Hatch Chile Fever

I’m a Poblano and Serrano girl myself, but the Hatch chile has an amazing number of aficionados out here. Not sure why.  I mean, the Hatch is OK, if you need a mild and somewhat neutral, or at least very understated, chile flavor. It is similar to, although somewhat meatier and richer than, the widely available Anaheim, a close relative to the Hatch. Much of its popularity may be that it is, in fact, a mild chile, with a Scoville rating for the traditional variety around 1000 or even lower (a Serrano is 10-15 times hotter). This makes it palatable both to a lot of sensitivities to “hot,” and easy to incorporate into a wide range of dishes without making a particular statement. But really, I think its popularity is a lot about it being “local.” Hatch chiles hail from the area in and around Hatch, New Mexico, and their brief season from late August until a week or two ago makes them special to those who live within striking (or fast direct shipping) distance. Similar varieties are grown in Texas and other southwestern states.

I did not get into the genuine frenzy that is Hatch season, but as it waned, I did feel as if perhaps I was wanting in local spirit if I didn’t buy any and show a little enthusiasm. So I bought the very last bag of roasted hatch chiles—the very last of the season, it turned out—from the chile roasters at the farmer’s market. As I paid for them, I was told that I had gotten the last ones, and there would be no more until next year. I tried to exhibit a suitable combination of gratitude and regret, but was secretly more pleased that I had also picked up the last bag of roasted roma tomatoes.

Many people use Hatch chiles to make chiles rellenos, but I neither like their shape for that—too long and skinny—nor their flavor (remember: only Poblano for chile rellenos!). At the farmer’s market I had also bought a gigantic bag of freshly made tortilla chips, so decided to use my tomatoes and chiles to make a super-quick, rustic salsa. All the roasting work had been done, so it took about 3 minutes including the peeling and deseeding. Feel free, as I did, to add a little heat with a hotter chile of your choice in the privacy of your own home; it will retain the round smoothness of the Hatch while satisfying your conception of “chile.”

Hatch Chile Salsa

1 lb roasted Hatch chiles

1 lb roasted Roma or other tomatoes

2 tea, generous, salt

3 whole peeled cloves garlic

1 small Serrano chile, minced (optional) or even a little hot sauce of your choice

Chopped coriander for garnish (optional)

Rub the skin from the chiles and gently pull away the stem and seed pod; rinse out. Pull the skin from the tomatoes, but leave a little; I like some charred skin in a rustic salsa. Put all the ingredients except the Serrano into the food processor. Process for about 45 seconds until it is a kind of thick, slightly chunky puree that resembles a fine relish. For a little heat, stir in some Serrano or hot sauce to taste. Serve with chips, to garnish meats, or stir into soups, stews, eggs, or other dishes for a little Southwest flavor. This freezes well.

Leaving (Left) Nashvegas: Pushing further South(west)

 

I meant to send this a month ago. It’s news, capital N. It’s an explanation for all those endless drawing-down-inventory posts about cleaning out my freezer. And it is, quite possibly, motivation to get back to my blog.

I’ve left Vanderbilt, which means I’ve left Nashville (a little ‘Hurrah!’ is not out of place). Before I left I was going to blog a list of the top 10 things I won’t miss, but I couldn’t narrow it down. Besides, this is a food blog. So I decided to make a list of the top food things I would miss. This too proved really, really hard—in part related to what I won’t miss. I came up with one, maybe two things. Not exactly a list. So I’ll just tell you about the leaving part.

Leaving was fun. I had a great last semester of teaching, thanks to my uniformly wonderful students and my few sane and supportive friends. Lots of feting, drinks, dinners from both. As typical, there was food for my last classes. And as typical, I forgot to take photos, because I wasn’t specifically cooking for the blog. Fortunately, in my graduate ethics class, a few students snapped these photos with their phones. We had quite a spread, with many contributions from students. I  made cold sesame noodles, summer rolls, Asian-style pickles, and orange-scented date bars with the gorgeous medjool dates I use for date-nut bread. Students brought everything from beer cheese and pretzels to sweet rice rolls, sushi, pasta, veggies and dip, and desserts—brownies, cookies, peanut butter bars, pineapple “casserole,” a kind of crumble. We fixed ourselves plates before sitting down to watch an ethics movie, The Insider, about a whistleblower (Russell Crowe) and the journalist who works with him to reveal his story (Al Pacino). For another class, I made a lemon meringue pie and a yellow 3-layer cake with buttercream fillng and a ganache frosting. Forgot to take a picture of the cake. But really good. 

