Instructions: Texans love their barbecue; Southerners, their biscuits and fried chicken.

But few culinary traditions rival the importance of the chili pepper in the everyday lives of New Mexicans.

Three hundred years after Spanish settlers adopted the native ingredients of beans, corn, squash, and chili peppers, folks still threaten to put "Red or Green" (referring to the preferred variety of chili) to a state referendum.

For every chili-head who thinks the green is the hotter chili of the two, theres another who claims the fire is in the red. The astute avoid the highly charged question altogether, and order enchiladas "Christmas," or smothered with equal amounts of red chili sauce and green.

In late summer, when the years crop of green chilies are sold, roasted, and frozen, the cultural dominance of the pepper is impossible to ignore. Dusty rigs rattle up the state highway from the southern town of Hatch, park in supermarket lots, and haul out sack after burlap sack of bright green chilies as long as a hand.

Customers line up before the sun has warmed the day, checking their progress by peeking over chili-filled shopping carts in Jackalope, NM. Roasters pull on thick suede mitts, hook gas tanks to charred metal roasting bins, and spark a flame.

Hot air shimmers, redolent with toasted chili. Burning is good. After a few minutes under a hellishly hot flame, the chilies crackle and spit seeds onto the pavement. Flecks of charred pepper skin stick to beards and hairdos. After eight minutes, the roaster kills the gas and waits for the spinning bin to slow. Then he opens the latch and scoops hot, limp chilies into cardboard cartons lined with heavy-duty garbage bags.

Customers heed the signs to "tip your roaster" and money and chilies are exchanged. The plastic sacks weigh roughly 20 pounds and are hot to the touch. Strapping boys and elderly men alike grab the bags by the necks and lug them to their cars.

Once home, they will pick up each pepper by the stem, place a hand firmly around its body, and pull the loose skin right off the flesh. (Novice skinners should use plastic gloves to protect their hands from chili oil, which can cause the skin to burn and itch.)

Most chili addicts cant finish the process without slitting at least one chili and stuffing it with a slice of melting cheese. Once the job is done (an experienced hand can shuck a bushel in an hour) they pat the chilies dry, pack them in Ziploc bags, and freeze them for enjoyment throughout the year.

Though New Mexican green chilies rank as "mild" on the chili heat index, a bushel (10 to 12 quart-sized freezer bags) may still seem like an awful lot. But not in New Mexico, where the chili pepper is a condiment, side dish, and main course. A month of eating green chili jelly, sauce, and stew is just a warm up for New Mexicos signature dish, Chilies Rellenos.

Those who indulge in green chilies stuffed with cheese, rolled in an egg batter, and fried in a cast iron skillet will wish theyd bought two bushels this year, or maybe even three.

Green chili roasting can be observed all over New Mexico. In Santa Fe, the hot spots are The Furrs parking lot on Saint Michaels Rd., The Albertsons lot in DeVargas mall, and the Wild Oats parking lot on St. Francis Rd (Hwy 285). There is also chili roasting every Saturday in season at the Santa Fe Farmers Market in the old Santa Fe railroad rail yards off Guadalupe St.

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