Welcome to Southern New Mexico! You have ventured upon the hottest spot in the U.S.A. I’m not talkin’ solar heat. I’m talkin’ chile fire.

Chile peppers are the Land of Enchanters’ mysterious and highly addictive vegetable that may cause brows to sweat, noses to run, eyes to tear, and alas, guttural hiccups upon overdose. It’s a painfully pleasant experience we welcome many times daily.

Not only do we devour the hot little number but we chile chat ceaselessly. The noble chile plant has played a passionate role in New Mexico’s culture and cuisine since the early 1600s when the Spanish first planted along the fertile Rio Grande valley. Hundreds of years later, the powerfully pungent pod remains dear to New Mexicans. Although chile is now grown worldwide, New Mexicans self-assuredly declare “our pods are peerless.”

When I arrived from native Michigan to this chile kingdom a decade ago, the only pepper with which I was acquainted was the sweet, but no heat, red and green Bell. Little did I know that Bell’s next of kin would offer such savage euphoria. I now use the mojo in just about every dish I prepare. Indeed, as I key in these words, I savor popcorn lavished in red chile powder. (And I don’t go the movies without it.)

I admit, I’m a slave to the chile knight whose colorful armor ranges from yellow to green to red and to black. Some are long, slender and no thicker than a swizzle stick while others are rotund and nearly spherical. They vary in length from 1/2 inch Lilliputian to a 12-inch whopper. Some chiles are spicier, and others are hotter – usually the smaller the chile, the fiercer its bite. A chile’s heat quotient can vary from tepid to tongue blistering hot.

Without dispute, Southern New Mexico offers the best and tastiest chile in the world. Just 30 miles northwest of Las Cruces is the village of Hatch, known as the Chile Capital of World. Hatch cultivates over 30,000 acres of the succulent pod and celebrates the harvest each Labor Day Weekend with a festival that includes chile roasting, chile contests, chile parades, and traditional chile dishes. Year round these savory victuals are listed on menus at many area restaurants. Once you sample these offerings, I think you’ll agree – there’s no place north of the border with better chile eats.

To help you on your culinary excursion and to familiarize you with our chile lingo and lore, I offer the following brief guide.

• Chile or chili? Debates on the correct spelling are heated. Chile is the Spanish adaptation of chili, the Aztec name for the pod. Chili, at least in New Mexico, refers to Texas soup, prepared with diced or ground beef and chili powder (or both).
• Chile powder vs. chili powder. Chile powder spelled with an “e” refers to pure ground, dried chile peppers. Chili powder spelled with an “i” is a powdered seasoning mix of dried chiles, garlic, oregano, cumin, coriander and cloves.
• Red or green sauce? Chile is usually served as a green or red sauce. Its heat level or “bite” can vary from easygoing (1) to fiery hot (10). Before ordering, be sure to ask your waiter which is the “hot of the day.” Red sauce is also known as enchilada sauce since it’s often found in that dish. Compared with green sauce, red sauce has a rich earthy flavor and adds an unusually sweet punch to most dishes.
• Chile painkiller. Dairy products like milk and yogurt – not water – dull the chile bite.
• Red chiles. Green chiles that ripen on the vine turn red. The fresh pods are often “braided” into a ristra (a string of pods) and hung to sun dry. Once dried, they’re either ground or crushed for seasonings and sauces.
• Green chiles. Before green chiles are used in cooking, they’re usually roasted in a wire mesh basket that rotates over a gas flame and then peeled. Green chiles are used in numerous recipes including relishes, sauces, stews and bread.
• Chile rellenos. These are plump green chiles packed with cheese, dipped in cornmeal and then deep-fried.
• Chorizo breakfast burrito. A flour tortilla rolled with scrambled egg bits, chopped onion, cubed potatoes, shredded cheese, red or green chile and chorizo, a spicy sausage.
• Enchilada. Rolled or flat corn tortillas either topped or stuffed with meat, cheese, onion, and smothered in red or green chile sauce.
• Tamales. Red chile pork wrapped in fresh masa (corn dough) and encased in a cornhusk. Tamales are also prepared as a sweet, a holiday tradition in Mexico. Sweet tamales are made with raisins, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, pecans and brown sugar.
• Huevos rancheros (ranch-style eggs). Best breakfast. Fried eggs lavished with green sauce and garnished with tomatoes and onions.
• Chilehead is an experienced chile chomper. The hotter the chile, the better the ‘head’.
• Hotluck. A potluck centered on chile dishes.
• Chile-fix. Chile is addictive. New Mexicans usually require a daily “fix.”
• Chile “flashes” or sweating at the brow may occur after eating a particularly “hot” chile-laced dish. Chile flashes are similar to hot flashes but they’re self-induced and are gender non-specific.
• Capsaisin [kap-SAY-ih-sihn] is what gives chiles their bite (and subsequent addictive qualities). The substance is localized around the stems, inner membranes and seeds.
• Chile Pepper Institute, The. The Institute, located in Las Cruces at New Mexico State University, is an international non-profit organization devoted to education, research and the promotion of chile peppers. The director, Agronomy and Horticulture Professor Paul Bosland, is considered one of the leading chile pepper breeders in the world.
• Hatch Chile Festival. The small village of Hatch, known as the Chile Capital of the World, cultivates over 30,000 acres of the succulent pod.
• Each Labor Day Weekend the town, just 30 miles northwest of Las Cruces, celebrates the chile harvest by hosting a festival that includes chile roasting, chile contests, chile parades, and traditional chile dishes.
• New Mexico State University Chile Teaching and Demonstration Garden. The garden is open daily and showcases more than 250 different varieties of exotic chiles. For more information, call 505-646-3405.
• New Mexico Wine and Chile Festival. Chile contests and chile eats and plenty of New Mexico wine draws thousands of folks to this Memorial Weekend event.
• Whole Enchilada Fiesta, The. Held the first weekend in October in downtown Las Cruces, the fiesta features parades, dances, Spanish music concerts and the making of the world’s largest enchilada, which is shared with more than 70,000 fiesta goers.