Leaving implies arriving somewhere; that was fun, too. I’ve moved to Tucson to join the University of Arizona faculty. Can I tell you how happy I was to see a chile roaster at the farmer’s market selling entire bags of fresh, warm-from-the-roaster bags of roasted and peeled poblanos and red peppers, maybe 8 to a bag, for $5.00? So many locally made tortillas, including these mesquite flour tortillas? The amazing El Super, where everything “cuesta menos”?

More about all that later, because now for the really good news…for me, but also, hopefully, for you:

I’m in Little Compton!

                                                 

The ‘Tween Months II: Chiles Rellenos

I don’t want to bore you with the joys of the season of anticipation, but really, another word about eggs is in order. You know, eggs, spring, rebirth, etc., etc. Besides, I love them. They are, quite simply, the perfect food, the indispensable protein, leavener, and liquid in your kitchen.

So it’s shocking how badly cooked they always are. I swear, you cannot get a decently cooked egg outside of a five-star hotel with a French chef (and then, it’s a gamble) or that disappearing diner with that near-extinct breed, the gen-u-ine short-order cook who can cook your burger medium-rare, thank you very much, or your scrambleds moist and not a single bit of brown! Since this requires demonstration and practice, no directions here (maybe a video in the future. . .).

But I digress. The subject is eggs in the ‘tween season—those months between winter thaw and the first local produce of the year—, and I feel compelled to share one of my prized recipes for eggs (despite knowing that prized recipes are precisely the ones others don’t share, or leave ingredients out of, including many of my so-called “friends”—you know who you are). And this is a true ‘tween recipe in that it uses the new (eggs) with an inventory draw-down item from last summer, my frozen tomatoes.

The recipe, like all good recipes and food things, has a little story. When I was in my 20s—yes, I was really that old (young?) once—I lived for several years on the Monterey Peninsula in California, and worked halfway between the coast and the Salinas Valley, one of California’s great agricultural areas and, therefore, one of its great Mexican immigrant communities. There was a place in Salinas where we used to go for lunch called Rosita’s Armory Café that had huge and wonderful combination plates for $1.99 that included really, really good chiles rellenos. Turned out, my friend and roommate, Lyle, had grown up in New Mexico with a Mexican cook who made some that were very similar. Lyle knew how to make them, and she taught me. I have taken that basic recipe, fooled with it a bit, and combined it with an authentic Mexican tomato broth, not typically found in even good Mexican restaurants in the United States.

My Chiles Rellenos in Spiced Tomato Broth

This dish makes a wonderful supper for family or friends or for you alone. Like all true Mexican food, it is beautiful to look at and cries out for a party. You can make the sauce and prepare the chiles the day before if you want, and the finished chiles rellenos can be held quite nicely for half an hour in the oven without compromise (it took me 20 years to discover this, so I’ll just save you some time. . .), making this a reasonable choice for entertaining. Apologies to Anne, who begged me not to post this recipe because it was too unique. But when it comes to food, I share.

The chiles

1 roasted, peeled, and seeded fresh poblano pepper per person
1 large brown RI egg, separated, per person, and 1 for the bowl
2 or 3 slices queso blanco or good-quality California Monterey Jack cheese, about 1/8” thick x 3” long (mozzarella, goat, or Philadelphia brand brick cream cheese can be used too) per chile
1 1/2 tea flour for each egg (when making a large quantity, you can cut this down)
salt-big pinch per egg

lard for frying (no substitutes please! You may as well eat at Taco Bell! Long article on the virtues and necessities of lard for everything to come in future editions!)

To roast the peppers, place them whole a few inches from a hot broiler or on the grill, turning occasionally, until blistered all over; they should char somewhat but be careful not to burn or they will be ruined (“toast,” I almost said). If you are just doing one or two, your toaster oven works fine. Place in a plastic bag to steam for a while, and when cool enough to handle, rinse the skin off under running water. Gently pull on the stem to remove, hopefully bringing most of the seeds with it. Remove any others by rinsing under running water, and pull away any big fleshy veins. Try really hard not to tear them. Dry between layers of paper towels. When dry, insert a few pieces of cheese into the opening; if pepper is torn, try to fold the pepper edges over each other. Cover and set aside.

