Search for habanada pepper - 220 results found

beet fusilli, celery, scallion, habanada pepper, breadcrumbs

It had been a stressful day for both of us, beginning with a 5:15 am wake-up, but I still wanted to put some kind of homemade dinner on the table. What we got was some delicious comfort food that I quickly improvised 15 or so hours later.

    • eight ounces of boiled Sfolini Beet fusilli pasta, some of the cooking water reserved (note: this pasta only takes about 5 or 6 minutes to cook, and it goes to al dente with virtually no warning), drained and stirred into a large, heavy, vintage tin-lined copper pan in which about a tablespoon of olive oil had been heated before a handful of chopped young celery stalks from Phillips Farms and one chopped Japanese scallion from Norwich Meadows Farm had been tossed in and sautéed until all of the pieces had softened, after which one section of golden/orange dried habanada pepper, sea salt, and freshly -ground black pepper were added and stirred in, the pasta and vegetables stirred over a moderate flame along with some of the pasta water until the liquid was emulsified, the sauced pasta arranged in 2 low bowls, some olive oil drizzled around the edges, sprinkled with sprinkled with toasted home-made breadcrumbs, and scattered with chopped celery leaves
    • the wine was an Italian (Marche) white, Le Salse, Verdicchio di Matelica, 2015, from Flatiron Wines
    • the music was Haydn’s Symphony No. 60, ‘Il Distratto’, and No. 91, performed by the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra

the habanada pepper: fresh, and dried two ways

I’ve used and written about these peppers so often, both fresh, as seen above, when they were available last summer, and now home-dried, that I decided I had to do a special post about them alone, if only to have something to link to.

The Habanada is a highbred pepper which was developed only recently; I think it it’s a very special one.

This paragraph, from a page on the Cornel University Small Farms Program site, is an introduction to their origin story, which, like most such stories, includes a hero:

Habanada is a brand new pepper, the first truly heatless habanero (hence the haba-nada) bursting with all the bright, tropical flavor of the fruit unmasked. Many attempts have been made over the years but none have achieved the fullness of flavor with absolutely zero heat. Their crisp, thin skin has an exotic, floral flavor like no pepper I have ever tasted. From cast-away seed to a signature show-stopper variety, Michael Mazourek has brought this pepper a long way in just thirteen generations.

I’ve encountered Habanadas only at Norwich Meadows Farm, in the Union Square Greenmarket.

When dried, which I did myself in order to extend their season through the winter and spring, at the suggestion of Haifa Kurdieh, who runs the farm with her husband Zaid, they look like this:

I retrieved the darker, very serious looking mahogany-colored batch from the oven just in time; they have more than a hint of smokiness (and, oddly something like an anise scent), in addition to the elements they retain from the original Habanero. The golden orange ones, which were my second try, are somehow both more gentle and more powerfully aromatic; they’re quite perfect, in every way.

This is a close-up of the dried golden orange, just after they came out of the oven:

All three versions have been wonderful additions to many parts of many meals over the last 6 or 8 months. I miss the fresh peppers, but I’ve been using both the darker and the lighter versions more than frequently ever since I dried them last fall, as a quick search will show. They work with everything, meat, fish, eggs, pasta, vegetables. The only difficulty they present, I might confess, is controlling my addiction (and deciding which of the 2 to use in any particular application).

rye trumpets, ramps, habanada, pepperoncino, parmesan

It was almost a night off, since, although there were 2 courses, this meal was very easy to throw together.

  • most of the bulb sections, including stems, of a bunch of ramps from Berried Treasures, heated with a little olive oil inside a heavy, high-sided, tin-lined copper pan with a bit of crushed dried dark habanada pepper and about the same amount of a crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia until the alliums had softened and begun to give pff an aroma, mixed with half a pound of Sfoglini rye blend ‘trumpets which had been cooked seriously al dente, the roughly chopped ramp leaves now added and everything (including some of the reserved pasta water) tossed and stirred over a low-to-moderate flame for a couple of minutes to blend the flavors and the ingredients, served with shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly

There was a antipasto, served immediately before the trumpets.

