I battled with myself over the decision to make this Peruvian dish.
First, because Pachamanca is so much more than a recipe. It isn’t simply a dish. It is a meal, a party, a celebration! It is one of those foods that becomes part of your memories.
For years, I couldn’t imagine making it any other way. It’s hard to imagine Pachamanca without a hole in the ground, hot stones, smoke in the air, and people gathered around waiting for it to be ready. That is how I grew up thinking about it.
Let’s think…
Do I have the patience to dig a hole in the ground? Do I have the patience to build a fire, heat volcanic stones, and carefully layer everything just right?
Well… maybe.
Or maybe I can simply bat my eyelashes and convince my husband to dig the hole for me! Although I seriously doubt it. Digging is probably the one thing he only does when he absolutely has to.
And let’s say I actually get that far…
Can I really find all the traditional herbs and leaves? Can I recreate the flavors exactly the way I remember them?
The process is so involved that most moms would never think of making it on an ordinary weekend. It simply isn’t one of those meals you decide to make after work.

As I continued battling with myself, memories began to win.
I remembered the excitement of being invited to a Pachamanca. I remembered the feast, the laughter, and the happiness of sitting around waiting for someone to uncover the Pachamanca and reveal what had been cooking for at least two hours.
I remembered my mother’s hometown of Tarma, one of the most beautiful places in Peru. I’ll leave you some pictures in the gallery because I think you’ll fall in love with it too.
She would get me out of bed before sunrise while we were staying at my aunt’s house in Tarma. Then my mom, my two sisters, and I would take a little colectivo to the nearby town of Acobamba to visit the Señor de Muruhuay Church.
I don’t remember much about the church itself. I remember seeing it from the outside. I remember lighting a candle. I remember praying.
I remember walking way too much! Maybe it wasn’t that much, but I was a little lazy and didn’t like walking. Playing with Teresa, my oldest sister, made the walk much more fun.
But what I remember most came afterward.
We would go to a nearby country restaurant where they specialized in Pachamanca. Huge platters would arrive at the table, filled with meats, potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, and everything that had been slowly cooked beneath the earth… including humitas!!! My favorite!
I honestly can’t remember whether we had to reserve ahead of time or simply wait while the Pachamanca finished cooking. I just remember playing with my sister Teresa while we waited.
If you ever visit Peru, especially Tarma, don’t miss the opportunity to enjoy a traditional Pachamanca. If you’re staying in Lima instead, take a drive to Cieneguilla, where many beautiful countryside restaurants still prepare Pachamanca the traditional way.
(Be sure to visit the gallery. I’ve included pictures and links so you can see the real thing.)
To the Incas, the earth was sacred. It played a central role in celebrations, ceremonies, and even sacrifices… but let’s leave that conversation for another day. Today, we’re here to cook.
How much Pachamanca has changed since Inca times, I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that it continues to bring families and friends together around the table.

While I was debating whether to make this recipe, another memory came back.
One day my mom announced, “Hoy hago Pachamanca a la olla.”
She made it that way only a handful of times, but I never forgot it.
She loved cooking.
That memory gave me permission to stop trying to recreate perfection and start recreating the feeling instead.
My Tagine Method for Pachamanca was born while I was learning Moroccan cooking.
It took me almost two years to truly understand how to cook with a tagine. After the first year, I began experimenting with Peruvian recipes, simply to become more comfortable using the clay pot and to better understand Moroccan tagine cooking.
Then it hit me…
The tagine isn’t traditional Pachamanca, but it feels connected to it. Cooking in clay somehow feels closer to cooking in the earth than using a metal roasting pan ever could.
Later, I also adapted this recipe for a Dutch oven while camping. We dug a fire pit, heated the coals instead of volcanic rocks, and recreated as much of the experience as we could. It worked beautifully. I even had to cook the humitas separately because I ran out of room in the pot!
This recipe isn’t meant to replace traditional Pachamanca.
It’s simply my way of bringing one of Peru’s oldest traditions into an ordinary kitchen, so that even a busy mom can make it at home.
The internet isn’t just a place to find answers — it is a window to the world. Sometimes we never discover a place simply because we didn’t know it existed. Here you’ll find links, videos, and resources that open those windows a little wider.
As I tell my students, to understand a cuisine, you must first understand its people, its land, its traditions, and the way life is lived there. Food is never just food — it is culture you can taste.
I’m not affiliated with any of these creators, places, or restaurants — I simply found them and loved them, and every link takes you to their own page. I couldn’t film these myself, because I’m far away… but they show the good of my land, and I wanted you to see it too.
