I am a Chile addict. More specifically, I am a New Mexico Hatch Green Chile addict. I have no shame in admitting that, nor do I have any plans of reforming. I’ve even gotten Poncho hooked on the stuff. So when August 1st came around, my mouth began to water, Pavlovian style, in the anticipation of acquiring my annual fix. So it was with a great deal of horror when I went to my source only to find all the Chile was taken. I guess I’m not the only addict in the area. I frantically searched online to see if there was any other dealer. Relief flowed through me when I found another outlet, then a bit of trepidation when I saw the location. Out on west Burnside in Portland. I hadn’t been in that area for at least ten years. But they had what I craved so I researched the terrain (i.e. looked them up on Google Maps) and made my way in. I was pleasantly surprised to see I had little to worry about from the locals. The biggest danger was coffee sipping moms stepping out in front of me. I made it to the store only to find I had to wait a half hour for the hot chilies to finish roasting. But now I could be patient. My fix was within sight. So I wandered the store. It must have been Hipster shopping day. Women in their yoga pants that left little to the imagination sporting their perfectly coiffed messy ponytails, and the men with their high and tight haircuts and fully grown out beards wearing short-sleeved plaid shirts with the tails untucked. The worse thing that could have happened was being accosted with a fresh baked baguette. When the chilies were finished and that beautiful smoky flavor was wafting in the air I bellied up to the table and made my request. The cook carefully weighed out my desired portion. Oh the joy of those little packets of love and flavor and heat. Now my salsa making endeavor can move forward. Yes, I am proud to say I am a Chile Addict.