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Every New Years Eve we promise ourselves not to overindulge in “spirits,” but alas, it does happen. So if you’re reading this article in bed with an ice pack on your head and Pepto Bismol on the nightstand, consider yourself a self-induced victim of a hangover, or as they say in Spanish, of el crudo.

No known cure for your misdeed exists, but the good news, say astute home chefs, is many recipes can dramatically ease the aftereffects of a hangover. One Internet Chilehead, J.D. “Doug” Scudds from Ecuador, swears by Campbell’s Chunky Style New England Clam Chowder “. . . just add chile.” Scudds also observes a fundamental truism: “At least with chile, the pain comes before the buzz.”

Dave DeWitt, co-author of The Healing Powers of Chiles, [Three Rivers Press 1998] says a classic Mexican cure for a hangover is a broth laden with chile peppers. A similar recipe, with which I haven’t treated a hangover, but sip on occasion for a pick me up, is habanero flakes or other dehydrated hot chile steeped in hot water. The more flakes, the more the jolt, which clears my cobwebs within minutes.

The most famous recipe in Mexico for the effects of alcohol overindulgence is, of course, menudo [meh-NOO-doh; meh-NOO-thoh]: a zealous, spicy, and faintly sweet soup made with tripe, calf’s or pig’s feet, green chile, hominy and seasonings. Menudo, DeWitt says is “called the ‘breakfast of champions’ because of its reputed ability to banish the demons of drink.”

Tripe, found in most local grocery stores, is the muscular lining of beef stomach. The most tender and prized variety, says Himilce Novas and Rosemary Silva, authors of Latin American Cooking Across the U.S.A. [Knopf 1997], is “honey-comb tripe that comes from the second stomach.” It can be purchased already cleaned, soaked, and partially cooked. Tripe itself is rather tasteless, but easily assimilates other flavors, which is why calf’s foot or pig’s foot is often added. The marrow and meat confer a delicious flavor hoist, while its gelatinous skin lends body to the broth. If calf’s foot or pig’s foot is either unavailable at your grocers, or it just doesn’t sound appealing to you, spareribs may be substituted.

The peppery pot is often served with lime wedges, chopped chiles, diced onion, and hot tortillas. I should note that menudo is served not only following the previous night’s whoop-de-do, but is also a revered dish, often reserved for breakfast on Sundays. Go ahead, give it a try.

MENUDO

For the soup:
2 pounds fresh beef tripe, rinsed, patted dry, and cut into 1-inch squares
1 calf’s or pig’s foot, cut into pieces, or substitute ½ pound spareribs
3 quarts water
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 small yellow onion, peeled and minced
1 tablespoon mild ground dried red chile, or to taste
1 teaspoon dried powdered oregano (not crumbled)
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 ½ cups canned or cooked white or yellow hominy (also called posole), drained

For the garnish:
3 medium scallions, root ends removed and finely minced
2 limes, cut into wedges
½ cup finely minced fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons dried powdered oregano (not crumbled)
8 corn tortillas (optional)
Mexican hot sauce, your favorite brand

Put the tripe, the calf’s or pig’s foot, and the water in a large stockpot. Add the salt. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat for simmer, uncovered, skimming off any foam that rises to the surface, for 2 hours.

