20-Minute Crispy Seta "Carnitas" over Silky Black Beans
Listen to me, you're going to treat these oyster mushrooms (setas) like carnitas: high heat, heavy hand, zero apologies. The inspiration for this Meatless Tuesday Miracle came from a chaotic evening when my oldest needed a last-minute school project fix, and I had exactly twenty minutes before someone asked for a snack. I looked at a box of mushrooms and some canned frijoles, and mom math took over. We're not suffering for dinner, people! By giving the setas a hard, undisturbed sear on your comal (or hottest skillet), they develop crispy, frilly edges that rival slow-cooked pork. The golden rule? Do not touch them until they crust up. While they sear, we make a bright, raw tomatillo salsa in the blender. And here is your Brooklyn shortcut: do not wash that blender before pureeing the black beans. The leftover salsa just seasons the beans for free! Serve the crispy setas over the silky frijoles, top with the salsa, and finish with a squeeze of lime to wake the whole dish up. Bodega Mode: use standard sliced mushrooms and a jarred salsa verde if you can't find setas. Taste it, salt it—then decide. Ándale, let's eat!
Featured Recipe
20-Minute Crispy Seta "Carnitas" over Silky Black Beans (The Meatless Tuesday Miracle)
We are going to treat these oyster mushrooms like carnitas: high heat, heavy hand, zero apologies. By giving the setas a hard, undisturbed sear, they develop crispy, frilly edges that rival any slow-cooked pork. Paired with a luscious black bean purée and a bright, raw tomatillo salsa that you make in the blender (which we aren't even going to wash before blending the beans), this is your weeknight meatless savior.
Save a copy to your collection for editing
Timeline
Ingredients
- 1 lb oyster mushrooms (setas)(torn into thick shreds by hand (do not chop))
- 3 tbsp neutral oil(divided (avocado or canola work great))
- 1 tsp kosher salt(plus more to taste)
- 1 tsp ground cumin
- 1 tsp ancho chile powder(smoked paprika is fine if you're in Pantry Mode)
- 1 15-oz can canned black beans(do not drain! We need that starchy liquid.)
- 2 cloves garlic(smashed)
- 1/2 white onion(roughly chopped)
- 3 medium tomatillos(husked and rinsed well)
- 1 jalapeño(roughly chopped (leave the seeds if you want the heat))
- 1 bunch fresh cilantro(stems and all)
- 1 lime(cut in half)
- 2 tbsp crema or sour cream
- 8 corn tortillas(warmed, for serving)
Instructions
- 1
Prep your station. Tear 1 lb oyster mushrooms (setas) into thick shreds with your hands. Chop 1/2 white onion, smash 2 cloves garlic, and prep your salsa veg: husk and rinse 3 medium tomatillos and roughly chop 1 jalapeño.
5 min
Tip: Tearing the mushrooms instead of slicing them creates craggy, irregular edges that crisp up beautifully in the pan.
- 2
Make the bright salsa. Into a blender, toss the tomatillos, jalapeño, 1 bunch fresh cilantro, the juice of half the 1 lime, and a pinch of 1 tsp kosher salt. Blend until it's a bright, slushy green sauce. Pour it into a bowl and set aside. Don't even wash the blender—the residual salsa will make the beans taste better. Brooklyn shortcuts, baby.
3 min
Tip: Taste it—then decide. If your tomatillos are very tart, a tiny pinch of sugar balances it out.
- 3
Get a large cast-iron skillet or comal screaming hot over medium-high heat. Add 2 tbsp neutral oil. Drop in the mushrooms in a single layer. Now, the hardest part: step away. Do not stir them for at least 4-5 minutes so they develop a hard, dark crust on the bottom.
10 min
Tip: Do NOT salt the mushrooms right now. Salt draws out moisture, which leads to steaming. We want a hard sear.
- 4
While the mushrooms sear, heat a small saucepan over medium. Add the remaining 1 tbsp neutral oil, the chopped onion, and smashed garlic. Sauté for 2 minutes until fragrant, then pour in the entire 1 15-oz can canned black beans, liquid and all. Let it simmer and reduce slightly.
7 min
Tip: That can liquid is liquid gold; it contains the starches that will make our purée impossibly creamy.
- 5
Once your beans have simmered and softened, carefully pour them into your dirty blender. Add 2 tbsp crema or sour cream. Blend on high until the mixture is completely silky and smooth like velvet. Leave it in the blender to keep warm.
2 min
Tip: If it's too thick, add a splash of water. You want it to be spreadable but rich.
- 6
Your mushrooms should have a serious crust by now. Toss them around, then sprinkle in 1 tsp ground cumin, 1 tsp ancho chile powder, and the remaining kosher salt. Toss for 1-2 more minutes until the spices bloom and coat the crispy setas. Squeeze the remaining half lime over the top and turn off the heat.
3 min
Tip: Adding the spices at the very end ensures they toast in the oil without burning and turning bitter.
- 7
Warm 8 corn tortillas on a dry comal or directly over a gas flame until pliable. To serve, swipe a generous, swooshy pool of the silky black beans on a plate. Pile the crispy "carnitas" mushrooms right in the center. Drizzle aggressively with the raw tomatillo salsa.
2 min
Tip: We're not suffering for dinner! Serve this with the warm tortillas on the side so everyone can build their own bites.
Chef's Notes
Bodega Mode: If you absolutely cannot find tomatillos for the salsa, swap in a splash of apple cider vinegar, double the lime, and maybe add a quarter of a white onion to the blender for sharpness. It won't have the exact same fruitiness, but the acid logic remains intact!
María “Mari” Santiago
Oaxacan comfort, Brooklyn shortcuts, weeknight bright.
María “Mari” Santiago was born in Oaxaca, where her earliest kitchen memories are measured in scent: chiles toasting on a comal, cinnamon and chocolate blooming in mole, and the warm, nutty snap of a tlayuda folded in half for the walk home. She learned by watching—first her tías, then her abuela—picking up the small, practical rules that never made it into written recipes: how to tell when the garlic is *just* right, how to rescue a too-spicy salsa, and why you always taste the broth before you add the salt. Now in Brooklyn, Mari cooks the food she grew up on while raising two little kids and juggling real-life time limits. Her style is “real flavor, real life”: traditional Oaxacan and everyday Mexican dishes—moles, caldos, frijoles, enfrijoladas, salsas, and crispy tlayudas—made weeknight-friendly with smart shortcuts, brighter salsas, and more vegetables without losing the soul of the dish. She’s not precious about rules, she’s big on swaps, and she’s on a mission to prove that you can cook deeply flavorful Mexican food with what you can actually find at a normal grocery store (and still get dinner on the table before a meltdown). Mari’s recipes read like a friend texting you from the produce aisle: clear, funny, and unpretentious, with a side of abuela wisdom. If there’s a hard-to-find ingredient, she gives you a realistic alternative, tells you what will change (and what won’t), and keeps the focus where it belongs—on food that tastes like home, even when home is a small Brooklyn kitchen.