Plump jalapeno peppers are rated at 2,500 to 8,000 on the Scoville scale--hot,
but not blistering. When they ripen, they turn red and are used to make chipotles.
No, this is not about chile peppers misbehaving on spring break in Cancun. Or exposing their nether regions from the backseat of a stretch limo on Hollywood Boulevard…
This is about jalapenos in the garden, so rambunctious that every time I even peek at our four thriving bushes, there is a new crop of pendulous green and red firebombs screaming “Pick me! Pick me!” Just a few days ago I had collected 62 of them in a bowl—and there were another 17 on the stem.
I adore jalapenos. They peg in at 2,500 to 8,000 on the Scoville scale, pretty low on the heat index—but while their flesh often tastes like a cross between red and green Bell pepper with a trace of burn, their seeds can be hot as smoldering coals. This means you can control the degree of heat by removing some or all of those innocent-looking white seeds—or none at all, if you crave a real incendiary rush.
Last year in Xalapa, the state capital of Veracruz and home of the jalapeno, I trudged up a very steep hill to the covered Mercado Jauregui. Here, alongside dark sweet mole de Xico and strange bundles of magical herbs, vendors were hawking gigantic fresh jalapeno peppers, some as big as a small banana. The air was filled with cries of, “Una docena para rellenar!” (“A dozen to stuff!”). Around the corner I found tubs of smaller jalapenos pickled in homemade escabeche, a vinegary herb-spiked sauce with carrots and onions. I took some chiles back to my hotel where I ate them with alternate bites of fresh quesito de cabra, a rich, salty goat cheese. The mingled flavors of the tangy hot peppers and the creamy, crumbly cheese was pure bliss.
My own jalapenos are more modestly sized. I usually pick them when they are about two inches long. This gives them enough time for the flavor and heat to mature, but keeps them a manageable size for cooking. The burn, by the way, comes from capsaicin, a fiery compound found in all chile peppers that irritates the mucus membranes of humans and other predators.
Last Sunday I had a jalapeno blow out in the kitchen. A big pile of peppers, around six or seven dozen, were subjected to serious culinary abuse—they were chopped, roasted, slit, mashed, seeded, pureed and pickled. Half way through the party, there was bellowing from upstairs. “What on earth are you doing,” asked Bill, usually very tolerant of my culinary experiments, but sounding a little testy. “My eyes are watering.” Later, the air was “perfumed’ with vinegar. Note to self: Next time, use the exhaust fan and close the kitchen door.
Here’s what went on:
1. First I decided to roast two dozen jalapenos. This brings out the sweetness of the peppers and gives them a deliciously smoky flavor. The best way to roast chiles is to use an earthenware comal, a flat high-fired pottery plate that can sit right over the lowest flame of your stove. Quite naturally, I discovered that the comal I had lovingly carried back from Oaxaca a few years ago was cracked right down the middle. So instead I roasted the jalapenos in a dry cast iron skillet until they were blackened and blistered all over. I left some whole and slit the others, removing most of the seeds. I put both in small containers and covered them with olive oil to use as a delicious condiment with fried eggs, grilled steak or rolled up in warm corn tortillas slathered with butter and slices of ripe red tomatoes.
At this point you might be wondering how to remove the seeds from the jalapenos without turning your fingertips into red hot pokers. The truth is I never ever use rubber gloves: Cookbooks that recommend this are written by clueless people who know nothing at all about handling chiles. (They are related to the same people who fret about children falling off the monkey bars in the playground and the ones who sue McDonalds for serving coffee that is too hot.) Life is full of risk and you might as well get into it.
But of course, you do know that you shouldn’t touch your face or your eyes while your fingers are covered with capsaicin—don’t you? The best way to neutralize all that hot stuff, when you’re done, is to cut a lemon in half and douse it with salt. Work your fingers down into the lemon, getting them really juicy and salty. Do this for a minute or two, then rinse them off. This will remove most of the burn—I still wouldn’t rub my eyes—and the rest will come off in the normal course of washing and rinsing at the sink.
Back to the jalapeno project:
2. Next I decided to make a roasted salsa, similar to a luscious one served at La Fogata in San Antonio. Everything in this salsa is roasted: onions, tomatoes, jalapenos, and garlic—and then chopped in the food processor until all the ingredients are blended but not smooth. Add a little salt and a squeeze of lime, and you have one of the most superb salsas ever made. It is especially good now when tomatoes are full of flavor and so abundant that you are probably trying to think up new ways to use them up. This charred. hot, mildly sweet salsa is delicious with everything—eggs, grilled meats, fish and chicken, and left over cooked vegetables like eggplant and zucchini. A dollop will bring any soup to life, even a chilled gazpacho.
3. Speaking of chilled, at this point I was ready to cool off. What could be more refreshing on a torrid day in a chile-flavored kitchen than a spicy Indian style lassi or cold yogurt drink spiked with a single fresh jalapeno? I frothed a cup of plain tangy yogurt with ice cubes in the blender, added a jalapeno—some seeds removed—and whirred until the mixture was icy and smooth Over the top I sprinkled a little salt and some ground cumin. It was a little spicy and completely delicious.
4. I saved the most ambitious stage for last: pickling the jalapenos. I made three different kinds: First, a traditional Mexican-style pickle in escabeche--sautéed chiles, onions and carrots simmered in vinegar and salt with fresh oregano, marjoram and thyme. Next, I tried a fresh Indian pickle with cauliflower, string beans and jalapenos tossed in vinegar and sugar with abundant spices like fenugreek, cumin, pepper, cinnamon and ginger. And last, I concocted a rather restrained French-inflected pickle in which the jalapenos were doused with hot white wine vinegar, and packed in small jars with sprigs of tarragon, peppercorns and allspice. The first time around I added sel de guerande to the vinegar. Big mistake: all the sediment that makes the salt grey turned the mixture cloudy. I had to dump out the liquid and remake it with plain white kosher salt. (How did they turn out? I'll know in two weeks.)
The smells in the kitchen were good and vinegary by the time I finished and even my own eyes were watering. The dog, normally underfoot, had fled to a friendlier environment. But I had a refrigerator full of jalapenos in various guises that would spice up weeks of late summer meals.
Now, what to do with the 26 jalapenos that absolutely have to be picked tomorrow?
I'll post recipes tomorrow.