I was at such a loss, my first year or two in the desert, for signs of season. I remember some part of my waiting and waiting for changing leaves which never came, until suddenly somehow it was November and I felt strange and disoriented, lacking ground beneath my feet. I remember heading to Rosh Hashanah services on hundred degree days, feeling a disconnect between the hot, dry air around me and the memory of 25 years of walking to Rosh Hashanah services through crisp autumn air with my family. It’s hard to remember that now, as I look instinctively for the signs of autumn that are now part of how my world works: the clearing of the monsoons, dry air, cool evenings, a certain desert clarity to the air. Not yet, the desert says to us. Not quite yet. But it gives up another preliminary sign instead:
The scent of roasting green chiles.
It is, in its way, as distinctive as the wet-creosote smell that is a sign of monsoon season, it’s definitely as evocative as the crisp scent of dying leaves that used to mark my autumns–the scent of roasters filled with the chiles, and the scent, too, of the small bags of pre-roasted chiles we’ve started bringing home every week from our CSA share. The CSA has also informed us that larger, 20-pound bags of the roasted peppers are available for an extremely reasonable price.
We must be wanting autumn. Even though we still have a few frozen green chiles left over from last year, we placed an order.
Anyone have any favorite roasted green chile recipes they’d like to share? 🙂