I really dislike bell peppers. For some reason, people are always trying to persuade me to like them. What's the deal with that? They also seem to be a staple in airline food, probably because their strong, overwhelming flavor makes more of an impact on our dulled taste buds at high altitudes. And it feels like it affects my brain too. If it weren't for the ban on pointy metallic objects on planes, I'd bring a pair of tweezers to pick off those annoying red and green strips they seem to sprinkle over everything.
Yet, like many things in my life, there's a contradiction. Despite my aversion to bell peppers, I absolutely love chile peppers in every shape, size, and color. Go figure.
I have a strong craving for home-grown produce, possibly because I live in a city filled with cars and dogs, making anything growing there seem unappetizing. Whenever we venture out to the countryside, we always try to visit as many markets as possible in every town or hamlet (isn't that a funny word?) we pass through.
There's nothing I adore more than coming face to face with baskets brimming with berries straight from the farm, heaps of winter squash displayed on tables at greenmarkets, and bunches of fresh herbs that appear to have been handpicked by someone, rather than the plastic-wrapped bundles in supermarkets.
During our time in the southwest of France last summer, my friends cultivated piments d’Espelette in their garden. I would venture out before each meal to handpick what we would enjoy for dinner.
In France, you typically encounter piment d’Espelette in powdered form, adding zest to dishes ranging from scrambled eggs to Basque cuisine. These peppers are primarily grown and dried in the same region. However, I've yet to find them fresh at any Parisian markets. And as the saying goes, when something is out of reach, that's when the craving intensifies. Ever since last summer, I've been yearning for them.
I decided to fire up my grill pan and roast all the peppers. After they were cooked and peeled, I allowed them to soak up plenty of olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper. We savored them alongside a delicious dinner of steak-frites, paired with a fine bottle of red wine, celebrating the final echoes of summer.
Roasted Peppers :
Sure, here's a rewritten version with some variation in style:
If you're fortunate enough to have an outdoor grill, that's an excellent option for grilling the peppers. Once they're charred, there's a debate on whether to rinse them to remove seeds; some argue it dulls the flavor, while others find it necessary. Personally, I prefer a quick dip in cool water while peeling to rid them of seeds.
Chile peppers, unlike their bell counterparts, boast thinner flesh, so expect less uniform slices. Nevertheless, the flavor payoff is what truly matters. Their thickness and density can vary, making some easier to peel than others – a potential challenge for perfectionists. But the satisfaction of drizzling them with olive oil makes it all worthwhile.
Heat a cast iron skillet or grill pan over medium-high, ensuring the chiles aren't crowded. Roast until browned, about 10 minutes per side. As each finishes, transfer to a paper bag or heatproof bowl to steam and loosen the skins.
Once cool enough, halve them vertically or slit open to lay flat. Scrape out the seeds and peel away the skin, using a paring knife if needed. A quick dip in water helps remove stray seeds before patting dry.
Arrange the roasted chiles on a serving dish, generously drizzling with olive oil and seasoning with salt, pepper, and parsley leaves for a finishing touch.
As for storage, these can be roasted ahead, marinated in olive oil, salt, and pepper, then refrigerated for up to a week. Alternatively, freeze them for future use. Serve at room temperature to savor their full flavor.