chili peppers originated in mesoamerica, where people have been eating them for at least ten thousand years. late in the fifteenth century, they reached europe on the ship of the celebrated rapist, thief, and murderer christopher columbus. their dispersion across asia and africa began shortly thereafter, primarily via portuguese traders. there are more than two dozen species of chili, but if you’ve got one in mind right now it’s quite likely capsicum annum. this one species produces almost every pepper you can find in stores, from bell peppers to jalapeños. as such, should you encounter a new strain of capsicum annum, it's wise to ask how spicy is it? when it comes to the padrón pepper, my personal favorite, the answer is a spirited yes.

about a hundred years after colombus, franciscan monks brought capsicum annum seeds from the tabasco region of méxico to a galician town called padrón, where the species took well to the acidic soil of northwestern spain. selective breeding gradually transformed these peppers into a distinct cultivar, prized for its superb taste and texture. most are as mild as bell peppers, but a small fraction are intensely spicy—an amusing trait memorialized in the popular saying that adorns this site in galician, spanish, and its canonical english mistranslation.

several environmental and genetic factors are thought to affect which plants produce spicy peppers and when. it's far from random, and farmers of the pepper could surely keep the spicy ones separate, but that would be a little like making fortune cookies with no fortune. turning each tapa to a round of russian roulette is an essential part of this delicacy. the recipe is simple: padrón peppers are best when fried in olive oil, sprinkled with coarse salt, and eaten with mortal fear.