Fermentation Fascination: DIY Hot Sauce

I had this whole plan, see? I'd been searching without success for the thick-skinned, thick-walled, fleshy espelette peppers like the ones I found four years ago from Viridian Farms—which is unfortunately no longer in existence—and used to such great effect to make some kick-ass, fruity, smoky harissa. In the intervening years I'd tried espelette peppers from various area farms, but the fruit, while it had the requisite thick skin, was uniformly thin-fleshed. When roasted, the flesh stuck to the skins like glue, making peeling arduous and not worth it in terms of resulting volume.

This year I was determined to try again to find those perfect peppers and purchased peppers from two more farms. Again, sad trombones.

Harissa.

With the first couple of pounds I managed to make a very small batch of harissa, but the next two pounds were just not going to be worth the work. Not wanting to waste their fruity, biting heat, I was casting about for good uses. Most suggestions were to dry and grind them to a powder, but then I ran across farmer and author Josh Volk's Instagram photo of chopped peppers that he'd fermented in a 3.5 percent salt mixture.

Bubbling away.

Aha!

A little back-and-forth with Josh led me to chop the two pounds of peppers in the food processor, add the salt, pack them in a Mason jar, set the jar in a dish in the basement, then put a zip-lock bag of water inside the jar like a pickling weight, which allows it to breathe (and overflow if necessary). Putting a lid on isn't necessary, but if you do, make sure it isn't screwed on tight—it needs to breathe!

After four days I saw bubbles and a little puddle underneath the jar, which indicated that fermentation was, indeed, occurring, so I left it for a few more days. Recipes say you can allow it to ferment for as long as a month, but being the impatient person I am, I gave it a week before bringing it upstairs to whiz in the blender, adding water to thin it to a sauce-like consistency.

Sour (i.e. pickled) corn.

The result? Well, we used it as a hot sauce on pork tacos along with some of Hank Shaw's sour corn that I'd made earlier and we thought it was great. But the real test came when I gave some to my neighbor Ivy Manning,  a hot sauce aficionado as well as author of countless authoritative cookbooks, for her expert opinion. Her reaction? "Can you just pour some out on the counter so I can roll in it?"

'Nuff said.

Hot! Hot! Harissa! (aka The Perfect Condiment)

I've been wanting to take another stab at making this anywhere-from-one-to-five-alarm sauce after making Jim Dixon's version using red bell peppers. Balanced, with a sweetness and depth of flavor from a combination of caraway and cumin, harissa also can have a searing heat depending on the type of peppers you use. I love using it to spike the sauce for my macaroni and cheese, to spice up a mild curry or to dot on top of deviled eggs.

Spanish espelette peppers.

Plus it's great on its own, served alongside eggs or stirred into dishes that could use a little kick, and is great for any family members who absolutely must have their favorite bottle of hot sauce at every meal (you know who you are…). Without the vinegary twang of hot sauces like tabasco or sriracha, it blends flavors, pulling their notes together like the background-singing heroes of the movie Twenty Feet From Stardom.

The perfect opportunity to try, try again came when I stopped in at Conserva, Manuel Recio and Leslie Lukas-Recio's outpost of the tastes of Spain. I was ogling some of the last of the fresh ezpeleta peppers from their Viridian Farms—the ones they dry and grind for their piment basquaise—when Leslie mentioned that they're terrific in harissa, more accurately representing the  flavor of the Spanish peppers that were brought to North Africa, where harissa originated.

More or less copying what I did before, I took a hint from a recipe by hot-in-his-own-right Yotam Ottolenghi and added just a touch of lemon (he used preserved lemon but, not having any in the pantry, I substituted lemon zest). Per Leslie's suggestion I lightly charred the peppers, which made peeling their very thick skins much easier, though if you use even mildly spicy peppers I'd highly recommend using rubber gloves when you're peeling and seeding them. It didn't occur to me until I'd nearly finished, and my hands were feeling hot for a couple of days afterwards even with repeated washings.

And I can't encourage you enough to talk with the farmer at the market or your retailer when you see a new ingredient that catches your attention. These peppers made a good hot sauce into a stellar one, and I'll be looking for more of them—and maybe even seeds for my garden—in the future.

Harissa

8-10 ezpeleta peppers (or Spanish espelette peppers or red bell peppers)
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds
1/2 tsp. cumin seeds
Zest of 1 lemon
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. rice vinegar
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil

Turn on the broiler in your oven. Lay the peppers on a sheet pan and put it under the broiler, a few inches below the flame. Watch carefully, turning the peppers with a pair of tongs when they start to blister. When skin is thoroughly blistered but not charred, remove the peppers to a small paper bag. Close it and leave the peppers to steam for at least ten minutes. Wearing rubber gloves, especially if the peppers are spicy, peel or rub them to remove most of the skin and remove the seeds and stems. (You can also use a paring knife to pull off stubborn sections of skin.)

Place peppers and remaining ingredients except for oil in the bowl of your blender or food processor. Turn on and drizzle in the oil, processing until it forms a smooth paste. Taste (careful, it's hot!) and adjust salt. Store in a covered jar in the refrigerator. It should last at least two weeks.

Photo of espelette peppers from Wikimedia.

Harissa How-To

I've never been a big fan of ketchup, even as a kid. On French fries I prefer aioli, and condiments like chutney, sriracha and harissa ring my chimes way more than the sugary sweetness of Heinz. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food shares his recipe for making your own harissa, a version I guarantee is going to beat the pants off anything you'll find in a squeeze bottle.

Cauliflower, Chickpea and Harissa

Harissa, the North African condiment sometimes called Tunisian ketchup, provides a smoky-sweet chile flavor that's particularly good with vegetables. While some of the commercial brands can be very hot, you can adjust the chile heat to suit your palate if you make it yourself.

You'll need a couple of roasted red bell peppers, blackened skin and most of the seeds removed, a few cloves of garlic, a half cup or so of mild or hot chile powder (or dried chiles that you've soaked and drained; there are a lot of recipes online), about a quarter cup of extra virgin olive oil and a teaspoon or so each of ground coriander and caraway (you'll have to grind the caraway yourself, or at least crush the seeds in a mortar and pestle). Combine everything with a good pinch of salt in the food processor until it forms a smooth paste. This makes about a pint, but it stores in the refrigerator for a few weeks.

Chop a head of cauliflower (I include the leaves and core; just chop into smaller bits) and cook it in a heavy skillet with enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom. Add some salt and cook over medium high heat until it's starting to brown, maybe 15 minutes. Add a chopped red onion, cook for another 5 minutes, then add a couple of cups of cooked chickpeas (aka garbanzos or ceci). Stir in a healthy dollop of your harissa, squeeze half a lemon over the whole thing and eat warm or at room temperature.