are big in New Mexico.
Unfortunately, didn't get to try them there, as every restaurant I went to cooked them in lard or added meat.
So I came home and roasted peppers. I've roasted peppers before, and they're OK, they're good. What's the big deal?
Yesterday something happened. I put some sliced red peppers in the oven, 425 degrees. Then I got engrossed in a puzzle. A jigsaw puzzle, 1000 pieces, artist's rendition of The House of the Seven Gables. Such an old lady thing to do, I know.
I used to love to work on jigsaw puzzles with my mother-in-law. She had one going all the time. So peaceful, doing puzzles with her.
Well, I hadn't done one in years. Then at the nursing home with students, I started to get sucked in to the puzzles, always set up in the common room. I mean, I didn't neglect my duties, but at odd moments I'd stop an put in a piece or two.
So I bought myself this puzzle. Something to do over the holiday break. I spread it out on my kitchen floor and did yoga poses as I searched for pieces. I was completely obsessed; hours melted away as I plunked in pieces.
What does this have to do with peppers? Oh, yeah. They burned. I was so absorbed in the puzzle, I forgot about the peppers for a bit and when I went to check them they were black on the edges and stuck black to the bottom of the roasting pan. I scraped them out, disappointed and hungry. Nibbled one. It was good.
They caramelized like long-cooked onions. The burned peppers were deliciously transformed, incredibly sweet.
Oh. Roasted peppers. I get it.
Unfortunately, didn't get to try them there, as every restaurant I went to cooked them in lard or added meat.
So I came home and roasted peppers. I've roasted peppers before, and they're OK, they're good. What's the big deal?
Yesterday something happened. I put some sliced red peppers in the oven, 425 degrees. Then I got engrossed in a puzzle. A jigsaw puzzle, 1000 pieces, artist's rendition of The House of the Seven Gables. Such an old lady thing to do, I know.
I used to love to work on jigsaw puzzles with my mother-in-law. She had one going all the time. So peaceful, doing puzzles with her.
Well, I hadn't done one in years. Then at the nursing home with students, I started to get sucked in to the puzzles, always set up in the common room. I mean, I didn't neglect my duties, but at odd moments I'd stop an put in a piece or two.
So I bought myself this puzzle. Something to do over the holiday break. I spread it out on my kitchen floor and did yoga poses as I searched for pieces. I was completely obsessed; hours melted away as I plunked in pieces.
What does this have to do with peppers? Oh, yeah. They burned. I was so absorbed in the puzzle, I forgot about the peppers for a bit and when I went to check them they were black on the edges and stuck black to the bottom of the roasting pan. I scraped them out, disappointed and hungry. Nibbled one. It was good.
They caramelized like long-cooked onions. The burned peppers were deliciously transformed, incredibly sweet.
Oh. Roasted peppers. I get it.
