Chicken Fajitas — Seasoned with Sofrito, Made with Everything Mami Taught Me

September. My birth month. The month when Carmen Iris Delgado-Ortiz arrived on this earth and the world got louder. I turn fifty-one on the twenty-third and I am not doing anything special because every day in my kitchen is special and I do not need a birthday to prove it. Eduardo will buy me something practical — a new pot, a good knife — and the children will call and Mami will call and she will say, Fifty-one, Carmen. I was fifty-one once. You will survive. She says this every year like survival is the bar, and for Luz Maria it is, because Luz Maria has survived everything — seven children, a husband who drank, a hurricane that took her roof, a son who was murdered — and she is still here at seventy-nine, still calling me on Sundays, still telling me my sofrito needs more culantro. Survival is the bar and she clears it every day.

Hospital is officially in fall mode. I rolled out the new menu this week: butternut squash soup, roasted root vegetable medley, a white bean and kale stew that I added because the administration wanted something trendy and I refuse to serve anything trendy that is not also delicious, and white beans with kale is both. I also kept the arroz con pollo because some things are non-negotiable and the cardiac floor patients specifically request it and I am not going to deny a man with a stent the comfort of rice and chicken. That is cruel. I am not cruel. I am the opposite of cruel. I am aggressively generous.

Sofía is settling into senior year. She has joined the science club, which meets on Tuesdays and involves looking at cells under microscopes, which I do not understand but support fully. She also signed up to volunteer at a free clinic on weekends, shadowing nurses. My daughter, shadowing nurses. The pride I feel is so large it has its own zip code. I told everyone at the hospital. I told Trish. I told the janitor. I told a patient who did not ask. The patient said, That is nice, and went back to his Jell-O. I do not care. I am telling everyone.

Made sofrito tonight. A big batch — two blenders full. Culantro, recao, aji dulce, garlic, onion, tomato. The base of everything. The DNA of Puerto Rican cooking. I froze it in ice cube trays the way Mami taught me, the way Abuela Consuelo taught Mami. Each cube is a meal starter, a promise of future dinners, a little green brick of love and tradition. The kitchen smelled like Bayamon while I blended, and I closed my eyes and I was home, just for a moment, in both kitchens at once — the one in Hartford and the one in my memory — and both of them were full of sofrito and both of them were full of love and I could not tell where one ended and the other began.

The night I made that big batch of sofrito, the freezer was full of little green cubes and the kitchen still smelled like culantro and garlic and home — and I was not about to let that energy go to waste. These chicken fajitas are exactly where sofrito belongs: sizzling in a hot pan, coating strips of seasoned chicken, filling the house with the kind of smell that tells everyone dinner is serious tonight. Mami would add a cube straight from the freezer and let it bloom in the oil before anything else went in, and I do the same. That is not a technique. That is inheritance.

Chicken Fajitas

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced into thin strips
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 2 tablespoons sofrito (homemade or store-bought)
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
• 1 large red bell pepper, seeded and sliced
• 1 large green bell pepper, seeded and sliced
• 1 large yellow onion, halved and sliced
• Juice of 1 lime
• 8 small flour or corn tortillas, warmed
• Optional toppings: sour cream, shredded cheese, avocado slices, fresh cilantro, salsa

Instructions

1. Marinate the chicken. In a large bowl, combine the chicken strips with sofrito, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, black pepper, and cayenne if using. Toss well to coat every piece. Let marinate at room temperature for at least 10 minutes, or cover and refrigerate for up to 4 hours for deeper flavor.
2. Cook the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large cast-iron skillet or heavy pan over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the chicken strips in a single layer — work in batches if needed so you get a sear, not a steam. Cook 3 to 4 minutes per side until cooked through and lightly charred on the edges. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
3. Cook the vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same pan. Add the sliced bell peppers and onion. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, for 6 to 8 minutes until softened and beginning to char at the edges. Season lightly with salt.
4. Combine and finish. Return the chicken to the pan with the vegetables. Squeeze the lime juice over everything and toss to combine. Cook together for 1 to 2 minutes so the flavors meld. Taste and adjust salt or lime as needed.
5. Warm the tortillas. Warm tortillas directly over a gas burner for 20 to 30 seconds per side, or wrap in a damp paper towel and microwave for 45 seconds until pliable.
6. Serve. Spoon the chicken and vegetable mixture onto warm tortillas. Add your toppings of choice and serve immediately while the filling is still sizzling.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 610mg