A few years ago when I was surprised by a bumper crop of peachy mama peppers, beautiful apricots-and-cream-colored peppers with all the flavor and none of the heat of habaneros, I found that dehydrating and grinding them produced the most fragrant chili powder imaginable, so wonderful that I find myself sneaking a pinch into almost everything I cook.
I first acquired them from my local CSA, but otherwise the peppers are rare, so much so that the only way I can grow them at all is to save the seeds from the year before. Imagine my disappointment, then, when my pepper seeds were slow to start this spring and still just tiny sprouts by mid-July. I know these tropical fruits are late producing, and I nurtured them through a cool, dry summer, but by the end of September, there was only a handful of peppers, nowhere near enough to produce enough powder to make it through to next fall.
Fortunately, although I am no longer a summer subscriber, I know my CSA farmer vends his crops at a farmers market on the north side of the city, and so Heidi and I took a little Saturday morning road trip up to that little village. Oh my! We found parking right away across from a picturesque elementary school on a street lined with neat cottages and cute bungalows. There was a little grocer on the ground floor of a Victorian house on the corner selling organic meats and other local products. The market itself had about 7 stalls, one selling hand dyed wool and felt with 2 sheep in a pen, a couple bakers, a pan-African cooked-to-order stall, and a few farmers, including my guy. The peachy mamas were there too, and we scored a half bushel for a bargain price.
Munching on halves of a ginormous almond croissant, we drove home through the city, past embassies, parks, and monuments, a felted pumpkin kit and peppers in the back. "Why don't we live there?" I asked Heidi.
