lump charcoal, also called charwood or natural charcoal, made from woody

trees) and firewood for the grilling, demands which seriously deplete local stocks of desert

hardwoods, mainly ironwood, mesquite, and other legume trees (Taylor, 2008).

Once cows become beef, charcoal is needed to produce the famous Sonoran tacos de

carne asada. That charcoal mainly comes from the desert velvet mesquite (Prosopis velutina),

which locals say imparts a unique smoke-flavor to grilled meat. Sonora is the number one

producer of non-timber wood in Mexico (excluding conifers and oaks), and its production of

mesquite and other closely relate desert species accounts for 66% of total Mexican production

(SEMARNAT, 2011). Historically, the most arid counties in Sonora (Hermosillo, Guaymas,

Puerto Peñasco, Sonoyta, and San Luis Río Colorado) have contributed more than half of the

overall extraction of mesquite in Sonora (INEGI, 1993; Taylor, 2008). The ancient forests of

mesquite have therefore largely disappeared, due to an ever-increasing coal demand in the

22
markets of North America and Sonora. The wood from land clearings to establish buffelgrass is

also intimately related to the production of firewood and charcoal, as 90% of the non-timber

wood collected in Sonora is transformed into charcoal (SEMARNAT, 2011; Taylor, 2008).

We sampled the charcoal usage in the Hermosillo taquerías, finding that on average,

they use 50 kilograms of charcoal to produce carne asada every day. Considering that the

estimated 245 taquerías in Hermosillo work six days a week, they must consume something on

the order of 12,250 kilograms of charcoal daily. From our interviews and the existing literature,

we know that most charcoal is locally produced, and indeed, as stated earlier, Sonora is the

largest charcoal producer in Mexico (SEMARNAT, 2009).

Typically, only one kilogram of charcoal is produced from 4-8 kilograms of wood (Antal et

al., 1996; Stassen, 2002; Wolf & Vogel, 1986). We therefore assumed a 20% yield of about 200

kilograms of charcoal for every ton (Mg) of dry mesquite wood. Working back to the amount of

wood needed to produce the charcoal, we found a figure of 19,110 Mg of wood used by the

local taquerias. We know (Burquez et al., 2010) that the Sonoran Desert has a sizable above

ground biomass (AGB): 6.4 Mg ha-1 in the plains (71% of AGB from trees), 25.7 Mg ha-1 in the

arroyos (59% of AGB from trees), and 11.5 Mg ha-1 in the hillsides (71% of AGB from trees).

Only a small fraction of the above ground biomass (e.g. trunks and large branches of hardwood

species) is suitable for transformation into charcoal. Optimistically, only 5% of the desert’s above

ground biomass are harvestable trees, and only half of those trees are suitable for charcoal

production. That gives a charcoal yield of about 0.1136 Mg ha-1 in the plains, 0.3791 Mg ha-1 in

the arroyos, and 0.1236 Mg ha-1 in the hillsides.15 The annual ecological footprint of charcoal

production for carne asada used in street stands would thus be equivalent to harvesting

168,222 hectares of all the useful above ground biomass of the plains, 50,412 hectares of the

arroyos, and 154,580 hectares of hillsides. Using the weighted mean of 16 Mg ha-1 for these

plant communities, the total annual acreage harvested (pooled across community types) would

be 80,375 hectares (see Figure 3).

15We were forced to simplify once again, and to assume local production of charcoal only, without taking imports into
consideration, as we did not have the resources to explore that angle in this very preliminary set of analyses.

23
[Insert Figure 3 here]

[Caption for figure 3 Figure 3.The grilled meat taco ecological footprint (the cost of

charcoal)]

This analysis, in its current form, is more of an intellectual exercise than one that has produced

hard data. Nevertheless, it is an important first step in attempting to delineate some of the

intricacies that characterize the cow-to-taco trajectory in the Sonoran context. Even more

importantly, it clearly demonstrates that the Sonoran love of tacos de carne asada should matter

to ecologists. This intensive usage of the desert to produce charcoal is consistent with the

reported disturbance of all habitats throughout the Sonoran Desert (Búrquez & Martínez-Yrízar,

2000, 1997; Burquez et al., 2010; Taylor, 2008). The return times for a new wood harvest are

likely to be decades, because in economic terms, the resource is depleted and has a long return

time.

Conclusion

The introduction of exogenous crops and fauna into the Mexican northwest after European

contact was intended to impose a mode of production familiar to the incoming European,

rendering the environment and its people intelligible and accessible to newcomers. Fortunately

for the Spanish in Sonora, the biophysical characteristics of the area were so favorable to these

novel organisms, that cattle and wheat farming were extraordinarily successful, replacing

previous patterns of agriculture and migration. This model was so effectively disseminated by

missionaries and settlers (many of whom saw this as an opportunity for immediate promotion up

the social ladder) that beef and wheat eventually became iconic cultural symbols of the Mexican

Northwest, enshrined above all else in the now-ubiquitous taco de carne asada found

everywhere in Sonora. These food products now symbolically trump once more abundant and

easily accessible resources (such as maize) that are nonetheless still used in local

gastronomies.

24
 Over the years, with the aid of structural reforms and a shift in economic development,

the private, familial event of carne asada has become a public practice, materialized in the form

of tacos de carne asada sold in restaurants, stands, and carts in every town in Northern Mexico.

A taco encompasses the history of cultural clashes, social relationships, economic transitions,

and landscape transformation that has been written across the Sonoran landscape since the

Spanish Conquest. Currently, in Sonora, taco production has grown into large-scale commercial

operations that depend on many energy subsidies from the government but that also impose

heavy loads on the environment, contributing to land degradation and groundwater desiccation.

The overall environmental impact and sustainability of beef production has been discussed

elsewhere (e.g. Eshel et al., 2014; Pimentel et al., 2004, 1997). However, and to the best of our

knowledge, the linkages between meat production/consumption and particular culinary practices

has been little explored.

Throughout this paper, we have tried to balance our analysis of a deeply rooted and

beloved culinary practice and food product within Sonora with an analysis of its past historical

and current ecological implications. Most importantly, we note that eating a taco de carne asada

means nothing less than tasting not only the whole socio-history of the Mexican Northwest, but

also the surrounding ecology and resources of Sonora.

Acknowledgements

We wish first to thank Ernesto Camou Healy for his encouragement and support. Special thanks

are also due to Enriquena Bustamante Ortega, and Sergio Sandoval Godoy, who provided us

with advice and support in the organization of this manuscript. Much of our data would have

been unaccessible without the help of SAGARPA’s Eduardo Paredes Bussani and Lorenzo Raul

Portillo Valderrama. In addition, we owe a great deal of thanks to the many people working in

the meat industry in Hermosillo, who allowed us to interview them and explore their practices.

Their thoughtful comments and love for their occupations were both inspiring and informative.

We also wish to take this opportunity to thank the very patient reviewers who provided feedback

25
on the first draft of this manuscript, whose detailed comments and thoughtful recommendations

helped improve our arguments immeasurably. Nemer E. Narchi would like to acknowledge that

his contribution was supported by the Postdoctoral Fellowship Program sponsored by

CONACYT.

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