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A rare treat getting rarer: Chimayo Red, New Mexico's 'holy chile'

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A rare treat getting rarer: Chimayo Red, New Mexico's 'holy chile'

Fidel Martinez raises a quarter-acre of chile at his ancestral home in Chimayo, but he only gives it away to family and friends.

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The two travelers from New Orleans touched their fingers to the reddish-orange chile powder on a napkin, put it on their tongues, and then looked at each other in astonishment.

“Very rich, full-bodied, earthy,” said Erin Seckso.

“I’m a native Louisianan,” said her companion, Letty Boelte, “and I’m used to hot spices. This is something pure. And different.”

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They’re not alone. Many chefs and capsaicin connoisseurs consider red chile from the tiny village of Chimayo, nestled in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains between Santa Fe and Taos, to be the most delicious pepper in the American Southwest. But it’s harder and harder to find.

This tasting took place at El Potrero Trading Post, a 76-year-old store that also sells turquoise jewelry, folk art and Catholic religious items. Potrero carries two kinds of chile: local Chimayo chile and Hatch chile. (In New Mexico, they spell it with an “e”.)

Hatch is by far the most popular New Mexico chile. The peppers are long, hardy and hybridized, and you can find them fresh outside the state. They’re farmed on an industrial scale in southern New Mexico.

By contrast, Chimayo peppers are smaller and curvy. They’re artisanally grown from heirloom seeds originally planted by Pueblo Indians and adopted by Spaniards 400 years ago. The red pods are dried the old-fashioned way, in hanging bunches called ristras — an iconic symbol of the Land of Enchantment.

Raymond Ball, proprietor of El Potrero, says the demand for Chimayo Red is constant but its scarcity means

Raymond Ball, proprietor of El Potrero, says the demand for Chimayo Red is constant but its scarcity means “there’s times when we just run out and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

John Burnett/NPR

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“The difference is Chimayo chile has a much better flavor to it,” said the store’s third-generation proprietor, Raymond Ball. “Here in New Mexico, we don’t use chile as a seasoning. We use chile as an ingredient. It wakes up every taste bud, and it’s the main flavor in your mouth.”

At El Potrero, a pound of Chimayo red sells for a hefty $50; a pound of Hatch red is $7.

“I’m surprised we can still provide Chimayo chile in our store,” Ball continued, “given the fact that there are fewer and fewer farmers growing it. The demand is high and there are times when we just run out and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Just up the road from El Potrero is Rancho de Chimayó, one of the most storied restaurants in New Mexico, founded in 1965 by Arturo and Florence Jaramillo. Mrs. Jaramillo still oversees day-to-day operations, sitting at her desk as waitresses rush past with steaming plates of blue corn enchiladas, carne adovada, and chile rellenos. But even this famous restaurant can’t locate enough Chimayo chile to use it in their James Beard award-winning kitchen.

“It’s the best. The taste is wonderful,” Jaramillo said. “I mean, it takes three ristras to make a pound of red chile. Nobody in the valley has that much chile. As the older people die, the younger people won’t raise it.”

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The village is actually most famous not for its chiles, but for El Sanctuario de Chimayo, a legendary Catholic pilgrimage site and a lovely example of Spanish colonial architecture. Tens of thousands of the faithful make pilgrimages to the shrine during Holy Week, with many stopping in the tiny room off to the side to scoop up some “holy dirt” from a pit in the floor. Believers swear it cures all kinds of maladies, and the anteroom is filled with crutches and testimonials.

Some folks believe the

Some folks believe the “holy dirt” at the famous Catholic shrine, the Sanctuario de Chimayo, makes for “holy chile.”

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“A lot of people believe that the holy dirt…contains a lot of the same elements as the chile does,” says Jason Blum, co-owner of Chimayo Chile Brothers. “I mean, you drive around the Sanctuario up there, and there’s pictures saying ‘holy chile.’ ”

His company buys chile powder locally and ships it anywhere in the world for $68/pound. One of his online retailers sells the holy chile on its website for the unprecedented price of $100/pound.