For the deepest flavor, marinate the meats overnight.
I know… kombucha sounds strange! But it actually works beautifully as a substitute for the slight acidity and fermented notes of chicha de jora.
I only made sweet humitas this time… 😂 I don’t eat quite as much as I used to! We Peruvians are known for serving a contundente (hearty) lunch.
Place the chicken, country-style pork ribs, and beef chuck into a large bowl.
Using a bamboo skewer or the tip of a small sharp knife, gently poke the meat all over. Don’t make large holes—you just want to create little openings so the seasoning and marinade can work their way into the meat.
Sprinkle the meats with a generous pinch of kosher salt (or Sal de Maras, if you have it). Don’t overdo it. You’re not trying to completely season the meat at this point—you’re simply giving the flavor a head start.
Toss everything together and let the meat rest while you prepare the marinade.
The marinade only takes about 10 minutes to make.
Combine all of the marinade ingredients in a bowl. Add a small splash of chicha de jora or ginger-turmeric kombucha if you’re using it.
Don’t use it all! Save the remaining chicha or kombucha for tomorrow.
Once the marinade is finished, pour approximately half of it over the meats.
Now comes the fun part…
Massage the meat.
Poke it.
Massage it again.
Turn everything over and make sure every piece is well coated.
Cover the bowl and refrigerate overnight.
Place the remaining half of the marinade in a separate covered container and refrigerate it as well. Keeping it separate prevents contaminating the marinade you’ll use tomorrow.
Today is the big day!
If you’re planning to serve lunch around 12:30 p.m., you’ll want to be in the kitchen around 8:30 a.m. (Yes… welcome to a Peruvian celebration!)
Place each vegetable into its own bowl. Add a little of the reserved marinade to each bowl and toss gently.
Set everything aside while you prepare the rest of the meal.
Now you have a little time. This is when I make all of the accompaniments. I’ll continue adding those recipes to my website because, honestly, you can’t have Pachamanca without some of them!
Depending on your family, you might also want to prepare:
Yuca should always be peeled before cooking. Although it can be cooked in the Pachamanca, I actually prefer cooking it separately in a pressure cooker until tender. Then I fry it until beautifully crisp. That contrast between the moist, roasted meats and the crispy yuca… Oh my gosh. It’s absolutely delicious.
▶ Watch: How I Peel YucaPreheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Place your tagine on the stove while it is still cold. Add a little oil and heat it over low heat.
Working in batches if necessary, sear all of the meats.
You’re not trying to cook them through. You’re simply building flavor. Reduce the heat, but make sure you hear a little sizzle. Remove from the tagine to begin the assembly.
If you have banana leaves or corn husks, line the bottom of the tagine. Now layer everything in this order:
Before covering everything… Pour in about ½ cup of your remaining chicha de jora (or kombucha).
Then make a bundle of fresh herbs. I like using fresh:
Tie the herbs together and lay them on top. Cover everything with another banana leaf or corn husk. Place the lid on the tagine. Bake for 30 minutes.
Carefully remove the tagine from the oven. Lift the lid. Remove the banana leaf (or corn husk). Now add the softer vegetables. Replace the herb bundle. Cover again with the banana leaf or corn husk. Put the lid back on.
If everything still looks nice and moist, great. If it looks a little dry, add another splash of chicha de jora or kombucha. Every tagine behaves a little differently, so don’t be afraid to adjust. Return the tagine to the oven for another 30 minutes.
My Pachamanca was finished after one hour total. Honestly… I was amazed. The beef was incredibly tender. Normally, beef chuck would take me close to three hours to become that tender.
If you don’t own a tagine, I would probably experiment by partially cooking the beef first and then finishing everything together, but I haven’t tested that method yet. For now… The tagine is my favorite way to make this recipe.
Check that all of the meats are tender and fully cooked. Arrange all of your sauces and accompaniments on the table.
Then comes my favorite part. Pile everything from the tagine onto a large serving platter. Or even better! Just open the tagine! It will be a touch clutter! But no problem!
If you’ve ever seen a seafood boil served in the United States, you’ll recognize the idea. Instead of newspaper, though, line your platter with fresh banana leaves.
Everything comes out together. Trust me. It makes the whole presentation feel like a celebration.
Now gather everyone around the table…and enjoy.
This is my way of bringing one of Peru’s oldest traditions home —
from the earth, to the clay, to your table.
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