  • three ounces of an incredibly delicious salumi, La Quercia Ridgetop Prosciutto, from Whole Foods, drizzled with a very small amount of Alce Nero DOP ‘Terra di Bari Bitonto from Eataly
  • baby arugula from Lani’s Farm, also drizzled with the oil
  • slices of Bien Cuit rye and sunflower bread from Foragers Market

 

bresaola; rye pasta, red onion, habanada, sage, poppyseed

I had looked at the Union Square Greenmarket phone app while still abed on Monday, and saw I that there would be no fisher presence there that day, probably because the weather over the weekend had kept the boats from going out, so I didn’t head down. I could have used some vegetables, but I knew I’d find something to use with what I had on hand.

I went with an interesting salume and an interesting pasta, and I almost cleaned out my very small supply of greenery in the process.

  • four ounces of bresaola ‘Bernina’, from the Valtellina, a valley in Lombardy, via Eataly, drizzled with a bit of Frankies 457 Sicilian olive oil, the gift of  a friend
  • a small handful of arugula from Norwich Meadows Farm, dressed with a small drizzle of the same oil, a bit of Maldon salt, and some freshly-ground black pepper
  • slices of a whole wheat sourdough miche from Bread Alone

The pasta was a total improvisation.

  • three tablespoons of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ melted inside an antique tin-lined high-sided copper pot, thin slices of one medium red onion from Eataly and three small sliced cloves of Keith’s Farm Rocambole added and stirred over a low to moderate flame until translucent, several leaves of fresh sage added, along with a piece of a dried darker gold habanada pepper, stirred for a minute or so, and a good part of one sliced Japanese scallion from Norwich Meadows Farm tossed in, followed by the addition of a quarter to a half of a teaspoon of poppyseed and a generous amount of freshly-ground black pepper, and finally half a pound of Sfoglini ‘Rye Trumpets’ (organic rye flour, organic durum semolina flour, water), cooked seriously al dente, were slipped into the pot and stirred over medium heat while some reserved pasta water was added to emulsify the liquid, the pasta divided between 2 shallow bowls, a bit of Portuguese olive oil from Whole Foods Market drizzled around the edges, and topped with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano Hombre from Whole Foods Market
  • the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) white, Scott Kelley Pinot Gris Willamette 2017, from Naked Wines
  • the music was the album, ‘Bloodroot’ by Kelly Moran

salume; mushroom ravioli, alliums, habanada, olives, pinoli

It was the Saturday before the feast of Easter, the middle of the Easter Triduum. Although we don’t observe the religious parts of any religious holidays, we usually enjoy the celebrations, and especially the feasting.

Last night, more or less unwittingly, we almost honored the Catholic tradition of a restrained ‘Paschal feast’: The main course was vegetarian, but the antipasto definitely was not.

  • three ounces of fresh Salumeria Biellese finocchiona salame from Eataly, drizzled with some  Frankies 457 Sicilian olive oil, the gift of  a friend
  • some wonderful ‘wild arugula’ from Lani’s Farm, dressed with more of the olive oil, Maldon salt, and freshly-ground black pepper
  • slices of French sourdough levain from Bread Alone

  • one 10-ounce package of Rana portobello-mushroom-and-ricotta-filled ravioli rounds from Eataly, boiled inside a large pot of well-salted water for 2 minutes and drained, slipped into a large vintage tin-lined copper pan in which two sliced Rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s farm, a sliced section of green garlic from John D. Madura Farm, one small sliced red shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, some crushed dried orange/gold habanada, and a handful of pitted Kalamata olives from Whole Foods Market, otherwise left whole, had been briefly sautéed in olive oil, then a bit of reserved pasta water added and the liquids emulsified, the mix placed in shallow bowls, finished with a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkling of toasted pine nuts, and garnished with micro scallions from Two Guys from Woodbridge