Cast Iron Skirt Steak Tacos with Melted Peppers and Radish Pico

You're probably going to take one look at these tacos and think

those kind of look like fajitas…but not really, but sort of…

You’d be right, and I actually almost named these “skirt steak sorta-fajitas”, but fajitas already have a PR problem (“1992 called and wants it’s entree back”)….so I didn’t need to complicate the matter.

Fajitas often get a "ho-hum" reaction, lacking the culinary versatility of tacos and certainly not receiving the honor of their own weekday. Fajita Friday, anyone? Not so much. But what even makes a fajita different from a taco, anyway?

First, it's important to understand that "fajita" refers specifically to the filling, traditionally grilled and sliced skirt steak—a humble cut with an ultra-beefy flavor. Fajitas are always accompanied by peppers and onions, and never in a crispy shell.

So, why didn’t I call these fajitas then? Honestly, it’s more of a vibe.

To me, fajitas are those dramatic, head turning, sizzling plates of meat and peppers with plumes of steam billowing behind as they're paraded through the restaurant. Who isn’t a little exhilarated when the server sets down that hot cast iron plate with its array of toppings for you to craft your own fajita? It’s a choose-your-own-adventure moment.

Fajitas seem to be more of an event than an entree.

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So, I wanted to manage expectations when it came to these tacos. All the essentials are here—the skirt steak, peppers, and onions—but with a few liberties taken and without the drama and theatrics of restaurant fajitas, it felt right to call these tacos.

First, my fajita "fall from grace" lies in the preparation of the onions and peppers. Traditional fajita veggies can be a bit too "toothsome"—that al dente texture but for vegetables. They can also end up bitter, burned and acrid after a sauté in a screaming hot cast iron skillet. Instead, I prefer them caramelized and sweet, their sugars coaxed out slowly in the oven. This method not only enhances their sweetness and softens their texture, but also syncs up perfectly with the cooking time for the steak.

I also craved something acidic and cool to balance things out. Enter radishes—often an afterthought, I felt their sharp, peppery bite deserved the spotlight. I made a radish pico, combining julienned slices with white onion, lime juice, cilantro, and jalapeño. This pico was the ideal contrast to the rich, smoky steak and melty sweet peppers and onions.

For the skirt steak, a marinade packed with