Fried Jalapeños

September chili. Year eight. The annual. The same pot, the same recipe, the same transition from summer to fall. The chili is in the restaurant now — on the menu as a seasonal special starting September 1st. The September chili that I've been making since year one is now a menu item. A PAID menu item. The chili I made alone in the dark kitchen in Antioch is now being sold to customers who sit at a counter and pay $12 for a bowl. The distance between the dark kitchen and the lunch counter is: seven years, three children, one pandemic, one sunflower tattoo, and approximately 10,000 bowls of chili. The chili doesn't know about the distance. The chili just knows about beans and beef and time. The chili is the most honest historian I know.

Community screening update: Brian ran the fall session. One hundred and forty people. 140. WITHOUT me. The program that I built now runs without me and it GREW without me. 140 people, up from 134 at my last one. The growth continued. The program outlived its founder. Not outlived — outlasted. The program outlasted my involvement and the outlasting is the success. The success of a community program is not that it runs while you're there. The success is that it runs after you leave. I left. It ran. It grew. That's the whole measure. That's the only measure that matters.

The Best of Nashville issue comes out next month. The nomination is real. The voting is public. I haven't campaigned. I haven't asked anyone to vote. The food campaigns. The cornbread campaigns. The closing of the eyes campaigns. If Sarah's Table wins, it wins because the food won. If it doesn't win, the food is still the same and the cornbread is still aggressively unsweetened and the six stools are still full by noon and the winning doesn't change the cooking and the cooking doesn't need the winning.

Elijah said something this week that stopped me: "Mama, is Earline in the picture?" He pointed at the photograph on the restaurant wall. The photograph of Earline in front of the farmhouse. He asked if Earline is in the picture because he's three and he's never met her and she exists, for him, only as a photograph on a wall and a name on a sign and a recipe on a menu. Earline is, to Elijah, a story. A mythology. The woman in the picture. I said: "Yes, baby. That's Earline. She's your great-great-grandmother. She made the cornbread." He said: "She made ALL the cornbread?" All the cornbread. As if Earline personally produced every piece of cornbread in the world. As if the cornbread in the display case was made by the woman in the photograph. He's not wrong. It was. Earline made all the cornbread. Every piece. Every batch. Every recipe. Every generation's version started with Earline's hands. She made all the cornbread. He's exactly right.

The chili has jalapeños in it — has always had jalapeños in it, since the very first pot in that dark kitchen in Antioch. They’re the part of the recipe Earline would have approved of: bold, direct, no apology. So as September chili season officially opens at the restaurant, it felt right to give the jalapeño its own moment — not buried in a pot, but front and center, golden and crispy and unapologetic, the way year eight feels.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

12 fresh jalapeño peppers, sliced into 1/4-inch rings (seeds in or out, your call)
1 cup all-purpose flour, divided
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for finishing
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons buttermilk
1 cup fine breadcrumbs or panko
Vegetable or canola oil, for frying (about 2 cups)
Ranch dressing or sour cream, for serving

Instructions

Set up your dredging station. In a shallow bowl, combine 1/2 cup of the flour with garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, black pepper, and cayenne. In a second shallow bowl, whisk together the eggs and buttermilk. In a third bowl, combine breadcrumbs with the remaining 1/2 cup flour.
Dredge the peppers. Working in small batches, coat jalapeño rings first in the seasoned flour (shake off excess), then dip in the egg mixture, then press firmly into the breadcrumb mixture until fully coated. Set on a plate or rack while you finish the batch.
Heat the oil. Pour oil into a heavy skillet or Dutch oven to a depth of about 1 inch. Heat over medium-high until it reaches 365°F. If you don’t have a thermometer, drop in a pinch of breadcrumbs — they should sizzle immediately.
Fry in batches. Carefully lower jalapeño rings into the hot oil in a single layer, without crowding. Fry for 2—3 minutes, turning once, until deep golden brown on both sides. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper-towel-lined plate.
Season and serve. Immediately sprinkle with a pinch of kosher salt while still hot. Serve right away alongside ranch dressing or sour cream for dipping.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fried Jalapeños — The Heat That Started Everything