Chile Rellenos and the Love Language of Sitting Down Together
A memory of my grandmother, and why food is never just food
Food is tradition. It's culture, shared memory, and community. It's one of the most reliable ways human beings have ever found to say I love you without using those words.
I think that gets lost sometimes — especially in the wellness world, where food can quietly become something to manage, optimize, or feel complicated about. For a long time, working in fitness and yoga, I absorbed the idea that a disciplined, clinical approach to eating was part of the job. And for a while I believed it.
But I've come to see that a healthy relationship with food isn't restrictive. It's free. It's generous and welcoming. It looks a lot like my grandmother.
Christina
My abuela, Christina, was born in Managua, Nicaragua. She lived an extraordinary life and found her way to this country carrying everything she had — her history, her warmth, her recipes.
What I remember most about her isn't any single dramatic moment. It's something quieter than that. She had a way of sitting down with you — really sitting down, fully there — and just talking. Laughing. Enjoying the time together without any agenda. That was her love language. Presence. Attention. The ordinary made sacred by the fact that she was completely in it with you.
And she made chile rellenos, rice, tamales, enchiladas....
The chile rellenos version she made for me as a child was fried — golden, rich, filled with cheese, the kind of thing you eat slowly because you don't want it to end. I couldn't have refused them if I'd tried. I wouldn't have wanted to.
She passed in 2021, and this summer my family will gather to celebrate her life. I'll be thinking of her every time I make this dish.
A version worth making your own
The recipe I make now is charred rather than fried — poblano peppers blistered directly over flame, filled with cheese and veggies, served alongside green rice. It's lighter than the traditional version but no less satisfying. The smoky depth you get from charring the peppers is its own kind of magic.
I love this version because it honors the spirit of the dish without making it a production. It's accessible, it's beautiful, and it's the kind of thing you make when you want to sit down with the people you love and just be there with them.
Charred Chile Rellenos, How I make it
Start with fresh poblano peppers — one per person. Char them directly over a gas flame or under a broiler, turning until the skin is blackened on all sides. Once they're blistered all over, transfer them to a bowl, cover tightly, and let them steam for about ten minutes. The skin will slip off easily and the smoky depth of flavor will be remarkable.
While the peppers rest, make your green rice. Blend fresh cilantro, spinach, or both with a little broth until smooth, then use that as your cooking liquid. The color is beautiful and the flavor is subtle and herby — a perfect base for the richness of the peppers.
Once the peppers are peeled, make a careful slit down one side and remove the seeds. Fill each one generously with cheese — a melting variety like Oaxacan, Monterey Jack, or a mix of both. Close them gently. They don't need to be perfect.
From there you have options. A light egg coating and a quick pan sear gives you a delicate crust. Or simply nestle them into a baking dish and let the oven do the work until the cheese is molten and the peppers are tender all the way through.
Serve over the green rice. That's it.
A few notes from my kitchen:
Char the poblanos directly over a gas flame or under a broiler, turning until blackened on all sides. Let them steam in a covered bowl for ten minutes before peeling — the skin comes away easily and the smoky flavor deepens. Be generous with the cheese filling. Don't rush the rice.
And when it's ready — sit down. Put the phone away. Laugh about something. Be completely there.
That's the whole point.
The Charred Chile Rellenos with Green Rice from Rachael Ray is excellent and inspired the above recipe. For the full recipe, visit Food Network.
Para ti, abuela. Con todo mi amor.