After seven enchanting years in New Mexico, I became part native. Especially my stomach.
Early fall was my favorite time, in part because the end of another hot summer always brought a sweet relief, but mostly because of a certain aroma that wafted up and down the Rio Grande Valley this time of year. The large-scale roasting of green chile fills the air with a magic pungency that grounds you to that arid landscape as autumn foliage and cider do in New England.
