Spice Hunting: Aji Amarillo


"If there were a chile to taste like sunshine, this would be it."

Dried aji amarillo. Darker than the fresh version, though still distinctly orange. Amazon.com

Cooking with Aji Amarillo

Kidney Beans Stewed with Aji Amarillo Sauce »

Even at common mainstream supermarkets a wide variety of chiles has become increasingly available. Fresh, dried, powdered, canned, and puréed versions abound. Gone are the days when our only choices were red pepper flakes, cayenne, and jalapeños—anchos, pasillas, and cascabels can now roam free. But beneath this happy variety lurks a dark secret: there's some serious chile discrimination going on. Whole chile families are disenfranchised, ignored by grocery stores, forcing shoppers to seek them out in out-of-the-way ethnic markets or on the perilous internet. And that's if they're told about them at all.

Capsicum baccatum is one of the five families of chiles. Compared to C. annum—the family of bell peppers, jalapeños, poblanos, and New Mexico chiles—it's not that well-known. Though if you've ever had Peruvian food, there's a good chance you've had the most recognizable of this relatively unknown chile family: aji amarillo.

What Does It Taste Like?

Native to South America, aji amarillo is a bright-orange, thick-fleshed chile with a medium to hot heat level. It's ubiquitous in Peruvian cuisine, working its way into soups and sauces, which are used in pretty much everything.

Besides its phylogeny, aji amarillo is worth seeking out for its unique flavor, which offers a lot of fruitiness for its heat. It's a different kind of fruitiness from other chiles like poblanos: less sharp and harsh, more full-bodied, and a lot more subtle. If there were a chile to taste like sunshine, this would be it. It may sound odd to use the word "comforting" to describe a hot chile, but for aji amarillo, it seems fitting.

Forms of Aji Amarillo

Aji amarillo paste. It's minimally processed and a pretty good fallback if you can't find fresh or dried versions. Amazon.com

Aji amarillo is available at Peruvian markets and some Mexican markets (as well as online) in fresh, canned, paste form, or dried. The paste (which is just boiled, blended fresh aji amarillo) is probably the most common, and is well-worth purchasing if that's all you can find. And since most sauces involving aji amarillo call for paste instead of minced chiles, it's certainly a time-saver.

I personally prefer them dried; I like the concentrated, sweeter flavor reminiscent of raisins or sun-dried tomatoes, and they remain just as subtle and rounded as their fresh counterparts. Dried chiles are also convenient: you can buy as many as you like since they're good for years, and then only use what you need, unlike with canned varieties.

How To Use It

Aji amarillo is most frequently made into sauces, either green (the famous dipping sauce at Pio Pio in New York City) or orange. The orange variety, thickened with dairy, mayonnaise, and/or some form of bread, is ladled on meat, poultry, fish, starches, beans, and vegetables. My version, tailored to kidney beans, is pretty bare-bones, with just a bit of cheese, sugar, and lemon juice for balance and a brief fry-up with some garlic to gain some depth of flavor. But this is a sauce that begs for customization.

"It's a perfect everyday chile to compliment a meal without overwhelming it"

Ground, dried aji amarillo is perfect for cooking rice, lending vibrant color and sweet, rounded flavor. You can also experiment using it in place of other harsher chiles in spice blends like chili powder for a fruitier variation. If you're wary about adding yet another chile to your pantry, keep in mind that aji amarillo tastes different from other more widely available capsicums. It's a perfect everyday chile to compliment a meal without overwhelming it, as versatile and inimitable as it is delicious.

How do you use aji amarillo?

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