Green chile, corn and zucchini frittata
At Ventura’s Arroyo Verde Park on Sunday, if you squinted really, really hard, you could almost believe you were in the mountains of New Mexico -- the steep, brush-covered hillsides, the pine trees and, most important, the smell of roasting green chiles hanging in the air.
Of course, once you opened your eyes, you couldn’t help but notice the palms and eucalyptus, and then there were the booming sounds of Armenian pop coming from the wedding at the next clearing.
But that momentary illusion was enough for the more than 100 Los Angeles area alumni of the University of New Mexico who were gathered for the group’s 20th annual chile roasting fundraiser.
The roasting of fiery green chiles is a ritual in New Mexico, as much a part of the transition to fall as back-to-school sales, afternoon thunderstorms and the state fair. All over the Land of Enchantment, the pungent smell of fire-blackened peppers hangs in the air.
And now it has come to Southern California. Over the last few years, Hatch green chile roasts have become a big deal. Not just a big deal, a huge deal. Area foodies start sharing rumors about them in early summer. And information on where they are being held is collected on websites such as Chowhound.
Pictures on Facebook over the weekend showed what appeared to be several hundred people standing in line at a supermarket in La Habra, waiting patiently for their peppers.
The University of New Mexico event is far from the biggest in Southern California, but it may well be the oldest. And it almost certainly draws the most passionate consumers.
What may taste to an outsider like edible napalm is mother’s milk to New Mexicans.
“Anyone who tries it gets addicted to green chiles,” says Reuben Valles, a member of UNM’s class of 1993 and now a doctor in Encino. “It doesn’t matter who you are or where you’re from. Once you get the taste, you can’t lose it.”
Valles says he and his wife, Rebecca, usually buy a sack at the roast -- that’s about 35 pounds, an amount that is respectable but hardly notable, at least among this crowd.
Jim Corriere, class of 1992, who drives in from Brawley every year for the event, went home with 80 pounds. And one extended family accounted for 100 pounds among them.
That’s a far cry from the group’s first chile roast, says Gary Bednorz, class of 1987 and a student recruiter for the university. It was Bednorz who organized that event, and he has been at all 20 of them.
The first year, a supplier “sent me up a banana box of green chiles, like 25 pounds,” he says. “I told them, ‘That’s fine for me, but what about everyone else?’ I can go through 25 pounds in a month, no problem.”
These days the group goes through about 1,500 pounds of chiles in an afternoon, limited only by the amount Bednorz can fit in the back of his truck. At the event they’re roasted in a big rotary bin over butane flames, sorted and packed into zip-lock bags to take home and be frozen until needed.
What do people do with all of that chile? You name it. For a New Mexican, there’s no dish that can’t be improved by its addition. Traditionally it’s simmered into a sauce for enchiladas, stewed with lamb, beef or pork, or stuffed for chile rellenos. It is mashed together with tomatoes and onions for chile caribe. Sometimes posole is made with green chile instead of red.
But that’s just the classics. In modern New Mexico, green chile is just as popular as a topping for cheeseburgers and pizzas and for adding a bit of spice to omelets, quesadillas and grilled cheese sandwiches, among countless other things.
When Studio City attorney J.D. Lopez, class of 2000, is asked his favorite way to use peppers, he takes a long pause to think about it, and his wife, Rana, rolls her eyes: “You want him to name just one?”
It almost seems like it would be more difficult to name a dish that Pepe Ugarte, class of 1984, doesn’t put green chile in. “I put it in my turkey gravy for Thanksgiving, and it’s in the stuffing too,” he says. “And when I make a big rib roast for Christmas? There’s green chile in the gravy for that too.
“Green chile is a reminder of life’s simple pleasures.”
Heat the broiler. Melt the butter in a 10-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat. Cut the zucchini in lengthwise quarters, then in crosswise pieces, about one-third to one-half-inch thick.
When the butter sizzles, add the zucchini and cook, stirring occasionally. After 2 to 3 minutes, add the green onions and green chile and cook until the zucchini is tender, about 8 minutes. There should be no liquid in the bottom of the pan. Add the corn and remove from the heat.
While the zucchini is cooking, beat the eggs with a fork in a mixing bowl just until the yolks and the white are thoroughly mixed, but don’t overbeat, which can make the frittata dry. Stir in the salt, the zucchini mixture and half of the cheese and stir to mix well.
Return the skillet to low heat, cover and cook, without stirring, until the eggs have set, leaving only a top layer uncooked, about 10 minutes. Scatter the remaining cheese over the top and place it under the broiler until the top is browned and puffy, 1 to 2 minutes.
To unmold the frittata, let it cool slightly in the pan. Use a spatula to loosen it along the sides, and then bang it firmly on a cutting board to release the underside. Slide it out onto a serving plate. Serve either hot or at room temperature. If you’re going to refrigerate the frittata, let it return to room temperature before serving.
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