Grilled Mojo Pork Tenderloin Tacos

Fourth of July week again and I have been assigned onigiri duty for the neighborhood party, which means I have been promoted from "the woman who brings rice balls" to "the woman who is expected to bring rice balls," which is a subtle but important distinction. Being expected means I have been absorbed into the tradition. My onigiri are now part of the neighborhood's Fourth of July the way Bob's potato salad and Diana's brownies are part of it. I am flattered and slightly overwhelmed by the responsibility, which is how I feel about most forms of acceptance.

I made three kinds of onigiri for the party: salmon, pickled plum, and a new one — barbecue pork, in honor of the holiday. Fumiko would consider barbecue pork onigiri an abomination. I consider it a bridge. The whole point of my cooking is the bridge — between Japanese and American, between Fumiko's kitchen and my kitchen, between the food I inherited and the food I am inventing. Barbecue pork onigiri is the bridge in edible form and it was the first thing to disappear at the party. Even Bob, who had never eaten an onigiri before last year, grabbed two.

Miya ate a popsicle for the first time. It was red, white, and blue, purchased from the ice cream truck that parks on our block for the Fourth, and she held it with both hands and licked it with the focused intensity of someone who has discovered the meaning of life and the meaning is frozen sugar water. The popsicle melted faster than she could eat it and she was covered in red, white, and blue drips and she looked like a tiny patriotic mess and I loved everything about it.

Brian was in his element at the party — talking, laughing, holding a beer, knowing everyone's name. I watched him from across the yard and saw what I saw when I first met him at the farmers market seven years ago: a man who is comfortable in the world in a way I have never been, a man who occupies space without apology, whose presence is large and warm and filling. I fell in love with that. I am still in love with that. I am also exhausted by that, because the largeness of his presence requires a corresponding smallness of mine, and I have been small for a long time, and I am not sure I want to be small anymore.

The barbecue pork onigiri was my experiment in bridge-building this year, and watching Bob reach for a second one felt like the bridge holding weight. The spirit behind that filling — bold, smoky, unafraid to cross cultural lines — is exactly what I taste in this grilled mojo pork: a citrus-forward marinade that commands attention, a char from the grill that feels celebratory, and a flexibility that lets it land on any table, wrapped in anything you like. If you have pork left over from a summer cookout, or if you want to make your own version of the filling that disappears first, this is the recipe to reach for.

Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus 2 hours marinating) | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 40 minutes | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs pork tenderloin (1–2 tenderloins)
1/3 cup fresh orange juice (about 2 oranges)
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
8–10 small flour or corn tortillas, warmed
1 cup shredded red cabbage
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves
1 avocado, sliced
Lime wedges, for serving
Sour cream or crema, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Make the mojo marinade. In a bowl or zip-top bag, whisk together the orange juice, lime juice, minced garlic, olive oil, cumin, oregano, smoked paprika, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using.
Marinate the pork. Add the pork tenderloin to the marinade, turning to coat completely. Seal and refrigerate for at least 2 hours and up to overnight. The longer it marinates, the deeper the citrus-garlic flavor.
Prepare the grill. Heat an outdoor grill or grill pan to medium-high heat (about 400°F). Lightly oil the grates.
Grill the pork. Remove the tenderloin from the marinade and let any excess drip off. Grill for 15–20 minutes total, turning every 4–5 minutes, until the internal temperature reaches 145°F at the thickest point and the outside has good grill marks.
Rest the meat. Transfer the pork to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil. Let it rest for 5–8 minutes before slicing. This keeps the juices in the meat where they belong.
Slice and assemble. Slice the pork thinly against the grain. Warm the tortillas on the grill or directly over a gas flame for 30 seconds per side. Layer sliced pork onto each tortilla and top with shredded cabbage, avocado slices, and fresh cilantro.
Serve. Finish with a squeeze of fresh lime and a drizzle of sour cream or crema if desired. Serve immediately while the pork is warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Mojo Pork Tenderloin Tacos — The Filling That Became the Bridge