The Fresno Chili: A Hidden Gem in the World of Peppers

I initially came into the Fresno chili in downtown Los Angeles at B.S. Taqueria. Tucked into a meal of rice and beans—puffed rice, gently fried white and garbanzo beans, grilled onions, and cotija cheese—all packed into a brown paper bag that rapidly soaked through with grease. But the chilis, with their delicate sweetness, hint of smoke, and just enough heat to keep things interesting, drew the whole meal together. They were simply pleasantly present, not overwhelming. Intrigued, I questioned: Why had I not before heard about Fresno chili?

Chef-owner of B.S. Taqueria, Ray Garcia, referred to them as a “gateway chili.” Though familiar, they were just unusual enough to stand out and were easy to consume. “People think they know about Fresnos, but nobody really does,” he remarked. And the more I studied it, the more I came to see he was correct.

A Chili Named After Fresno—but Not Quite

Fresno chile take their name from Fresno County, not especially the city itself. Grower and seed seller Clarence “Brownie” Hamlin of Clovis, a tiny town close to Fresno developed them in the 1950s. Fresnos are quite flexible, just like other chili plants are. Chilis self-pollinate, hence new hybrids over generations can be produced with a little human intervention—swabbing one flower with another. Hamlin developed the Fresno chili just this way.

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Though they have strong agricultural roots in the Central Valley of California, Fresnos are sometimes confused with jalapeños in supermarkets. Usually approximately 5,000 Scoville heat units—spicy enough to be obvious but nowhere near the extreme heat of today’s “stunt” peppers like the Carolina Reaper or the Trinidad Scorpion—they have a similar form and heat level. Unlike jalapeños, however, Freskos are perfect for frying, roasting, and pickling of their thinner walls.

A Forgotten Chili in a Land of Produce

It turned up somewhat tough to find more details about the Fresno chili. There were few internet resources. Calls to Fresno’s agricultural groups went un answered. Not even the Fresno Historical Society offered anything of commentary.

And then availability became a problem. Unlike other often used peppers—jalapeños, serranos, or bell peppers—fresnos were not a consistent grocery staple. You were not sure you would locate them on the shelf. At the same time they were everywhere and nowhere.

Given the agricultural predominance of Fresno County, this appeared strange. The area generates a startling volume of processed tomatoes, walnuts, grapes, and pistachios in addition to 85% of America’s carrots, 90% of its raisins and almonds. Why was a chile bearing its name not more often celebrated?

The Resurgence of the Fresno Chili

Looking for someone more knowledgeable, I came upon veteran California pepper farmer Craig Underwood. Until lately, he grew all the jalapeños for Huy Fong Foods, the firm behind Sriracha. Now, mostly because to demand, he was planting more Freskos than ever before. Fresnos stayed smooth and aesthetically pleasing, unlike red jalapeño that often show skin fissures, which made them simpler to market.

Still, were there Fresno farmers raising Freskos? Underwood lacked clarity. Most of the valley’s territory was now covered in almonds and other cash crops.

Driven to learn, I flew to Fresno. There I met Vincent Ricchiuti, whose family has been farmers in the vicinity since 1914. Ricchiuti had just laid almost 11,000 Fresnos—a field. The appeal to him went beyond their gentle heat and smoky-sweet taste to include their relationship to the location he lived in. “That’s the most typical Fresno thing,” he remarked. “We’re not even celebrating this lovely cuisine named after us. It is just here.”

Ricchiuti referred me in the direction of Kong Thao of Thao Family Farms another producer. From heirloom tomatoes to bok choy, Thao and his family raise an amazing range of produce; yet, he had lately begun growing Fresnos. “We decided to raise them since we live in Fresno,” he stated.

Thao observed that produced in the county that bears its namesake, the Fresno chili has a distinctive taste. Fresno’s hot, dry environment generates a smaller, more strongly flavored pepper than those cultivated in California coast.

Chefs Are Rediscovering the Fresno Chili

Though its cultural roots are not as strong as those of the Italian long pepper, Thai bird’s eye chili, or Mexican serrano, chefs are loving the Fresno chili’s flexibility. Originally working at Osteria Mozza in Los Angeles, Jimmy Pardini, who manages The Annex Kitchen in Fresno, first came onto Fresno chilis. Finding the name of his hometown on a menu shocked him. “I considered, “Fresno Fresno?” From where is the place I live?

Owning Osteria Mozza, Chef Nancy Silverton favors the Fresno for its harmony of spice and sweet taste. She chops it raw into bean salads, pickles it, even combines it into a chili pesto, for pizza toppings. She does, however, admit that the Fresno chili is a bit of a “lost soul,” a newcomer devoid of a long-standing gastronomic heritage.

Pardini thinks this is the reason Fresnos have not become more popular. Many chilis have strong cultural ties; families carry down customs involving pepper-growing across several generations. But fresnos? They are still trying to fit in the food universe.

The Future of the Fresno Chili

The fact that the Fresno chili’s tale is still developing makes it fascinating. Unlike peppers connected to certain cuisines spanning millennia, the Fresno is an open book. Its identify is not set in stone.

A few days after getting back from my trip, I happened into a Fresno chili plant in a nursery close by. It had been mixed in with the jalapeños and serranos, as if by accident; the cashier could not even determine a price for it. She charged one dollar for it.

Right now, my backyard features a tiny green Fresno chili. It will shortly ripen and turn red. When it does, I will save its seeds, replace them next year, and continue the tale of the Fresno chili. It’s a small bit of California’s past waiting to be unearthed, not only a pepper.