Skirt steak is perfect for steak fajitas since it's a super beefy cut that's delicious when marinated and grilled. I'm not particularly proud of my time spent working at the kinds of cheesy chain restaurants you'd find next to the Victoria's Secret at the mall, or perhaps in Times Square. But aside from making me shun any writer who uses the phrase "X to perfection," it did teach me one valuable lesson: People looooooove meat served on a sizzling platter.
It was a well-known phenomenonβif a waiter could sell one order of our Extreme Fajitas TM to a table in their section, a half dozen more orders would quickly follow. It's an unstoppable, visceral reaction. The waiter would plot a circuitous route around the restaurant that would take the platter past as many intermediary tables as possible.
The approaching noise of sizzling meat would halt all conversation in its tracks as diners would gently lift their chins, tilting their noses in the air to catch a whiff of beef, onion, garlic, and chile as the aromas wafted by on thin wisps of smoke and steam. Then there's the DIY aspect of fajitas that makes them a winner.
As a kid, there's nothing better than being presented with that plate of guacamole, pico de gallo, and sour cream; the anticipation of that sizzling platter of meat and vegetables laid down before you. When they arrive, you've already picked out a soft, blistered floured tortilla from the steaming stack in the warmer at the center of the table.
The meat itself should be ultra juicy, with an overwhelming, almost buttery beefinessβthis is skirt steak, after all, the butteriest of all beefβaccented by a fajita marinade that's slightly sweet, very savory, and packed with lime and chile. And, of course, that meat's got to be tender. Nothing worse than biting into a carefully wrapped fajita only to have that long strip of beef slip out of its tortilla housing, like a sleeping camper from his sleeping bag. Better to be able to bite that camper in half, right?
