What to Do With Dried Chiles: Recipes, Cooking Techniques, and Shopping Tips

Our favorite tips and techniques for cooking with fiery and smoky dried chiles, like anchos, guajillos, chiles de árbol, and more.

Guajillo chiles evenly spaced out on a yellow-orange surface.

Serious Eats / Vicky Wasik

For a neat and tidy spice cabinet that’s actually useful, I’m typically a believer in less is more. Ground spices degrade with time, so it’s good practice to stock small, fresh batches of the ones you cook with regularly, rather than hoard a pile of mystery powders that you bought years ago.

But there’s one section of my spice cabinet where I just can’t contain myself: dried chiles.

At last count, I have eight varieties in my pantry, each with its own heat level and unique flavor, ranging from the sunny kick of Maras pepper to the sultry raisin sweetness of pasillas. Some bags go untouched for months at a time; others are used almost daily. (TBH, when a recipe says "season to taste with salt and pepper," I usually sub in red chile flakes for black pepper.) But I’m glad all of them are there, because dried chiles are flavor powerhouses that pull way more than their weight in the kitchen.

In fairness, they weigh very little. But roll with me here—these spices are worth collecting if you know how to use them right.

A Basic Chile Primer

Snipping off the stem of a dried chile with a set of shears, over a metal bowl of other chiles

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

There are a few key things to know about dried chiles before we get started: They generally have different names from their fresh counterparts; smaller ones are usually hotter than larger ones; and darker colors, such as black and purple, typically mean richer dried-fruit flavors, as opposed to the more fiery red-hued specimens.

Here are just a few of the more commonplace chiles I like to keep in my pantry, from sparky bright-red chiles to the moody sweetness of darker peppers. Do note that there are literally hundreds more chile peppers—this list reflects my personal tastes and cooking styles as much as anything else, but should get you started nicely.

  • Aleppo: These Syrian chiles are only available ground. With a bright, sunny demeanor, they’re well-rounded enough to replace your generic red pepper flakes (which means they're great on pizza). Their character is sweet and fragrant, fresh and fiery on the nose, but they’re not too hot. As the city of Aleppo is undergoing one of the worst humanitarian crises of the 21st century, growers in Turkey are filling the supply gap with their own red peppers, sold sometimes as Aleppo but increasingly by their domestic name: Maras.
  • Árbol: Short, thin, and needle-like, árbol peppers pack way more heat than flavor. They're perfect for homemade hot sauces and spice mixes, where their subtle toasted notes add an extra layer of savoriness. You may see similar-looking peppers by the name japones, which aren’t Japanese at all but are just as good.
  • Guajillo: Long and thin, with dark-red skins, guajillo chiles are hotter than anchos (below), with a brighter character. Combine both varieties with pasillas (also below) for a balance of brightness, richness, and heat.
  • Ancho: The all-purpose pepper, anchos are dried Poblanos, with a meaty texture, a rich flavor, and a mild, smoldering heat. They add great flavor and heft to sauces and blend well with a wide variety of ingredients.
  • Morita: This variety of chipotle is made by allowing jalapeños to ripen until red before they are picked and smoke-dried. The result is a dark red, raisin-like chile, with a rich, sweet, and spicy flavor. (The other type, called meco chipotles, are picked while green and smoke-dried to an ashen-brown color. Compared to moritas, they are larger, milder, and smokier.)
  • Pasilla: A long, thin Mexican pepper that’s dark to the point of being jet-black. Spicier than anchos, with a more brooding, chocolate-like character. Great in moles and with beef.
  • Urfa: This not-too-hot ground Turkish chile is dark, smoky, and redolent of prune and raisin. Where Maras and Aleppo bring bright acidity, Urfa adds incredible depth to kebab mixes and scoops of yogurt.

I also pick up these wild cards when I can find them: round, thin-skinned, maraca-like cascabels, which pack notes of coffee; spicy hot, brightly fruity, itsy-bitsy pequins; and delicately sweet mulatos.

Dried chiles are at their best within a few months of drying, which is a much shorter shelf life than the eight months to a year that we typically recommend for other whole spices. A quality dried chile shouldn’t be totally dry—you want peppers that you can bend and flex without breaking them, and that are plump like really good raisins. For the freshest dried chiles, head to Latin American and Asian markets with high turnover, or buy online from specialists.

We’d also recommend de-seeding your dried chiles before using them. Lots of people think the seeds are where the heat of the pepper lies, but that simply isn’t the case—in fact, the dried seeds taste bitter and aren’t that palatable compared with the chile’s flesh.

We’ve covered how to clean dried chiles in depth, but, long story short, you’ll want to cut off the pepper’s stem end with a pair of kitchen shears and remove those seeds. (If you have latex gloves, now’s a good time to use them.) Once you’ve removed most of the seeds, you can snap the chiles into half-inch pieces with scissors or a chef’s knife.

