“Damn! That smells good!” The woman said it out loud, with joy, as she entered Lowe’s grocery store and walked right by me.

I knew exactly what she was talking about, because I’d said the same thing in my head about 30 seconds earlier.

Thirty seconds later, I was standing by the source of the aroma, bags and boxes of Hatch green chile.

Our state legislature voted in 2023 on the official aroma of New Mexico: roasting green chile.

Well, there was no roasting going on this evening at Lowe’s, but those fresh green chiles were making the whole store smell great just sitting there.

More than a decade ago, our state legislature voted on another item, the state question. If you’ve lived in New Mexico for more than a few months, you can all recite along with me the state question: “Red or green?” Not long after legislators settled on the state question, they also voted on the official state answer: “Christmas.”

Another possible state on.” But I digress.

The answer “Christmas” is, of course, what you say to your restaurant server after they ask, “Red or green?” and you are ordering both red chile and green chile on your enchiladas, or burritos or stuffed sopaipillas, etc.

Christmas is also the feeling a true New Mexican gets upon seeing the arrival of the first bags of chile, and stores firing up the roasters in the parking lots. For many of us chile addicts, the return of chile creates the same excitement as waking up on Christmas morning for a little kid.

Also, when chile season comes, many of us find ourselves humming the old Andy Williams Christmas song, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”

In addition to the holiday spirit, we wrestle with many chile questions: Where will we buy our chile this year? How many bags will we get? Do we get Big Jim or Sandia? Do we get mild, medium or hot? When we freeze the chile, we will put it bags with three, five, 15 or 25 chiles? What do we need to throw out of the freezer to make room for the chile?

I grew up in Oklahoma, often eating my mom’s “nachos,” which consisted of her throwing Doritos on a cookie sheet, sprinkling canned green chile on them, grating some Colby Longhorn cheese over all of it and then baking it for 5-10 minutes. They were fine and served their purpose.

But when I moved to Alamogordo in 1995, and had fresh roasted green chile for the first time, I thought my mom had been lying to me all those years ago.

“This can NOT be the same thing she got out of a can,” I thought. The difference was as stark as the difference between canned Star Kist tuna and eating fresh-caught tuna in Hawaii.

No, my mom wasn’t lying to me. She would never do that. She was doing something loving for me, unknowingly preparing my palate for the glory that would come years later when I became a New Mexican.

I would not become a TRUE New Mexican for another decade after my arrival. You see, you cannot deem yourself a true New Mexican. That title must be bestowed upon you, similar to knighthood.

My knighting came in the unlikely venue of the McDonald’s just off of Interstate 25 in Truth or Consequences. Coming back from Albuquerque, I was tired and hungry. I stopped to gas up my vehicle, then went across the street to McDonald’s, which was unexpectedly busy for a Sunday afternoon.

The young man who waited on me (I know this was some years back, because someone actually waited on me; I didn’t have to order from an app or a kiosk. But I digress.) asked for my order.

I responded, “I’ll have a spicy chicken sandwich with green chile.”

He asked, “Do you want mayonnaise and lettuce on the sandwich?”

I said, “I really don’t care what else you put on it as long as you don’t forget the green chile.”

He grinned and said, “Spoken like a TRUE New Mexican.”

Instantaneously, a light shone on my face, orchestral music played and a red chile ristra wreath floated down and gently rested on my neck like an Olympic gold medal.

I should add that last part is not exactly true. After all, my mother taught me never to lie.

But damn! It sure felt good.

Richard Coltharp is editor and publisher of the Alamogordo News. He has worked as a journalist in Alamogordo and Las Cruces since 1995 and loves green chile so much he puts it on his apple pie. He can be reached at rcoltharp@elritomedia. com.