Yesterday I posted this photo of Hatch green chiles flame roasting in my backyard. A number of folks were VERY concerned about the chiles in the center, which are completely black. But those chiles look that way intentionally. Allow me to explain.
Some chiles have such a thick skin that they need to be peeled before being included in recipes. The larger chiles, like Anaheims (to which the “Hatch” chiles belong), sweet bell peppers, and poblanos, all require peeling, otherwise, their skins toughen during cooking and give an unpleasant texture to your dish. Smaller peppers like jalapenos, serranos and habaneros don’t need to be peeled, though they can be if you wish.
The traditional method is to “roast” them with direct heat, either on a grill, over a stovetop burner, or under the broiler, until the skin begins to blister. After enough time has passed, the skin develops some black patches, and the pepper’s flesh begins to cook. Then the peppers are enclosed in a bag and allowed to steam a bit, which further separates the skin from the flesh by cooking and softening the flesh. Then the skin is peeled off…it usually comes off in large sheets if properly blistered…and the pepper is cut open and the seeds scraped out. (The seeds and thin inner lining of the pepper contains the vast majority of the compound capsaicin, pronounced “cap-SAY-sin,” which is responsible for a chile’s spicy heat.)
There’s a problem with this method, though it’s been used for centuries. When the pepper’s flesh cooks, it exudes flavorful juices. When you are peeling the pepper, and again when you cut it open to seed it, handling the flesh causes those juices to spill out into the sink, all over your hands, and onto the cutting board. Meaning…flavor lost. Flavor that SHOULD be in your pot.
Several years ago, I discovered that roasting chiles over a screaming, flaming fire caused their skins to burn to a crisp, while their flesh is still nearly raw. Meaning…no lost juices. Plus, traditional blistering of the skin often leaves undercooked areas of skin that don’t come off when you peel them, and peeling off strips of wax-papery skin is tedious. When the skin is truly charred black, it crumbles off like dust when you run your hands down it as if you’re milking a cow, especially if the flesh is still firm rather than cooked. A few little black pieces may stick to the flesh beneath, but they’ve been so charred that they’ve lost all their toughness, and will simply add deep, smoky flavor to your dish.
So next time you have a big batch of chiles to peel, fire roast them over high flames, carefully turning them to make sure they are thoroughly burnt all over. This should happen in no longer than 2 minutes, often far less, depending on the temperature of your fire. Use wood, not charcoal. Small pieces, like fallen sticks from your tree, will light quickly and burn hot, and you won’t waste any wood, because the roasting happens so quickly. Remove the hot peppers to a big plastic bag or a covered pot for a few minutes. Then carefully spread them out on a table to cool. They will peel instantly, but the flesh will still be firm, so you can cut it open and scrape out the seeds without worrying about losing all your flavor!
When peeling hot chiles, it’s a good idea to wear rubber gloves, as the waxy capsaicin buries itself in your skin and can burn for hours after. (And that burn can spread to your eyes if you rub them, or other uncomfortable places after a trip to the bathroom!) Capsaicin is alcohol soluble, so if your hands are burning after peeling chiles, wash them vigorously with rubbing alcohol or hand sanitizer, which will hurt extra bad because of the sensitivity. Dry them vigorously with a towel, because mechanical friction will also help remove the waxy compounds.
While we’re on the subject of Hatch chiles, a little education may be in order, as these delights seem to only be widely known in the states surrounding New Mexico. Hatch isn’t a variety of chile. It’s a town in south-central New Mexico that has a unique climate for raising chile peppers. A number of Anaheim-related varieties (NM 6-4, Big Jim, Sandia, and Lumbre are the most common, listed in order from mildest to hottest) grow particularly well in the sandy soil, but Hatch’s intense sun (averaging 360 days a year) and daytime heat give the chile plants a growth spurt, but chilly nights slow down the pepper development. This alternating hot-cold-hot-cold repetition slows and extends the growing cycle and results in a pepper with thick flesh and intense, consistent flavor from year to year.
The secret is getting out, and Hatch chiles are being shipped to gourmet markets in far-flung San Francisco, Chicago, and New York. Some local companies roast and freeze the peppers for shipment around the world all year long, like this website. One company cans them and you can buy them at many supermarkets in the Mexican ingredients section, however, frozen is preferred to canned.
Hatch chiles are seasonal…they start showing up fresh in grocery stores in late August or early September, with the bulk of the supply peaking in mid to late September. By early October, they’re gone until next year. So if you run across a box of Hatch chiles in your supermarket, buy them all and roast and freeze them to use throughout the year. I normally buy 20-30 pounds a year.
Hatch chiles can be used in ANY recipe that prominently features sweet or hot chile peppers. Chiles Rellenos (whole peppers stuffed with cheese and/or meat, then breaded and fried, or oven roasted) are a classic choice. But my favorite way to eat it is in Green Chile Stew, patterned after New Mexico’s version of pork chili verde. My recipe isn’t quick or easy, but it’s delicious. I make several gallons of it, and now that word has got out, I rarely have any left to freeze, but it does freeze beautifully for future use.
