Roasted Pepper Salad

Eduardo has bought tomato plants. Six of them. Heirloom varieties — Brandywine, Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra, Sungold, Amish Paste, and one labeled "Carmen," which Eduardo bought because of the name and which he handed me Saturday morning with an expression of deep affection. He said, "We are going to grow Carmen tomatoes." I said, "Eduardo, I am retiring. I am not becoming a farmer." He said, "You will have the time. It will be good for you. The sun, the dirt."

He planted them in the bed along the south wall of the garage, which gets full sun from 10 AM to 4 PM. He staked them. He mulched them. He installed a drip irrigation system that goes on at 7 AM automatically. He is taking this very seriously. I told him I would tend them during the week when he is at work, because he works and I work and we cannot both tend tomatoes simultaneously. After June 30 I will tend them full-time.

I will tell you now, mi amor, because the blog requires honesty: I am not a gardener. I cook what other people grow. I have a deep respect for farmers and a lifelong disinterest in being one. But Eduardo wants this for me. So the tomatoes are mine to raise. I will do my best.

This week I made salsa. Not the tomato-based thing you think. Caribbean salsa — a fruit salsa — with mango, red onion, cilantro, jalapeño, lime juice, a pinch of salt. The mango came from the Park Street bodega. It was not a good mango — not like an island mango — but it was a mango. I paired it with grilled snapper for dinner on Thursday. Eduardo ate it. He said, "This is a summer food." I said, "It is almost summer, Eduardo." He said, "I know."

Mami came Friday. She ate a small piece of snapper and some mango salsa. She said, "The mango is not ripe enough." She was right. The mango was not ripe enough. The mango from the Connecticut supermarket is never ripe enough. You cannot win on mainland mango. You survive on mainland mango. Mami understood this.

Sunday I made arroz con pollo and cooked it outside on the new patio burner Eduardo had set up — also part of his "Carmen in the backyard" campaign — and I have to admit the cooking outside at 5 PM in warm air with the tomatoes visible growing in the garden bed was a nice hour. I did not say it was nice out loud. Eduardo knew. He was sitting at the patio table with a beer. He did not comment. Marriage is letting each other have small victories silently.

Mami was there. Eduardo drove her over. She ate the arroz con pollo at the patio table. She said, "This is what people do in Puerto Rico." I said, "I know, Mami." She said, "You did not need to come to Hartford to do this." I said, "Yes, Mami. I had to come to Hartford to come home." She thought about that. She did not reply. Wepa.

The tomatoes are not ready — they will not be ready for months — and I am learning to be patient with things that grow on their own schedule. But while I wait for Eduardo’s garden to give me something to cook, I made this roasted pepper salad, which requires no drip irrigation system and no automatic timer and no staking. You put peppers under heat. You wait. You peel them. You dress them with garlic and olive oil and something bright, and you carry them outside to the patio table where someone is sitting with a beer, and it is enough. This is the kind of cook I am: the kind who finds the summer in what is already ripe.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

6 large bell peppers, mixed colors (red, yellow, orange)
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/4 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon capers, drained (optional)
4–6 fresh basil leaves, torn

Instructions

Roast the peppers. Position an oven rack 6 inches from the broiler and set broiler to high. Place whole peppers on a foil-lined baking sheet. Broil, turning every 5–6 minutes with tongs, until skins are blackened and blistered on all sides, about 25–30 minutes total.
Steam and peel. Transfer roasted peppers immediately to a large bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap or a plate. Let steam for 15 minutes — this loosens the skins. Once cool enough to handle, peel away the charred skin with your fingers. Do not rinse; you want to keep the roasted oils and juices.
Seed and slice. Cut each pepper open over the bowl to catch any juices. Remove stems and seeds. Slice peppers into 1/2-inch strips and return them to the bowl with their collected juices.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, garlic, salt, and black pepper until combined.
Dress and rest. Pour the dressing over the sliced peppers. Add capers if using. Toss gently to coat. Let the salad rest at room temperature for at least 15 minutes — or up to 2 hours — so the flavors can settle into each other.
Finish and serve. Just before serving, scatter the fresh parsley and torn basil over the top. Taste and adjust salt. Serve at room temperature alongside grilled fish, roasted chicken, or crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted Pepper Salad — What the Garden Teaches You While You Wait