Chipotles for the Day

The recipe, itself, has always been a work in progress.  I no longer recall how it came about -- or how long ago -- but long ago we hit upon the idea of adding olives to burgers.  Not on them, but in them.  Minced fine and liberally stirred into the meat.  A few other things go in as well -- one kind of seasoning powder or another, Worcester sauce, perhaps a little barbecue sauce and/or liquid smoke.  Proportions have always been subjective, and from time to time the results have been as mixed as the ingredients. 

But more recently the "recipe" has plateaued.  We've gotten comfortable -- or satisfied, or perhaps just lazy.  So, when Merryl suggested earlier in the week that we find a date for olive burgers I looked forward to the usual fare.  Then, yesterday on the way to the store for the evening's grilling I felt a twitch toward innovation.  Perhaps it was just one of those occasional flashes of creativity, or perhaps a culinary push against the larger boredom I seem to be feeling of late; whatever, I began to brainstorm the possibilities.  Whatever it was, it would need to contribute rather than take over.  It wouldn't be another sprinkle.  Both onion and garlic sounded like roads too well-traveled. The answer, of course, was jalapeno.  Well, sort of.

Chipotles are smoked jalapenos that, canned, come basted in adobo sauce.  To the uninitiated, chipotles can be a deceptive experience, particularly in adobo.  Initially smoky with almost a hint of sweetness, there is a rather arresting surprise on the back side of each bite.  Arresting, and quite often quite literally breathtaking with a distinctively aromatic oral conflagration.  In the right proportion, it is wonderful.  Ah!  But how to know that "right" proportion?

After otherwise seasoning the meat with the usual and sundry, I minced the olives and then dumped the can of peppers and their sauce into the food processor to puree.  Beautifully smooth and thickly brown, I reached for a spoon...and hesitated.  How much?  A couple of anticipatory dollops and intercessory prayers later, the patties were smoking on the grill, and before long we were pushing our chairs back from the table with satisfied grins on our faces.  My private critique was that we could have used a spoon or two more.  A little fire, after all, is useful to light the way home.  All in all I would pronounce the experiment to be a success.

The lingering question for me is not a culinary one but rather a psychological one.  The burgers, themselves, were certainly good, but the best part of the experience was the curiosity, the imagination, and the consideration of all the possibilities and implications.  There was pulse in that planning; spark in that deliberation -- starting with what was already good and risking it for something potentially better.  Or, admittedly, incendiary.  Starting this day, then, in barely more than neutral, I've begun to wonder just what the chipotles might be for these hours at hand -- moments already fine, and even good; but gliding on plateau. 

Hmmm.  Good question.   And it's good to feel my pulse quicken in pursuit of an answer.