There's a myth that chillies are as savage as a dragon's breath. On the contrary, some are as mild as a labradoodle. These are "sweet peppers", like capsicum, which receive a big fat O on the Scoville scale, the old-fashioned test invented by Wilbur Scoville in 1912 - he monitored how soon it took the juice of the chilli to be detected in sugar syrup by a panel of dedicated testers, many of whom possibly were unable to taste anything for some days afterwards.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
A modern chromatography test now measures the heat, spice or rather the capsaicin content of a chilli . Capsaicin also protects chilli fruit from fungal attack. (Note to self: try a chilli spray on some the apricot crop next year, to see if it stops brown rot, but mark the experimental apricots well in case the eater gets a nasty shock.
Unless they are birds. Birds can't taste chilli, even Pepper X, which won the title with 2.69SHU, beating famous chillies like the Ghost Pepper, Dragons' Breath, the Trinidad Scorpion and other names that would be useful if I ever have to name a gang of toughs. Chillies mostly come in bright reds, orange and yellow to attract the birds, which eat the fruit, excrete the seeds with a helping of dung to speed the new seedlings on their way.
All this chilli lore comes because I was asked if I had a fresh chilli to spare yesterday. For the first time in decades, I didn't - our perennial chilli plant finally died last winter after three cool, wet summers. By then it had twined itself into the lemon tree. The dangling long plump chillies looked delightful, and were hot enough to use in any recipe needing chilli - just add more of them if you want more mouth burn.
I don't actually eat chilli, or at least only the sweet kind, like capsicum or bell peppers - though bell peppers can be a bit hot if they aren't watered regularly. The less water, the hotter the bell pepper or chilli. But I do use chilli sauces, as a dash enhances other food flavours. Sweet chilli sauce is made with finely chopped chilli cooked in sugar syrup; apple and tomato chilli sauces also taste of apple or tomato. The easiest chilli sauce is made by drying the chilli, then placing them in a jar with vodka. Mark the bottle 'Warning. Do not serve to kids or the unwary'. More traditionally, chillies were added to a bottle of sherry.
I loved my chilli bush. Most chillies are annual, and die in winter, but this was a perennial variety that I bought via mail order. My perennial capsicum - really a bell pepper - arrived this way too, but a quick computer hunt tells me you can buy the seeds or plants of both at many places, and quite possibly at your local garden centre too.
Even perennial chillies are short-lived. Most authorities say five years but ours lasted about 12, possibly because it was protected from snapping off as its stem grew woody by the support of the lemon tree, and was accidentally well fed and watered, as it is almost impossible to overfeed and overwater a lemon tree, as long as it's on a well-drained slope and doesn't get waterlogged. No citrus like wet feet.
MORE JACKIE FRENCH:
My favourite annual chilli is the heritage Italian "bull's horn" which looks just like a tapering, red burn-your-socks-off chilli, but is quite mild if, and only if, it's well watered and fed. It grows well even in cool climates and has lovely thick flesh too. You'll still get a good crop before it dies off in winter.
Your perennial chilli, though, will just keep bearing. When the roses stop blooming in the frost, bung a branch of perennial red chillies or perennial bell peppers into your vases and bulk them out with greenery, like bay or cumquat leaves - gorgeous. You can even snack on them.
This week I am:
- Tying up the tomatoes, which have decided to grow horizontally instead of vertically.
- Eating many, many zucchini in many, many ways.
- Finally picking our first red finger limes! Sadly I left these to pick with the grandkids, so their skins are now deep purple, not red, and they have seeds among the red globules - in other words, overripe.
- Watching a small boy's wonder as over four days what looked like a walnut-sized orange fruit opened to become a vivid flower which then turned into a small reddish fruit. By autumn it will be a pomegranate. Pick early if you want crunchy seeds to add to a salad, or late if you want them for their juice.
- Checking we have enough broccolini to see us through winter. This is the time to plant long-yielding winter greens, like fat red cabbages, or elegant Romanesco broccoli, but the broccolini will yield more, and for longer. Bung in celery (I mostly use the tender tops, which you won't find in supermarket celery, rather than the stringy stems), parsley, spring onions, parsnips and many, many carrots too, if you want to munch them through winter, and cherry or Roma tomatoes too, if you really want to cut down your grocery bill and add a yum 'fresh' factor to winter meals.
Jackie French
Jackie French is an Australian author, historian, ecologist and honourary wombat (part time), 2014-2015 Australian Children' Laureate and 2015 Senior Australian of the Year. She also writes a gardening column for The Canberra Times.
Jackie French is an Australian author, historian, ecologist and honourary wombat (part time), 2014-2015 Australian Children' Laureate and 2015 Senior Australian of the Year. She also writes a gardening column for The Canberra Times.
