I couldn’t tell you when I had fajitas for the first time nor could I tell you when I fell in love with them, but I’ve enjoyed making this dish for as long as I can remember. Early in my career I worked at a martini bar that had a full-service kitchen, which doubled as the executive chef’s personal catering commissary. Most of the regular employees were simply young hooligans–constantly munching on whatever wasn’t locked down. But when his catering crew would come in looking like a scruffy band of pirates, and take over the kitchen in order to cater some extravagant event, I knew I was in for a challenging, and thrilling experience! I was fortunate in that I had become friends with the chef, and he brought me in to work with him during these catered events. He’s also the one who introduced me to Jerry Only which led to me actually singing on-stage, in concert with The Misfits, but that’s another tale for another time.
His crew consisted of a saucy Frenchman with a thick accent and an affinity for cognac who could perfectly dice 30 lbs. of onions, trim and sear 12 racks of lamb, execute a perfect veloute and blanch 10 lbs. of asparagus in under an hour! There was a Japanese dude from Staten Island who was always completely Zenned out and smiling, who could bang out tray after tray of perfectly sliced, rolled and cut sushi for hours on end without ever breaking a sweat. There were two Haitian guys that only ever spoke to each other who were, quite simply, the best and most proficient fry cooks I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. There was the California skater burn-out kid that would put on his earbuds, close his eyes and just crank out perfectly grilled meats of all kinds and always at the right temperature! Then there was Maria.
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