Mix the egg yolks with the flour and salt; it will be pasty. In a separate bowl, beat the whites until they form soft peaks: keep them moist and dry/don’t let them break. Fold into the egg yolk mixture in two or three batches, keeping a light touch. Once you’ve done this, you should cook the chiles or the batter will separate and become watery.

In a large frying pan, melt enough lard over medium heat to give you about 1/8” inch of fat (chiles rellenos are not to be deep-fried, ever); Goya or Armour brand is fine if you don’t have a farm source. With a large spoon, drop and spread an oval of batter into the pan, making them large enough to form a “bed” for your chiles, according to their size. Place a chile on top of each oval, and cook over medium heat until golden brown on the bottom and the base is partly dried. Top each chile with more batter and, with supreme confidence, flip them neatly, adding a little more lard to the pan if necessary and corralling any batter that threatens to run away. Don’t worry about them merging together or having imperfect shapes; just sever them at the seam with the spatula as needed and enjoy the informal character of the dish. Sometimes I tip them on their sides to cook them a bit more evenly.

When the chiles rellenos are evenly golden, remove them and place them in a large, shallow serving dish, such as a gratin or Italian pasta dish, filled about half-way with the spicy broth. Serve the chiles over rice, and spoon broth over all.

The broth

This should be thin without being watery, a broth with body and texture, not a sauce. You want it to be absorbed a little into the chiles rellenos and the rice.

1 medium-small sweet onion, such as Vidalia, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped fine
2 T lard
5 or 6 whole frozen tomatoes, defrosted (in summer, of course, use fresh), or 1 28-oz can Italian plum tomatoes
6 whole cloves
8 whole peppercorns
1 bay leaf
4” piece cinnamon , broken in three
¼ tea dried thyme
2-3 cups pork, ham, or light chicken stock (see Note)

Briefly whiz the tomatoes in the food processor and set aside.

Melt lard and sauté onion and garlic quickly over medium-high heat. Throw in the spices and herbs and stir for a minute or two. Pour the tomato into onion-garlic mixture, blending well, and cook for a minute. Add 2 c. broth, reduce heat, and simmer the mixture for 20 minutes or so to meld the flavors; add more broth or water to as needed to achieve a consistency that is thin and brothy but has a some body to it. I like to leave the whole spices in, for both the rustic look and the flavor. If stored overnight, it may be necessary to thin it again.

NOTE: If you do not have homemade stock, Goya’s Sazon brand ham bouillon powder works quite well; use 1 small packet only, as it’s strong; add additional water to thin.

Red Poblanos: The Perfect Heat

It’s late fall, when the end of the growing season often brings some nice surprises, especially after a disappointing summer of rain and sorry produce. One discovery a few weeks ago was these beautiful red poblanos, brilliant and shiny. Poblanos are already a favorite of mine, in frequent use around my house for a staple in my house, chiles rellenos (recipe to come, I promise), or for making one of my favorite burgers or this simple first course of cornmeal-dusted sautéed peppers.

The red poblano is both a little sweeter and a little hotter than the green, which among all the chiles is relatively mild. It retains a distinctive poblano taste, however, and was satisfying and very pretty for chiles rellenos. Once roasted, however, they looked so much like any other roasted red pepper that I began thinking about what else to do with them.

As many of you know, I spend the academic year in Nashville. The South is a generation behind; this is not a criticism, just a fact. What is available here, and what people like, is reminiscent of the East Coast in the early 1960s. One of those things that people like is pimiento cheese. Now, we didn’t have that growing up, but we did have various kinds of cheese spreads, like WisPride®. Pimento cheese is a little bit like that, and everybody here just loves it. They sell it in the supermarkets—which are, regrettably, like ours were 30 years ago—in big tubs. Of course you don’t want that. But a homemade pimento cheese can be a very nice, even addictive, thing.

When friends from Rhode Island were visiting last month, I made some pimento cheese and some roasted pecans to give them a taste of the South. My girlfriend said, with a note of horror and shock that I would serve such a thing, “it looks like CheezWhiz®.”I told her it was good and, out of politeness or hunger, she tried it. She ate it right up.

Anyway, I used some of these peppers to make a batch of pimento cheese. Their natural heat negated the need for Tabasco and cayenne, standard ingredient when using regular roasted peppers. I can be quite content eating pimento cheese and crackers, accompanied by a cold beer, for my dinner when I get back late from teaching an evening class. A little Southern comfort, far from home.

