Ghost Peppers: Part Two.

One of the main premises of the scientific method is replication. An experimental result is only valid if it can be replicated by recreating the same circumstances. Otherwise, ‘tis but a fluke. To that end, I believe that one attempt at cooking with ghost peppers doesn’t provide enough conclusive data for you, gentle reader. So, two nights ago, I gave it another try. Similar ingredients, similar method, dramatically different result.

First, I prepped: green beans, sweet onion and Swiss chard from Armstead Mountain Farm; Anaheim, Romanian and Marconi peppers from Arkansas Natural Produce; carrots from Little Rock Urban Farm; an el Tiburon pepper from Willow Springs; garlic from Kellogg Valley Farm; boneless pork loin from Meatworks; plus a little less-than-local crystallized ginger. Once the cutting board was clear, I brought in a single ghost pepper from Willow Springs. Despite the unforeseen mildness that characterized my last encounter, I sensed something was different. This batch of peppers, of which I ordered three, was different. The bright red, barely mottled with green signified more danger and induced a new level of caution. I gloved up (you keep nitrile gloves in your house, too, right?) and proceeded to halve and deseed this capsaicin-infused wonder.

After heating a dollop of coconut oil, I threw the pepper in. [Disclaimer: Don’t do this! It might aerosolize an intense amount of capsaicin, causing you to cough, choke and wheeze. You may have to turn off the fire, herd the dogs out of the kitchen, open doors for ventilation and ask your non-asthmatic husband handle the rest of the stir fry.] After a few minutes of oil infusion, I (maybe we, or just he) removed the pepper and threw in the pork to sear, eventually followed by the rest of the ensemble. After preparing some udon noodles and a side of cooling Turkish salad (more minced Kellogg garlic, plain yogurt, ANP purslane, a few Rattle’s Garden sungolds and a dash of olive oil, black and red pepper on top), dinner was served.

Was it hot? Well, yes. Absolutely. I would hypothesize that a great deal of ghost pepper heat is neutralized in the cooking process, but there is definitely enough heat retained to in-vigor any dish. This is not a salad pepper, a stuffing pepper, a snacking pepper or a licking pepper. It is, however, an incredible cooking pepper; one that must be treated with respect and admiration but will reward you with a distinct and savory flavor note suitable for most any recipe.

And I’ve still got two left. Arrabbiata, anyone?

The Market is only open for another fourteen hours, so get your order for awesome, local flavor in while you still can.

~Rebecca Wild