Some Like It Hot

By Guy Garcia

THE STYLISH, WELL-HEELED CROWD packing the aisles of the second Santa Fe Wine and Chile Fiesta knew a hot trend when they saw it -- and tasted it. Between sips of Chardonnay, about 2,000 "chileheads" dressed in pepper-print shirts, skirts and ties spent four days sampling chile dishes, taking "chile tours" of the New Mexican countryside and listening to experts like Paul ("Mr. Chile") Bosland dispense advice on how to grow just about every member of the family, from the mild-mannered bell pepper to the Mexican habanero, the world's hottest. The chile mania "has really turned into a tiger," says Bosland, who has headed the chile-research program at New Mexico State University since 1985.

America's infatuation with the once humble (and often shunned) chile has been fueled by a proliferation everywhere of Mexican and nouvelle Tex-Mex restaurants over the past decade and a growing public appetite for new flavor sensations. Last year sales of salsa, whose main ingredient is chile, surpassed catsup by $40 million, making it the country's most popular condiment. The peppers are popping up in such mainstream products as Le Menu "Santa Fe style" frozen dinners and McDonald's chicken fajitas. Manufacturers are packaging chile pastas, chile jams and jellies, chile catsup, chile-spiced mustards, peanuts, potato chips and pickles. There is even a sizzling rock band called the Red Hot Chili Peppers. "There are very few bad things about peppers," says David DeWitt, editor of Chile Pepper, a bimonthly magazine with a circulation of 80,000. "They have virtually no calories, no cholesterol, high fiber, high vitamin A and C content." As a result, says DeWitt, who will help put on a "Fiery Foods" show in Albuquerque, New Mexico, next February, chile has become a $3 billion industry in the U.S. alone.

Inspired by -- and also instigating -- this heat wave are such adventurous and widely known chefs as Mark Miller of Washington's Red Sage and Josefina Howard of New York City's Rosa Mexicano, who regularly experiment with chile- flavored dishes like duck tamales with herb salsa, roasted oysters with green jalapeno strips and chile-laced chocolate cake. Amateur cooks have joined the craze with the help of more than 20 cookbooks devoted exclusively to hot and spicy Mexican, Thai and Cajun foods. Mail-order outlets like Hot Stuff in New York City, Mo Hotta Mo Betta Co. in San Luis Obispo, California, and Hatch Chile Express in Hatch, New Mexico, sell fresh chile pods, powders and jars of salsa, as well as such kitschy pepperphernalia as chile-shaped fishing lures, earrings and ashtrays. "It used to be our customers would look confused and ask what they should do ((with chile products))," says Chile Express owner Jo Lytle. "Now they know exactly what kind of chile they want and what strength."

This hankering after the excitement offered by non-European dishes amounts to something like a kitchen rebellion, says journalist Amal Naj, whose book, Peppers: A Story of Hot Pursuits, has just gone into its second printing. "Americans are discovering that food doesn't have to be so passive," he remarks. "It can be an active experience like riding a roller coaster, or a good game of squash, or taking a stroll on a beautiful evening and experiencing the breeze. It does something to your entire system."

The "something" that turns the human system into a four-alarm fire is capsaicin, a chemical concentrated in the veins and seeds of the chile pod. A member of the nightshade family (as are tomatoes, potatoes and tobacco), the chile pepper is believed to have originated in South America. Incas and Mayans prized it for its vibrant flavor and curative powers, prescribing peppers for ailments as diverse as arthritis, epilepsy and the common cold. Pepper seeds carried back to Europe by Christopher Columbus eventually found their way to China, Korea, Thailand and India -- the last of which today leads all other nations in per capita chile consumption.

Among Americans, the most popular pepper is the innocuous bell, followed by the pimento, used in making paprika and stuffing olives, and the green jalapeno, common in nachos and green salsas. Chile connoisseurs also extol the virtues of such lesser-known varieties as the smoky chipotle, the fleshy red- brown poblano, the piquant pequin and the sweet-tasting habanero, which is famed, perhaps notorious, for its pure, blazing fire. In New Mexico, the chile-growing capital of the U.S., the longish local variety is often served stuffed with cheese or as a topping for hamburgers and pizza.

The common belief among the pepperati nowadays is that a dose of hot chile, while not strictly medicinal, stimulates the senses and clears the mind, prodding the palate to the threshold between pleasure and pain. There are even some aficionados who tell of a "chile high," produced by the body's endorphins in reaction to the sting of the pepper pod.

The best argument for chile, however, is that it is ideal for invigorating low-fat, potentially bland dishes and that it is healthful, plentiful and cheap. Peppers are also in tune with the nation's changing demographics. "For most of our early history," says Chile Pepper editor DeWitt, "immigration was from central Europe -- England, Ireland, Germany -- countries not renowned for their hot and spicy cuisines. In the past half-century, immigration patterns have switched to such areas as Mexico, Asia and the Caribbean. People bring their food, and they open their markets. We go, and we like them."

Perhaps equally important is the fact that once bitten, most chile lovers keep coming back for more. "Hot peppers are here to stay," says Naj. "It's like people who are trying to learn swimming. You get them to the swimming pool, and they don't want to go into the water. Then once they're in it, they say, 'Ahhh, not so bad.' " If Naj is right, it's only a matter of time before the rest of America takes the plunge.

With reporting by Nancy Harbert/Albuquerque and Georgia Harbison/New York