You know fajitas. You know them because of timing.
Fajitas wowed Texans at a Houston restaurant called Ninfa’s when introduced to the menu, just at the point when Tex-Mex burst its banks and began flooding over the nation. The snap from the pan, the pall of white smoke, the rustic pan, the sizzling presentation — who could resist the allure?
But do you know alambres?
If fajitas represent an Americanized interpretation of frontier chuck wagon meals along the Rio Grande, alambres are the real thing — simple, home style chopped meat and vegetables served with a stack of tortillas.
The concept owes little, if anything, to refined dining. Alambres result from a cut of meat, a slap of bacon, whatever root vegetables or peppers happen to fill pantry baskets and necessity. Yet as flavors born of expediency often attest, simple can be sublime.
Consider America’s fascination with fajitas. The flavors are scrunched into a charred, bittersweet, hissing mass. Meat and vegetables yield to scorched black metal and heat. The alambres served at La Parrilla in Middletown, on the other hand, allow room for the bite of onion or the acrid streak of bacon.
It’s honest food.
Depending upon the region in Mexico, alambres may be chopped or skewered. At La Parrilla they prefer the former. In the “clasico” version, the husky stride of steak contends with and then blends into the rich, smoky wealth of bacon. It’s a basic and beautiful combination that forms a foundation for what follows.
Mushroom, bell pepper and onion provide contrast. But the bell pepper stands out, developing a snarl from the pan, without surrendering its natural sweetness. The mushrooms serve in a supporting role to the steak, cushioning the hewn nature of the meat. The onions nip through the cushy protein.
Unlike the fajita, each ingredient holds firm to its character.
The mound of chopped meat and vegetables are bound by a mild mannered cheese. Melted into the alambre while it cooks, the cheese contributes a creamy note.
There is no showmanship, no smoke, no snap, crackle or pop as it arrives on the table. La Parrilla presents the dish with black beans and rice — no fuss, only flavor.
And that’s the beauty of an unadorned dish.
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