Transfer the calf’s or pig’s food to a cutting board and remove all the meat from the bones and cartilage. Discard the bones and cartilage. Cut the meat into small pieces and return to the stockpot. Add the spices and continue to simmer for 1½ hours. Add the hominy and bring the menudo to a boil and then reduce the heat and simmer for another hour. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve garnishes in separate bowls and enjoy.

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“Back up, honey. No, a little bit more. If you step back a little bit, and to the left in front of the cactus, I’ll get a better shot,” I said to my husband, peering through my camera’s viewfinder. Just when I was ready to snap the photo, Ed let out a “Yow!” A jackrabbit, whose long ears poked regally through a creosote bush, suddenly leaped out. Startled by the commotion, the hare used his Herculean hind legs to scamper off leaving a dusty trail behind.

Dropping my camera I dashed to Ed’s side, who stood erect and motionless as if in shock “What’s wrong?” I asked, my adrenaline pumping. Face contorted, Ed only groaned before rotating his body to reveal the cause of his grief.

The Cholla cactus plant in front of which Ed stood had blitzed him. His back and behind were peppered by the hairy, innocent-looking needles that poked mischievously from his shorts and T-shirt. I choked back a giggle.

“I don’t even know how it happened. I didn’t even touch the thing,” he said, cautiously eyeing the offending plant as if it were about to jump out at him again. “Now what? How am I gonna get rid of these things?”

“I guess we’ll try tweezers when we get back home,” I answered, trying not to envision the unpleasant “plucking” session. The ride back to the hacienda was, for my husband, a definite “pain in the butt.” Having migrated only days before to The Land of Enchantment, the cactus encountering was our – well his – first dose of what life was gonna be like in the desert.

Alas, since then, I too have been poked, punctured and pricked by cacti. And it’s no guffaw affair. The Cholla, pronounced CHOY-yuh, is probably most often culpable. Referred to as the “jumping cacti,” Reg Manning, author, comedian, and publisher of “What Kinda Cactus Izzat?”[1941] writes “There is some debate whether this plant actually jumps on its victims; there is no debate at all about the victims jumping.”

The Cholla is blanketed with thistle-white needles that appear “downy soft” and innocuous but they’re cunning. Just a slight brush against the plant and you’re an instant victim. And don’t be alarmed if you unknowingly walk away with one of Cholla’s joints clinging to some part of your extremity. Although the joints appear to be comfortably bound to the plant, they aren’t. Rather, they loosely hang from the trunk. Just a slight touch you can unknowingly acquire an extra appendage . . . that is, until the pain sets in and you “jump” from the shock.

I didn’t genuinely appreciate cacti until my first spring in the desert when a backyard “keg” barrel cactus blossomed into a beautiful bouquet of colors. I was also awed by the flaming scarlet flowers that suddenly emerged from the tips of the spindly 20-foot-stems of the strange and beautiful ocotillo, also referred to as “monkey tail” that grows near the front entrance of my home. Mistakenly classified as a cactus, ocotillo is actually a “Fouquieriaceae, . . . whatever that means,” says Manning. “It’s what the ‘botany boys’ (in desperation) named because it’s not closely related to any other plant in the Southwest.”

The only cactus with which I was familiar when I moved here was the prickly pear, whose joints resemble a paddle or “hot water bottles,” observed Manning. Prickly pear grow quickly and in abundance but are short lived, surviving twenty years. In the spring, they too burst with large, colorful blossoms that appear in pink, red, yellow and purple. Oodles of the prickly pears grow wild in my backyard. So, you can imagine my surprise when I shopped at a local grocery store for the first time and found paddles in the produce section selling for $1.59 each. Puzzled, I spent the remaining afternoon researching the prickly pear, which this native Michigander soon learned was a Native American staple for centuries. Its flowers later ripen into a delicious red fruit, a common delicacy in Mexico that is sold in markets as “tuna.” The fruit can be made into tuna jelly.

The cactus’ “paddles,” also known as “nopales,” is commonly used in Mexican recipes. Although they can be eaten raw, they taste better if boiled for a few minutes and combined with other dishes such as soup, salads and scrambled eggs.

Readying a paddle for the pot is not a simple procedure. Each paddle must be cleaned individually, the spines and “eyes” must be removed with a kitchen peeler and the paddle edges trimmed. And since the prickly pear easily “bleeds,” that is, it exudes a sticky liquid, the pad must be washed several times before it’s used in a recipe. Purchasing a paddle already “undressed” and ready to go into a recipe was obviously the best choice for me. Besides, who needs another “pain in the butt” in the family?