All of this beg the question, if it’s so valuable, why is there so little of it? Locals estimate fewer than 500 acres are planted every year, compared to 50,000 acres of Hatch cultivated in New Mexico and surrounding states.

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“Truth be told, there’s an epidemic going around. And it has a lot to do with the kids and the youth, and it’s drugs,” said Patricio Chavez, a fifth-generation farmer and artist in town. He sells the heritage pepper for $20 for 12 ounces in his family’s store, the Chimayo Chile Shop.

“We don’t have that generational grandfather, father, son. It’s all broken. Who’s gonna teach the farming if the grampas and dads don’t do it?”

Chavez buys his chile powder—the rich-red color of a New Mexico sunset—from a grower about 10 miles away, technically outside of the Santa Cruz River Valley where Chimayo is located.

“There’s gardens from here to Espanola that are growing the nativo seeds,” Chavez said. “So it’s not just Chimayo. And they’re all wonderful.”

If you Google “Chimayo chile for sale,” lots of online sellers pop up offering bags of ground chile for well under $15. Local retailers say those products are blatantly counterfeit, but there’s nothing they can do about it.

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“It’s just the way businesses are,” said Patricio Chavez with a smile. “Anything you put ‘Chimayo’ on it’s going to sell.”

Ristras of freshly harvested Chimayo red chile are hanging to dry in Fidel Martinez's shed.

Ristras of freshly harvested Chimayo red chile are hanging to dry in Fidel Martinez’s shed.

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Chimayo chile is such a hot commodity that when the biggest grower in the valley finally answered his phone, he evaded an interview and a visit to his fields. “People are already stealing my chiles, man!” he said, asking to remain unnamed.

Finally, a local pepper hobbyist said to come on over and help him harvest.

Fidel Martinez, retired from Los Alamos National Lab, stood in his quarter-acre of knee-high plants growing on his family’s ancestral land. He plucked a handful of the fire-engine-red peppers and tossed them into a basket.

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“Look all over, down into the plants,” he called over his shoulder. “Look, they’re hiding down there. Once they’re red, they’re ready.”

FYI, chiles start out green; they turn red when they ripen. It’s all the same plant.

Fidel and Loyda Martinez don’t sell their crop.

“We plant for family and friends and we give it away,” he said.

Their chiles are so valued that a University of New Mexico plant scientist has sent their seeds to gardeners on all seven continents to test their success in different soils. But the couple said it’s just not the same.

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“The sand is special,” Fidel said. “It’s the land that makes the chile taste really good.”

Loyda, also retired from Los Alamos, chimed in, “It has a sweet flavor. You can plant it all over the world but the taste is different all over the world. So it’s the dirt and the seed that mixed together that make it so unique, this Chimayo chile.”

Martinez chile powder is special. It’s burnt orange, lighter in color and sweeter than chiles for sale in the village. But all the chile powder tasted in Chimayo establishments was exotically delicious, and a powerful validation of the adage: buy local.

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OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf

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OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf
The Italian fashion group behind Diesel and Maison Margiela is taking full ownership of the avant-garde haute couture house, acquiring the remaining 30 percent it didn’t already own. Founders Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren remain creative directors.
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How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet

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How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet

The scoreboard shows the results of the women’s singles final match between Iga Swiatek of Poland and Amanda Anisimova of the U.S. at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships in London, Saturday, July 12, 2025.

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Fifteen points in tennis? Nice. Thirty, 40 — even better. Advantage — that sounds good. “Love” — that also must be great, right? Well, not quite.

As the French Open rolls on and Serena Williams has announced her return to the sport, maybe you’ve been paying a little more attention to tennis. The sport’s scoring system is notably distinct, and can sometimes be hard to grasp for newcomers. But even tennis aficionados might not know why, or how, “love” became the unmistakable callout for zero points. For this installment of NPR’s Word of the Week, we’re exploring how a word that signifies trailing behind got such a sweet name.