Here’s a taste of what these chiles can do once you've sourced and prepped them.

Flavor Every Stew

Braised lamb shoulder tacos.

Serious Eats / Vicky Wasik

About once a week, I head down the street to my Mexican grocery and pick up whatever meat or beans look good, along with a supply of onions, garlic, and dried chiles. These chiles are so freshly stocked that they’re still floppy and moist, like dried fruit—which is exactly what they are.

I stew everything together until the protein turns tender, then whizz the stock, softened onions and garlic, and rehydrated chiles in a blender until they’re nice and smooth. The result is a thick, rich, spicy chile sauce for pork, poultry, or beans, with no extra fat required. And, with pulverized chile in every bite, the braise is unbelievably fragrant and flavorful.

This is a typical Latin American cooking method that Kenji has interpreted into kitchen praxis for everyone: Rather than grind dried chiles into powder, soak them until they’re soft, then blend them into a paste. You get more flavor and more heat in every mouthful of sauce, and no ground-chile grit.

Put this method to work in classic chili con carne and all kinds of braises—Sohla’s spicy braised lamb with dates is a particularly good choice.

Turn Them Into Hot Sauce

Overhead shot of a bowl of Yucatecan salsa (k'uut bi ik).

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

You can use this same technique to make your own hot sauce. When I see rare and exciting chile varieties at the market, I fridge-dry them, then soak them in a bit of hot water and blend them up into a salsa or hot sauce. Vinegar or citrus juice extends the salsa’s shelf life; the latter is the go-to choice for the pre-Columbian hot sauces of Latin America.

But that’s just one way to preserve dried chiles for spicy condiments: You can also simply drop a few into your favorite bottle of vinegar to make a punchy pepper vinegar within a week or two. (Small, spicy chiles, like árbols or pequins, are the best choices here, since you don’t need to chop them up to fit in a bottle and they pack a lot of heat in small packages.)

When Helen You and I were working on The Dumpling Galaxy Cookbook, one of the first recipes I tried was her chile oil flavored with ground dried chiles, Sichuan peppercorns, and ginger. That was over a year ago, and the same jar of chile oil has never dipped below half empty.

You start by heating a neutral oil, like canola, until it’s almost smoking, then dump in whole árbol chiles and remove it from the heat. Let it cool, and that’s all there is to it. When the jar starts to run low, heat up more oil and more chiles and top it up. It’s a never-ending cache of toasty heat, and it’s just the thing to dress wontons (even if they’re boiled frozen ones from the grocery store).

Grind a Super Seasoning...

Close-up of avocado toast topped with sliced mango, mint, and chile powder.

Serious Eats / Vicky Wasik

Chile pastes may beat chile powders in stews and sauces, but ground dried chiles still have lots to offer. In a dry pan on medium-high heat, toast árbol or pequin peppers, tossing frequently, until they darken a shade and smell a little toasty, about 30 seconds to one minute. Then pound them into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle for an A+ seasoning to sprinkle on pad thai.

Larger ancho or pasilla chiles are great with fruits like mango and avocado—or both, on toast.

...That’s Great With Sweets

A single brownie on a plate, with a plate of more brownies in the background.

Serious Eats / Vicky Wasik

Chile powder is especially handy to keep around for baking, since it won’t throw off your liquid and acid proportions the way chile paste will. I love adding ground ancho chiles to my standard brownie recipe, along with fragrant cinnamon. When I bake with cocoa powder, I reach for a rare but delicious Peruvian pepper called aji panca, which adds a buoyant blueberry note to icebox cookies.

There’s a lot more to spicy sweets than chocolate (see also: mango, spice cake, and tequila or rum), but the two do go especially well together. Which makes sense, considering they’re both Latin American fruits. For more chocolate-and-chile-pairing advice, consult our complete guide.

And Add a Touch of Heat to Everything Else

Overhead shot of a skillet of cacio e pepe pasta, next to a block of cheese and a pepper grinder.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

The above methods are all handy for putting the fruity spice of dried chiles front and center, but sometimes you don’t want to load a dish up with lots of heat. If you’re after just a smidge of chile presence, cook your dried chiles whole instead.

Making some cacio e pepe? Toast a couple of small dried chiles in olive oil and butter before straining the infused fats into your pasta. Simmering a pot of dal? Finish it with hot oil seasoned with dried chiles, cumin, and mustard seeds—what Indian cooks call a tadka—for a final aromatic note. (The same method works wonders in this coconut chutney.) By toasting your chiles whole, you activate new flavor compounds, but mute the intensity so as to emphasize that flavor, not heat.

Toasted whole chiles wind up in more and more of what I cook; I love their roasty fragrance and delicate crunch. And, while I’ve yet to try my hand at Chongqing chicken, which uses about five chiles for every popcorn-sized chunklet of poultry, I appreciate the dish as a cook’s goal: a reminder that the seasoning matters just as much as the main ingredient.

March 2018