The big heat

Food: Smart cooks stick to just one or two chilli species

Not so long ago, it seemed we were in for a chilli invasion. Picking up from Santa Fe and the American line in Southwestern cooking, we were to have pale yellow "chawas", chocolate-coloured "chili pasillas", smoky "poblanos", and dimpled orange "manzanas".

I, for one, am breathing a sigh of relief that it never happened. Chillies are a fascinating group, but, en masse, the quest for fire smacked of fad. However, a better appreciation of chillies is to be welcomed.

There are so many chillies and derivative products, it is better to master the art of using just one or two types, rather than trying to get to grips with using a different chilli for every recipe you cook.

There are hundreds of varieties with differing characteristics, but, for the cook, the two essential qualities of fresh chillies consist of heat and flavour. Heat is the more widely documented of the two, and is quoted in Scoville units, named after Wilbur Scoville.

I am convinced that Scoville would have hung out with the likes of Hemingway in Havana in the dying days of the Batista regime, indulging in ritual feasts of prawns thrown live onto the grill, macerated shell-on, the debris indelicately spat around the bar floor. The Scoville unit has mucho machismo.

The unit is, by definition, the dilution required to reach the threshold of taste. In lay terms, the habanero or Scotch bonnet has 100,000-300,000 Scoville units, while that sweet, friendly pussycat the red bell pepper, has none at all.

The capsaicin, an oily substance, is present in the seeds and membranes. And, as anyone who has ever ignored the golden rule to wear rubber gloves when chopping chillies knows, once burnt, twice shy.

Some chillies are now marked with their heat scale, not in Scoville units, but as "mild", "hot" and "very hot". This is sensible labelling. I steer clear of hot habaneros in favour of the milder jalapenos, whose heat is easier to control. Habaneros enjoy cult status - if you like cooking with habaneros, you probably also enjoy diving backwards off a bridge.

A half or one level teaspoon of minced chilli will provide more than a real kick in a dish - it also adds a beautiful, rounded piquancy you cannot get from pepper. I find I opt increasingly for a little chilli over pepper, and not just in Eastern dishes, but in Mediterranean olive- oil-based recipes too.

Flavour comes in to play when chillies are used whole, in stews, braises and casseroles. But it is essential they are undamaged - otherwise the heat from the seeds and membranes will leak out. The idea is to extract their fragrance, which is subtle but quite defined - you then discard the chilli once it is cooked. The Mexicans would steep a whole bunch of them in the stew. That's know-how.

Likewise, when I am roasting vegetables, I have got into the habit, not only of tucking in a few garlic cloves here and there, but a couple of whole chillies as well - this will perfume the roasting juices, especially when slow-roasting tomatoes. Inside roast chicken with some herbs, that's another one.

When it comes to chilli by-products, I reckon Tabasco and cayenne pepper cover me for most eventualities. Cayenne pepper, or any other ground chilli powder, should be fresh - it is a spice and, as such, it deteriorates. It provides heat rather than flavour, but there are cooking times when only cayenne pepper will do.

I used to find it confusing that, as well as Tabasco, there is an enormous range of hot pepper sauces - : kick ass, red devil, mother of all sauces, etc, and, frankly, they all do the same thing. By all means collect them for kitsch value, but just one in the cupboard will see you through the next jug of Bloody Mary.

Aubergine Yam Tart, serves 4

This is a light tart: a base of crisp filo pastry layers with grilled aubergine slices dressed with a tart Thai dressing.

2 medium aubergines (approx. 1lb 4oz/550g)

extra virgin olive oil

sea salt, black pepper

8 sheets of filo pastry 9"/23cm x 12"/30.5cm

3oz/75g unsalted butter, melted

3 shallots, peeled and chopped

1 heaped tsp medium-hot, chopped fresh red chilli

2 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped

1 tbsp light soy sauce

1 tbsp water

2 tbsp lemon juice

1 tsp sugar

1 level tbsp sesame seeds, toasted in a dry frying pan

Slice the aubergines lengthwise 1/3"/0.75cm thick. Heat a griddle (or you could use a dry cast-iron frying pan), paint one side of the slices with olive oil and grill lightly until they begin to colour, but do not cook thoroughly. Paint the top side of the slices with oil and season, turn and grill likewise. Repeat with remaining slices and reserve.

Preheat the oven to 200C (fan oven)/210 (electric oven)/410F/Gas 6.5. Layer the filo sheets on a baking tray, painting each one generously with the melted butter. Lay the aubergine slices in rows on top of the filo pastry so the slices overlap lengthwise. Cook for 25 minutes until the filo pastry is golden and crisp and the aubergine nicely roasted. Remove and cool to room temperature.

While the tart is cooking, make the dressing: cook the shallot, chilli and garlic in a dry frying pan until limp and beginning to colour. Finely chop and blend with the soy sauce, water, lemon juice and sugar. Spoon the dressing over the tart immediately before serving, and scatter over the sesame seeds. Fennel a la Grecque, serves 4

I like the texture of fennel when it has been braised for quite a long time, till it's really succulent and tender.

4 fennel bulbs

12 pint/275ml water

5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

juice of 12 lemon

12 tsp salt

1 pinch of saffron filaments

1 shallot, peeled and finely chopped

6 parsley stalks

5 sprigs of thyme

1 fresh medium-hot fresh chilli (whole)

12 black peppercorns

14 tsp fennel seeds

6 coriander seeds

To serve:

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

lemon juice

sea salt, black pepper

3oz/75g black olives, pitted

1 beefsteak tomato, skinned, seeded and diced

Trim the fennel bulbs of their shoots and outer sheaves, and quarter or cut into six so they remain attached by the root. Make an aromatic broth by combining all the remaining ingredients (except those to serve) in a pan; contain the seeds in a small square of muslin. Bring the broth to the boil and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Add the fennel, bring back to the boil, cover the pan, turn the heat down low and simmer for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the fennel is very tender: a knife will insert with ease. Remove the fennel to a bowl and reduce the remaining liquor to several tablespoons. Strain reduced liquor over the fennel. Allow to cool. Add the remaining olive oil, sharpen with lemon juice, adjust seasoning and add the olives and tomato.

Potatoes with Onion in Olive Oil, serves 4

This is a spicy medley of potatoes and onions. You could serve it with a meaty fish such as tuna or swordfish, with grilled chicken, or as it is.

1lb 8oz/700g new potatoes

sea salt, black pepper

8 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

2 red onions, peeled, halved and sliced

2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced

1 heaped tsp fresh medium-hot red chilli, finely chopped

4 tbsp small parsley sprigs

2 tbsp red wine vinegar

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil. Slice the potatoes about 1/8"/0.25cm thick and rinse in a sink of cold water to remove starch. Cook the potatoes towards the end of cooking the sauce: boil them for 2 12 minutes, drain and arrange the slices on four large plates, then season with a salt and pepper.

Heat the olive oil in a medium-size saucepan and cook the onions for 6-8 minutes over a moderate heat until soft and beginning to caramelise at the edges, add the garlic and chilli halfway through, and the parsley a minute before the end. Add the vinegar and cook this off. Spoon over the potatoes and serve immediately