“Love” comes from the heart — or an egg?

It’s hard to pinpoint when the first tennis ball went over the net. Tennis is a derivative of lots of other sports, such as “jeu de paume,” a handball game played in France, said JT Buzanga, the collections manager at the International Tennis Hall of Fame museum.

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But tennis became a patented, official sport in 1874, said Steve Flink, a journalist whose tennis coverage got him inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. It has retained its unique, mysterious scoring system ever since.

“By and large, the original system has held up almost entirely,” Flink said.

The use of “love” goes back to the late 18th century, said Jesse Sheidlower, a lexicographer. But it was used earlier than that in card games such as whist and bridge. Before the term made its way to tennis, the sport favored plain old “nothing,” or “nil,” he said.

Why love in the first place, though? Historians don’t really know for sure, but there are a few theories.

The French could have something to do with it. Some historians believe “love” derives from “l’oeuf,” which means “the egg” in French. Because eggs are shaped like zeros, terms such as “goose egg” and “duck’s egg” have been used in other contexts to mean zero, Sheidlower said.

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It’s also possible English speakers mispronounced l’oeuf as “love.” But Sheidlower isn’t convinced that’s the answer.

“It’s the French equivalent of an English expression. But since that expression doesn’t appear in French, the French word wouldn’t have been used,” he said.

To be sure, France has had a lot of influence on tennis culture, Buzanga said. For example, “deuce” or a game tied at 40 points, comes from the French word for “two”: “deux.” But he prefers another prominent theory: that “love” comes from the idiom “for the love of the game.” Even if a player hasn’t scored, it doesn’t matter, because their heart is in it. It’s the theory Sheidlower said is the most plausible, because the idiom was used by the English before tennis was popularized.

Another variation of the “love of the game” theory is that the word could have come from the Dutch “lof,” or “honor” — or the Latin “amare,” meaning “to love,” Flink said.

But if tennis’ “love” doesn’t come from a French word, the theory at least has a French sensibility.

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“I think the ‘for the love of the game’ is kind of romantic,” Buzanga said.

“Love” probably isn’t going anywhere

Tennis used to be a sport of leisure. The style of play has changed a lot over the years; players are more athletic and competitive, for instance, Flink said. But the rules of the sport are more steadfast, he said.

“There’s this incredible, enduring respect for tradition in tennis,” he said. “Changes are not made easily.”

There has been one major change in modern history: the tie-break. Matches can go on and on because players have to score two consecutive points to break a deuce, or by two games to break a tied set. But the onset of television meant matches would have to get shorter if the sport wanted to capture a larger audience, Flink said.

Change even came for “love.” An alternative sprouted up in the 1970s, and is still used today: “bagel,” named for its zero shape, Sheidlower said. Novices may say “zero,” and insiders will understand what they mean, but they “will needle them about it,” Flink said.

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But “love” still prevails.

“People kind of like it,” Flink said. “It’s different. Why say zero when you can say love?”

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With Highway 1 open, Big Sur braces for its busiest summer in years

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With Highway 1 open, Big Sur braces for its busiest summer in years

On a 75-mile cliff-hugging stretch of highway in California, traffic is way up, despite soaring gas prices. And locals expect the busiest summer in years.

The road is Highway 1 in Big Sur, which reopened in January after three years of repair and reconstruction following a pair of landslides. Drivers can once again embark on the state’s most famous road trip, covering the 100 miles between Cambria to the south and Carmel to the north without leaving the two-lane coastal highway. And they’re heading out in big numbers.

Caltrans estimates that as of May, Big Sur restaurant and retailer guest counts are up 40% from last year, and that northbound traffic at Ragged Point, the southern gateway to Big Sur, has risen 900% year-over-year.

People pose for photos near Bixby Bridge. Monterey County’s Board of Supervisors voted to explore a 12-month ban on parking around the bridge.

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Safety cones prevent parking along Coast Road near the Bixby Bridge.

Safety cones prevent parking along Coast Road near the Bixby Bridge.