Poblano Pimento Cheese

Pimento cheese is a subject of fierce debate in the South, like jonnycakes (thick or thin?) or chowder in Rhode Island. Serve only with 60s-era crackers: Ritz™, or my personal favorite, Club™. Or in celery, also very 60s. Southerners eat pimento cheese sandwiches, on white bread. Makes about 1 ½ cups.

Since red ripe poblanos may be difficult to find, I provide alternate instructions for using roasted red bell peppers. This is a loose interpretation of a recipe from a nice Southern cookbook, Martha Hall Foose’s Screen Doors and Sweet Tea. You may be tempted to use a food processor. Don’t.

8 oz. very sharp yellow cheddar
1/3 cup, scant, mayonnaise (Hellman’s or homemade)
1 ½ medium red ripe poblanos, roasted and peeled (or 2-3 oz. jarred or home-prepared roasted peppers/pimientos)
½ tea dry mustard
¼ tea dried sage
½ tea Worcestershire sauce
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

If using regular peppers, also add:

1/8 tea ground cayenne pepper
Tabasco to taste

In a small bowl, mix the mayo, mustard, sage, Worcestershire and, if using standard peppers, the cayenne. Grate the cheese on the largest holes of a box grater and add, mixing.

Using the tines of a good fork, mash the peppers on a board until they are a small, dicey mush. Add them to the cheese/mayo mixture and whisk around with the fork. Season with salt, pepper (and if needed, Tabasco) to taste. Cover and refrigerate for a few hours to let the flavors meld. Take out about 10 minutes before serving.

      

Poblanos: Chile Charmer

   

There are absolutely gorgeous poblano peppers available now: just the right size—about 4” long and 3” wide at the shoulder--, perfectly conical or heart-shaped, glossy dark green-black. You might not go out looking for them, but they will charm their way into your shopping basket anyway, they are just so fresh-faced and spotless.

And you know that their beauty is more than skin-deep; there’s real substance there. Poblanos are meaty and rich-tasting with a mild-to-moderate flavorful, never raw or grating, heat. They have a medium-thick wall that holds up well when grilled, stuffed, or fried, but that allows them to be at home in gentler preparations, like stir-fries and soups. While I love the small, hotter Serrano for seasoning, the poblano is my idea of the perfect all-around chile pepper. It also is the source of my favorite (and again, the most versatile) dried chile, the ancho, an essential for earthy sauces.

To prepare poblanos, broil or grill them, taking care that they don’t burn, until the skins are lightly charred and blistered all over; I use my toaster oven when doing just a few. Put them in a plastic bag or towel to steam for a few minutes, then pull and rub off the skins, and gently pull out the stem and attached seeds; it can be helpful to do this under running water, and to let the water flow into the chile to remove any escaped seeds. Pat hem dry or set them to drain between paper towels, and then they are ready to use. One of my favorite supper dishes is chiles rellenos, so I tend to make them over and over—and will share my recipe soon. I have already told you about the divine chile-relleno burger. And I often make corn soup with rajas de chile poblano (strips of poblano). But in a pinch I just lightly dust them with cornmeal, fill them with a little cheese, and sauté and serve them with an uncooked fruity and creamy sauce that sets off the heat. It makes a quick appetizer.

Poblanos with Pineapple Cream

Use white or yellow cornmeal; I use my jonnycake meal. Serves 4.

4 medium perfect poblano chiles, skins and seeds removed
2 oz firm mozzarella or soft goat cheese 
1 large egg
1 tea water
1 tea corn oil
pinch salt
cornmeal
2 T unsalted butter
1 T corn oil

¼ buttermilk
¼ cup light cream or half and half
½ cup fresh ripe pineapple

finely chopped cilantro or parsley

Divide the cheese into 4 portions and insert gently into the chiles. Spread a cup or so of cornmeal on a board or sheet of wax paper. In a shallow dish, beat the egg with the water, oil, and salt. Dip the chiles into the egg mixture, turning, and then coat them with cornmeal. Set aside to dry a little.

In a blender, combine the pineapple, buttermilk, and cream or half and half. Puree till smooth; strain if you wish (I don’t), and refrigerate until needed.

Melt the butter with the oil in a 9” sauté pan. Cook the chiles two at a time, turning once, over medium-high heat until golden and the cheese has melted (keep the first batch warm in a 250 F oven while you cook the second). Serve hot with a little of the cold sauce and some chopped fresh coriander or parsley.