The market has been full of beautiful peppers. The usual bell peppers in red, orange, yellow and green, jalapeños, Hungarian wax, Trinidadian perfume, poblanos, and fiery habañeros.
It’s been a hot summer in Chicago. This July and August we’ve watched the mercury climb into the nineties more days than I care to count.
Don’t they look lovely? A little bit exotic?
I know I’ve seen them before, sitting in baskets at the farmers market, pale and papery, like tiny tomatillos or ornamental lanterns.
The Tuscans have a way with beans.
If I came away from my year in Italy learning one thing about food, it was this.