“Take your time,” said Kirk Gafill, co-owner of the popular Nepenthe restaurant and president of the Big Sur Chamber of Commerce, offering advice to travelers. “You’re going to be sharing the road with a number of people.”

As travelers rediscover the road, the cost of driving has been shooting skyward. California’s average gas price ($6.11 per gallon as of May 26) is up 26% from the year before. In early April, rates hit $9.99 at the isolated gas station in the Big Sur community of Gorda.

For spring and summer travelers, these numbers would seem to pose a stark question: Stay home and save money, or head for the coast because the road is finally open and it’s still cheaper than flying?

So far, the latter answer is winning big.

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Fog lingers off the coast of Highway 1.

Fog lingers off the coast of Highway 1.

“We are definitely seeing a huge uptick in our reservations,” said Megan Handy, assistant general manager at the upscale Treebones resort. She estimated that bookings are 30% or more ahead of last year, and rates are unchanged since then. But “it’s still not feeling super crowded, which is nice. Everything still feels kind of calm.”

But added traffic has raised some anxiety. On May 19, Monterey County’s Board of Supervisors voted to explore a 12-month ban on parking at Bixby Bridge, one of the region’s top photo spots.

Over the years, the number of cars parking near the bridge — often illegally, sometimes impeding emergency vehicles — has risen. The proposed parking moratorium won’t take effect until the supervisors discuss it further.

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Busy as things are, several business owners pointed out that many international travelers have not yet returned — perhaps because most make their plans more than six months ahead, perhaps because of global politics, perhaps a little of each.

The biggest challenge for businesses during this resurgence? “Restaffing and retaining,” said Handy at Treetops.

At Nepenthe, Gafill said his business has seen a 45% boost in guest volume since the road’s reopening. Gafill said he would have expected a 35% pickup, “simply by virtue of reopening the highway.” The additional 10%, he said, might be “all that pent-up demand,” aided by “a very beautiful and very dry winter,” followed by a mild spring.

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A lunch crowd dines at popular restaurant Nepenthe.

A lunch crowd dines at popular restaurant Nepenthe.

Another possible factor: Nobody can be sure how long the road will remain open.

To cope with the influx of people, Gafill said, “everybody is trying to recruit and retain their existing staff.”

At the Ragged Point Inn, where rates dropped as low as $149 nightly last fall, rates are back over $200 and staffers are suggesting that customers book at least six months ahead. The inn has reopened its snack bar for the first time since early 2023, and management is investing in capital upgrades and staging live music on weekends throughout the summer.

Business “is up over 100%,” said Diane Ramey, whose family owns the inn. “I know not all of our neighbors are having the same lift, but everybody is doing better.”

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Traffic approaching Bixby Bridge.

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A visitor poses in an oversized chair at Big Sur River Inn.

A visitor poses in an oversized chair at Big Sur River Inn.

Even at the New Camaldoli Hermitage, a Benedictine monastery above Lucia, the road’s reopening and coming summer season have made a difference. Bookings are up an estimated 30% at the hermitage, which rent rooms and cottages (for two nights or more) to visitors who agree to its requirement of silence.

Big Sur business owners advise visitors to travel on weekdays for less traffic and the best hotel rates, and to get on the road as early as possible.

Since its opening in 1937, the highway has been vulnerable to landslides and shifting ground, operating on a longstanding cycle of landslide, closure, repair, reopening and then another landslide, or sometimes a fire. The U.S. Geological Survey has identified the Big Sur coastline as one of the most landslide-prone areas in the western United States. The 2023-2026 closure was the longest in the highway’s history.

Over time, road crews have used increasingly sophisticated strategies. In the most recent efforts, Caltrans said, it used drones to help survey the slopes and remotely operated bulldozers and excavators to reduce risks to workers.

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During the closure, no traffic was allowed on 6.8-mile span from just north of Lucia until about a mile south of the Esalen Institute. Drivers detoured inland by way of U.S. 101.

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