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Hot,
hot, hot It hits you like a tropical fever. Waves of dampness bead your brow, your heart races, your lips tingle and glow. A little like love, a little like sex — and there are some who claim it is better than both — what you have here is the authentic slow burn of the chili pepper. And a powerful burn it can be. Capsaicin, a chemical in the pepper, can be so irritating to your skin that it feels like an honest-to-god fire in your mouth (or any other body part you should haplessly touch with scorching, capsaicin-tainted hands.) It makes good sense from the pepper's point of view — most animals leave it alone; only birds, who are unaffected by the chemical, eat up the spicy pods, distributing the seeds far and wide. Chalk up another triumph for wily evolution. That's nature's plan, anyway, and mostly animals do leave the chili pepper alone. There are some contrarian creatures, however, who call its evolutionary bluff and happily eat their fill — noses running, eyes streaming and mouths afire. What's up with that? Are they gluttons for punishment? Masochists? Just not too terribly bright? Circle "none of the above." Hard-core chili-fanciers (known to each other as Chili Heads) are after the buzz. The pain induced by the capsaicin triggers the body's own painkillers, those same morphinelike endorphins that kick in after a hard run, producing the greatly-prized runner's high. The euphoria brought on by an encounter with a bowl of fiery salsa can be just as pleasurable as the aftermath of a marathon, with only a fraction of the physical effort involved. Besides, as any Chili Head will tell you, chilis aren't just hot. In addition to, in spite of, or because of the burn (depending on whom you talk to), there is the flavor, a surprising range of flavor to hear them tell it. Just as oenophiles have developed an extravagant vocabulary all their own — finding their wine earthy, jammy, muscular, floral, oaky, with just a hint of asphalt — chili lovers too reach for unlikely adjectives. Perhaps the chilis are smoky or licoricey, maybe a little raisiny, or just touched with apricot. At any rate, to a true devotee, they are beyond delicious. I know all this because I recently visited the lush gardens of Bloomington's own Chili-Head-in-Chief, the person known to Bloomington Farmer's Market-goers and mail-order aficionados nation-wide as the Chiliwoman. Although for years I have only heard her referred to (even by herself) as the Chiliwoman, it turns out she actually has a name. Susan Welsand was happy to give me a tour and undertake my chile education. If you go to the farmers' market, you've surely seen Welsand. She has long, dark, wavy hair and she is the only one at market wearing clothes adorned with chile peppers. You'll find her standing in front of her red Chile Wagon, which is also adorned with peppers — spiky red ristras, potted plants with glowing fruits hanging heavy in their leaves like tiny Christmas ornaments, and baskets filled with peppers of all sizes, shapes and hotness levels. Welsand has been at this chile business since the mid-1980s. Having grown up in a meat-and-potatoes household, she was fascinated with the exotic possibilities that chile growing offered. Frustrated with the lack of choice in plants available locally, she started growing from seeds herself. Today Welsand grows about 1,100 varieties — trading seeds with growers around the world to help preserve endangered varieties, and shipping her own plants around the country. She is always eager to pick up new types to grow (and she takes requests) but she can't bear to give up the ones she's tried and loved (that would be all of them, to date) so the list keeps getting longer and longer. Welsand has been bringing her plants and chiles to the farmers' market for many years. Ten years ago she began a mail-order business that has exploded with the internet. (Her Web site is — guess what — www.chilewoman.com.) She ships to every state except Hawaii, and to both Canada and Mexico, filing endless forms to meet the requirements for organic farming and interstate shipping. The downside to the business is that, the more successful it becomes, the more paperwork there is to do and the less time Welsand has to spend in the garden. Because her greatest pleasure is opening the greenhouse doors to see the endless rows of green plants and breathing the great earthy smell, heady with the spicy aroma of the chiles, it's not surprising that she is consciously keeping her business the size that it is now, at about 30,000 plants. With a degree in journalism and art history, she has had plenty of opportunity to take a desk job and she's turned it down. This is the life that she really loves. And Welsand is clearly not alone in the chile-loving life. A whole subculture of Chile Heads convenes from around the world, camping, roasting peppers and hosting "hotlucks" with chile cookery, chile wine and even chile beer. I am thinking that chile wine and beer are probably a touch too esoteric for a Herald-Times food column, but I ask Welsand for a recipe I can print. She's stymied, since she doesn't cook with recipes; rather, she just assembles the things that look good in her garden on any particular day, such as the sushi she made recently from chanterelle mushrooms, tomatoes, roasted chiles and wasabi goat cheese. Mostly, she makes salsa, with lots of herbs from her garden, especially citrusy ones such as lime basil. But since I insist on a recipe, she lends me some books and I am charmed by one called Sweet Heat, full of desserts such as Apricot-Habanero Mousse and Pumpkin Pie with a Kiss of Cayenne. I opt for Chocolate Red-Chile Zucchini Cake. As the Mexicans know, chocolate and chiles are a magic combination. Sweet heat, a little like love, a little like sex. Maybe not better, but right up there, without a doubt. Pico de Gallo with the Chiliwoman Touch2 cups diced ripe tomatoes 1/2 cup chopped white onion 3 Serrano chilies (these are traditional here, but you can use other chilis to taste) Juice of 1 or 2 limes, to taste 1/4 cup chopped cilantro 1/4 cup chopped basil Salt and pepper to taste Pico de Gallo (meaning beak of the rooster) is a fiery hot fresh salsa made from tomato, chilies and cilantro. Since I couldn't pin her down to a recipe, I just chiliwomanized this one by adding lots of basil to the traditional mix. Susan Welsand uses basil instead of cilantro; I just used both. Also, Welsand never adds salt. She likes to mix colors as well as flavors, using different colored tomatoes, different colors and flavors of sweet peppers, red onions, chilies such as chilhuacle or pasilla for color and flavor, and other unique chile flavors such as the ajis. Add other fresh herbs, too, as the spirit moves you. As you can see, salsa-making is not an exact science. Be sure all ingredients are chopped finely. You can do
this in the food processor, but if you want this to be chunky, it's best to do
it by hand. Add more chilies and herbs as your taste dictates. Eat this salsa
on chips, or with grilled steak or fish. Chocolate-Red Chili Zucchini Cake 2 1/2 cups sifted flour 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup butter 1/2 cup vegetable oil 1 3/4 cups granulated sugar 2 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 tablespoon New Mexican red chile powder 1/2 cup buttermilk 2 cups grated zucchini 6 ounces semisweet chocolate chips 3/4 cups chopped walnuts Don't be put off by the unusual ingredients; this cake is delicious, especially served with some whipped cream or ice cream. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease a 9- by 13- by 2-inch pan. Sift together flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt in a large mixing bowl. Set aside. In a separate bowl, mix cream butter, vegetable oil and sugar, beating until mixture is light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Add the vanilla and chile powder. Mix in the dry ingredients, alternating with the buttermilk. Stir in the zucchini. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle the top of the cake with chocolate chips and walnuts. Bake for about 55 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cook cake in the pan on a wire rack. Serves 12. From Sweet Heat, by Melissa Stock and Dave De Witt
(Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 1996). |
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