Scrambled Eggs

1 or 2 cactus pads, chopped into bite-size pieces
8 eggs
1/4 pound cheddar cheese (or other favorite cheese) shredded
Salt and pepper to taste

Sauté pad bites in a small amount of butter for 5 minutes. Remove. Beat eggs in a mixing bowl and add shredded cheese and pads. Pour in heated skillet and scramble. Serve warm.

Prickly Pear Salad Dressing from Prickly Pear Sweets and Treats (from http://www.desertusa.com)

1/2 cup prickly pear puree (recipe below)
1/3 cup salad oil (not olive oil)
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. sugar
3 to 4 tablespoons tarragon white wine vingegar

Shake all ingredients together in a covered jar. Makes about 1 cup. This pretty pink dressing is thin like oil and vinegar dressing, but lower in calories. Good on fruit salads and tossed green salads.

Prickly Pear Puree

Wash and peel ripe prickly pears. Cut in half with a knife and scoop out the seeds. Force the raw pulp through a medium to fine strainer. Freeze either fruti pulp or the puree. Simply pack into freezer containers and seal. Thaw before using.

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“It doesn’t matter who you are, or what you’ve done, or think you can do. There’s a confrontation with destiny awaiting you. Somewhere, there is a chile you cannot eat.” — Daniel Pinkwater, A Hot Time in Nairobi

The poor souls who suffer from allergies, whose symptoms range from a stuffy nose and itchy eyes to profound sneezing, often depend on over-the-counter potions for temporary relief. But not true-blue New Mexicans. Land of Enchantmenters grab our home grown hotheaded red or green chile pod to help clear the head. Why? A puissant chemical, capsaicin [kap-SAY-ih-sihn], which is found in most varieties of chile, is known for its nasal passage arousal and decongestant properties.

Up to 80 percent of capsaicin is found in the seeds and membranes of the chile pod. But not all peppers contain the fiery compound. Most paprika and bell pepper varieties, for example, fall at “0″ on the heat index which ranges from 1 to 10. In contrast, untamed versions, such as cayenne and habanero, produce readings from 7 and up.

Pure capsaicin powder is blonde in appearance and insoluble in cold water. That’s why drinking tumbler-size glasses of icy water, say scientists, won’t snuff out the chile irritant. But Susan Hazen-Hammond, author of Chile Fever: Mine’s Hotter Than Yours [Gramercy Books, 1996] writes, “. . . in Mexico, ancestral home of peppers, an old folk saying claims water is the best antidote. Someday scientists may discover why.”

Milk, especially whole milk, and yogurt, and a generous helping of Breyers French vanilla ice cream tames the pain for me. (Dairy products contain casein, a protein that helps desensitize the tissues by splitting the bond between the pain sensors and the capsaicin.) But other chile noshers swear by saltine crackers or a thimbleful of sugar or salt. The crystal granules, when rubbed on the tongue, are said to “sandpaper away” the pain. (Contact me if you have other surefire cures to share.)

Most chile cheechakos (chile novices) are tomorrow’s Chileheads, individuals who enjoy the cussing and sweating that occurs after downing a particularly ardent chile dish. After repeated doses of a mild variety like El Paso or Cherry, cheechakos inevitably demand a chile with a bit more bite. When I arrived in the fertile chileland ten years ago, for example, the gentle Big Jim was racy enough for me. Today, the hot Sandia peppers my homemade salsa and it’s my pepper of choice when I’m afflicted with allergies.

Alas, like thousands other, I suffer from seasonal rhinitis, a malady acquired only since relocating to this desert land. And when the nasty ailment hits, I retreat to my cozy abode, curl up on my cushy divan and savor a big bowl of Crockpot Firecracker Stew, which I share below.

2 lb. boneless, skinless chicken, shredded or cut into strips (I use chicken breasts)
1-1/2 medium white onion, thinly sliced
2 large garlic clove, minced
1/2 to 1 lb. fresh (as hot as you like) green chiles, roasted, peeled, chopped (for added punch, try canned jalapenos)
2 (15-oz) cans corn kernels, drained
1 cups long grain rice, uncooked or 4 to 8 oz. egg noodles, uncooked
4 cups water or chicken broth
1 red bell pepper, diced
1-1/2 tsp. salt, or to taste
1/2-1 tsp. pepper, or to taste

Dump ingredients into a crockpot. Turn on low and simmer for several hours. Tastes best when refrigerated overnight and reheated. Top with shredded extra sharp Cheddar cheese. Serve with warm corn tortillas

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