Fajitas didn’t start as a restaurant showpiece. They were borderland thrift food, born from ranch work and backyard grills, built around tough cuts made tender by fire, salt, and time. Somewhere between South Texas and North Texas, they became theater: sizzling platters, billowing steam, the smell announcing itself before the plate ever hits the table. In Dallas, fajitas are less a menu item than a loyalty test. Everyone has a place they swear by, usually learned young, argued loudly, and defended for life.
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