My Chili Story
The first sign that Fall 2006 was coming to
New Mexico was the bite in the air. Not the one from cold, fresh air.
The bite from the fumes of chilies being roasted everywhere
across the state. Life-long residents may be fine, but immigrants
like ourselves find their throats closing a little in reaction to
airborne capsicum (pepper spray).
One local friend finally asked us if we wanted a "bag" of chilies when
they went to their favorite place. For those of you from other states,
this means a burlap sackful. Like the kind you use in sack races. We
thought we heard they were getting 3 bags, so we figured just one would
be fine for our first experience.
The way it works is, you buy the sackful of green chilies, preferably
grown in the town of Hatch, NM. Mild, medium (our choice), hot, or
incompatible with life. The vendor dumps the sack into one of those
powerball cages, but this one has a flamethrower attached underneath.
The chilies roast, and pop, and scorch (if you are lucky) while sending
up unbearable fumes. At just the right time (the roaster is supposed to
know), the chilies get dumped into a plastic sack. That sack gets put
into another plastic sack - double-confinement per DOT chili shipping
regulations. The chilies cool while you drive home. This being New
Mexico, that is usually more than 50 miles and the chilies are ready
for you by the time you get them inside.
Our chilies arrived too late at night, so I started on them the next
day after SCBA training for the VFD. Too bad I left the SCBA on the
fire engine. I could have used it. I set the chilies on the counter,
with a giant bowl for skins and seeds, and a bowl for the processed
chilies. Oh, and I set a box of powder-free surgical gloves next to me.
I believe I ended up burning through 3 pair.
Everyone has their way of processing. I decided to peel the skin off
and discard the seeds and stem. I quickly learned that the uglier the
chili looked, the easier it was to peel. And the beautiful big red ones
(yes, red green chilies) were not as roasted as the dark green ones
(because red reflects more heat, I guess), so they were impossible to
peel and mostly wasted.
The plastic sacks that looked like they held a lot of chili ended up
being an unbelievable amount of chili. 5 and one half hours later
(that's 1:00 to 6:30 without a break), every smallish container we own
was packed with chilies and filling the bottom compartment of the
freezer. In the end, I had to just start on a large container for the
refrigerator to use fresh now. Anyone want to come for dinner?
Not everyone realizes that rubber gloves are NOT impermeable, just an
impediment. While I was afterwards able to rub my eyes, etc., without
inflicting excruciating pain, still the skin of my hands took on the
consistency of 100 grit sandpaper. Several ounces of hand lotion fixed
that problem for now, though the problem will return in spades once we
start using wood stoves full-time.
As for the rest, Angela & Zak failed to return from Greece
unpregnant, so Eleni will be a grandmother in May. Ana married Isaac,
and we don't know how to react to that (life is strange, or at least
kids are). Eleni is working more than full time (not news) as health
educator and temporary phys ed teacher for the Jemez Pueblo. I am
working way too much in my "new" 120-day detail (210 days since it
started), and learning just how fun it is to be a supervisor/manager in
the U. S. government. I have to do appraisals this weekend because I
could not work on them last week and they are due now. I have seen
temperatures in the teens and 70's this week, and there is snow in the
air, and occasionally on the ground. ©John Fredlund, 2006-7