It’s early January, the dead of winter, and the warmth of summer seems an eternity away. It’s in times like these that I like to fantasize about my favorite seasonal fruits and veggies which are at their best in the warm months, to help get me through the current famine…
If you happened to live in France or Switzerland or Germany at this particular time of month, and you went to the supermarket, you’d find potatoes, rutabagas, broccoli and cabbages, turnips, and other root veggies that store well or that grow in the cold season…and that’s about it. You certainly wouldn’t find any fresh fruit. You might find some hot-house grown tomatoes, which would be expensive and tasteless. And you can bet that the good people of Europe are EAGERLY awaiting the growing season so they can taste fresh fruits and veggies again. And you can bet that the first time they bite into a ripe, juicy tomato or a plump peach…a shiver runs down their spine and they SAVOR it.
But it’s not the biggest shame about tomatoes. The biggest shame is that, even in the peak of summer, when local tomatoes are falling off the vine, the tomatoes in your grocery store are still coming all the way from the central valleys of California, where a couple of tasteless varieties of tomato have been commercially bred to produce thick-walled, juiceless, “tough” tomatoes that will last for the thousands of miles on a truck before they get delivered. They are still picked green for the transit, gassed with ethylene when they get to the local distribution center, and then begin to artificially ripen as they are sent to your store. This means the taste and texture of the tomato are completely unnatural. (And they wouldn’t be much better if they were allowed to ripen on the vine…these few varieties of commercial tomatoes have been so selectively bred for “transport and shelf life” that they have no taste anyway.)
Then comes the problem of salads…because you certainly don’t want to use a canned tomato in your salads. In that case, plum or cherry tomatoes are often your best bet in terms of sugar content. They are generally more expensive than a slicing tomato, but the taste is infinitely better. In the winter, I just don’t put tomatoes in salad. There are a host of other yummies to go in salad which generally don’t have to be shipped from Peru or Chile, like radishes and carrots and beets. Many root veggies and most of the cabbage family (including cauliflower, broccoli, kale, and Brussels Sprouts) can be grown in the US during the winter, or they are of such a variety that they will keep for months after harvest.
Which means there are thousands…if not TENS OF THOUSANDS…of varieties of heirloom tomato. And with the recent surge in urban gardening, there is increased interest in growing and preserving these types of tomatoes, which have thin skin, explosive flavor, loads of juice, firm meaty texture, and come in a ridiculous array of sizes, shapes, and colors, from the tiniest of tomatoes the size of juniper berries, to fat tomatoes that approach a few pounds each, from cherry red to purple to green to white to yellow to black to zebra stripes.
In the middle 1500s, the tomato was discovered by Westerners and brought to Europe. It was still yellow at that time, and through the heirloom process, hundreds of strains developed over time as the tomato adapted to unique growing conditions over generations. Eventually it re-reached the Americas in more modern times, and in 500 short years, we have thousands of varieties of what once was a poisonous plant that only grew in the Andes mountains.
A lot of people don’t know that when you store a tomato in the fridge, it loses its taste and texture…permanently. (Another reason commercial tomatoes, which are shipped in refrigerated trucks, are no good.) Enzymes that naturally exist in the tomato, which trigger the ripening process which develops flavor, are deactivated by cold temperatures. So the tomato stops naturally ripening the instant it gets cold. The enzymes, instead of breaking down sugars inside the tomato into complex flavor and aroma compounds, break down themselves. As they do, the cell walls of the tomato become weak and lose the moisture locked inside, so the tomato becomes mealy and mushy in texture, rather than firm and juicy. You can bet that ANY store-bought tomato was refrigerated at some point, whether or not it’s in the refrigerator shelf at the store. But if your local produce manager puts his tomatoes in the cold area, he is out of his mind and you should tell him that! Likewise, never put a tomato in the fridge at home. Leave it on your countertop. If it starts to get overripe, cut off any dark, soft spots and eat the rest immediately as a snack. Or add it to a soup or casserole or sauce.
And if you’re one of those unlucky folks who have never had the pleasure of picking a tomato right off the vine and popping it into your mouth, you are missing one of life’s great pleasures. While many varieties of tomato can be very tricky to raise, there are several delicious types of cherry tomato that are easily raised in a pot on your porch, even if you live in an apartment, which will give you fresh tomatoes for several months in the late spring and early summer…and if you plant them again, another several months in the fall. Your local nursery is not necessarily the best source for quality heirloom tomato plants or seeds. Luckily, there is a nonprofit organization called Seed Savers Exchange dedicated to the preservation of heirloom vegetables, and through the cooperation of hundreds of family gardeners and farmers, you can order seeds or plants from them. They literally have thousands of varieties to choose from. And if you are an avid gardener and aren’t yet a member of the Exchange, I’d encourage you to join. They are doing incredible work preserving the diversity of our vegetables, while the commercial farm industry is doing its best to eradicate all but the “shelf life” varieties that produce heavily, transport well, and have absolutely no taste.
Visit Seed Savers Exchange at 