
Back over the summer, I went on a canning binge. I canned salsas and jams, pickled cauliflower and onions, and also did a few jars of roasted peppers. I’d never done them before, so I was sort of worried–I love roasted peppers, and we go through jar upon jar of them, but there are a lot of brands I don’t like. What if these were gross? I made them anyhow, though, and since they were special roasted peppers, they got put in the pantry and ignored for six months.
We finally had reason to break into the stash, though. And by “reason”, I mean that I’d run out and didn’t want to go to the store. So we opened the first jar and had some with our supper that night, and they were amazing. Later that week, we went over to the house of some friends, and we took with us some of our peppers. There was an wonderful spread for supper that night–salami, mozzarella, olives, and artichoke hearts from the store, roasted peppers and marinated mushrooms from our summer canning, and dilly beans, pickled onions, and spicy green tomatoes from theirs.
We’re down to about two jars of peppers, and I’m wishing that I’d made more–these are far, far better than the kind you can buy. Even the brine is delicious–I was drizzling it onto my bread the other night.
This recipe makes about eight pints. I suggest doubling it, frankly. Next summer I’m going to wait until the farmer’s market is closing for the day, then I’ll pick up as many peppers as I can carry and head home to roast and can them.
Just like every other time you’ve canned things, (or read about me canning them,) you have to start by sterilizing your jars. You can do this in one of two ways: boiling them for a while (ten minutes, probably, but I always get distracted and leave them in there for half an hour) or by putting them in a cold oven, turning the oven to 300, and then letting the jars hang out for fifteen minutes or so after the oven’s come to temperature. The lids and rings of the jars need to be sterilized, too. Drop them in a small pot of boiling water, let them boil ten minutes, and then leave them in the water until you need them.
After you’ve filled the jars, they’ll need to be processed. This sounds scary but is actually really easy, plus other people find it very impressive. All you will need for this is an enormous pot with something to keep the jars off the floor of the pot. I use a pasta pot, the kind with the holey insert. Fill this pot most of the way with water and bring it to a boil as you roast the peppers.
Here’s what you need:
4 pounds peppers, any color and any heat. I used red, orange, and yellow bell peppers, plus two poblanos that I had in the fridge.
1 c lemon juice
2 c white vinegar
1 Tbsp fresh oregano
1 c olive oil
1/2 c chopped onions
garlic, 1/2 clove per jar, peeled and cut in half
salt
First we have to roast the peppers. If you have an outdoor grill, you can just throw them on that, turning occasionally, until their skins are black and charred. If you don’t have an outdoor grill, you can do them in the broiler by cutting them in half, removing the seeds and pith, and placing them cut side down on a baking tray. Either put them under the broiler or into a very hot (450F) oven, watching them carefully, until the skins are blackened.
Once your skins are blackened and your kitchen is moderately smokey, either put the peppers into a paper bag or put a damp towel over them and let them cool. The paper bag and towel make them easier to peel. Once they’re cool enough to handle, seed them if you didn’t before, then strip the blistered skin off of them–it should peel off in strips. It’s okay if you can’t quite get every scrap of skin. Don’t rinse the peppers if you can possibly avoid it.
Cut the peppers into strips, or smush down the halves until they’re flat. Set them aside.
Mix all other ingredients save for the garlic and salt in a saucepan and heat them to boiling. As that comes to a boil, put one half clove of garlic and 1/4 tsp salt (for half-pints; 1/2 tsp for pints) into the jars, then pack the jars full of peppers. Make sure that the oil and vinegar mixture is well blended, then pour it over the peppers, leaving 1/2″ headspace. Put on the lids and tighten the rings.
Hard part’s over!
Now for the processing. Remember the big pot of boiling water from earlier? You’re going to very carefully put the jars in. My pot can only handle four jars at a time–you can’t stack them, and you need the water to be over their tops. (This may mean that you have to add more water with each batch if you’re canning a whole bunch of jars.) Once the water comes back to a boil, set the timer for twenty minutes. (Same length for half-pints and pints. It’s okay if you go a little over–I often get distracted and things process an extra five minutes or so.) When the timer dings, pull the jars out of the water bath using either tongs or a silicone oven mitt.
Let the jars cool on the counter. You’ll hear them sealing as the night goes on–Ping! Ping! Sometimes they’re really loud, other times they’re barely noticeable. Don’t worry too much about it.
When morning rolls around, check your jars to make sure that they’ve sealed. The little button in the middle of the lid should have popped down–if it goes down when you press on it, the jar didn’t seal properly. This isn’t a huge deal, and the peppers are perfectly fine to eat, but they won’t be shelf-stable. Which means that darn, you’ll have to eat them right away.
I’ll say it again: these are delicious. Far, far better than any pre-made roasted peppers you can buy, and probably cheaper as well. Next summer I’ll put up twice as many, if not more, and probably do several jars of hot peppers as well–and I won’t wait six months to start eating them.

Your liquid sounds delicious!
You mention farmers’ market peppers – but I keep finding that locally grown bell peppers are thinner fleshed and not as tasty. This is not true for you?
I haven’t had that problem, either with peppers from local markets (some of which are actually farmer’s markets and, you know, grown their own, some of which are not) or from the peppers that I grew–to be honest, the ones that I grew seemed to be thicker fleshed and somewhat less juicy than the commercially grown ones.