Breathing Fire: The Chipotle
More and more, America's great chefs are discovering a lot to loveabout the chipotle. They are using it to flavor bland foods, to heat up a list of meals.
by
Mike
Moore
Dried or canned, chipotles have the magical capacity to turn an ordinary cook into a talented chef who has learned to underplay common flavors with just a hint of smoke and fire.More and more, America's great chefs are discovering a lot to love about the chipotle. They are using it to flavor bland foods, to heat up a list of meals.
Bobby Flay, chef/owner, of Mesa Grill and Mesa City in New York is a leading proponent. "When I walk around the kitchen tasting things," he says, "and some dish kind of needs something, it's almost always chipotle, because it has such great flavor."
Rick Bayless, author of "Rick Bayless's Mexican Kitchen" (Scribener, 1996) and chef/owner of La Frontera restaurant in Chicago, grew up in Oklahoma in a family that ran a barbecue restaurant. "I found a lovely similarity of flavors between the barbecue I grew up with and the dishes that were flavored with chipotle," he says.
In Florida, Norman Van Aken even uses chipotles in deserts.
What drives chefs, and diners, wild about chipotles -- ripened, smoke-dried jalapeno peppers -- is not the heat, but there is no denying chipotles pack a sharp burn. They admire chipotle's subtle, complex flavor, which become apparent once you've adapted to the heat. And adapt you will. On first taste, you will think your mouth will explode in flames. But you want more. And as you eat, you discover the depth and roundness of its flavor.
Chipotles are great on a steak or on lamb chops. Almost any cut of pork is enriched by chipotle's almost fruity taste. Use them to flavor a roast chicken or on turkey. You can add them to rice and beans, or to a tomato soup. Dice them up and add them to mayonnaise or sour cream or cream cheese for a dip or sandwich spread. Chop them up and add them to your favorite corn bread recipe for a Southwestern tang and burn. Or drop a dried pepper into a bottle of vodka, let it macerate there for an hour or two and pour yourself a most wicked martini.
Josephina Howard, owner of Rosa Mexicano -- one of Manhattan's leading Mexican restaurants -- traces the origin of the chipotle to a village called Misantla, near Veracruz. The word comes from the Aztec of "smoked chili."
Unlike other chilies, jalapenos cannot be air-dried. To be preserved, they must be smoke-dried. That process adds the smoky flavor and concentrates the heat of the chili.
Home cooks can turn up the heat as well. Most supermarkets and corner groceries now stock canned chipotles -- usually in a rich, dark, spicy garlic-tomato sauce called adobo.
Canned chipotles are dark reddish-brown. There is no sense in trying to separate out the seeds to reduce the heat of chipotles in adodo sauce -- the chilies have been in their marinade so long all of it is intensely hot.
The peppers slice very nicely with a knife, or you can dump the entire contents of a can into your blender or food processor and puree for a delicious sauce.
But the sodium level runs high. Two chilies will provide 15 to 18 per cent of the government's recommended daily salt allowance.
Specialty stores sell dried chipotles, which are lighter in color and give an aroma faintly reminiscent of cigarettes. Before using them, remove the seeds and de-vein them. Then toast them gently in a hot dry skillet to release their volatile oils. Cover them with hot water for a few minutes until the soften and plump up. Throw away the steeping liquid which can become bitter.
Either way, you'll usually want to balance chipotle's diabolical heat with a hint of something sweet -- honey, sugar, fruit juice or the like.
Breathing Fire: The Chipotle