Chipotle Madness

Are you familiar with the term ubiquitous? From the Latin ubique, meaning everywhere, it means essentially the same thing in English. The word is commonly used to describe things or phenomena frequently encountered, although not necessarily omnipresent, such as Starbucks locations in urban centers. Well, I'm not sure when or how this happened, but apparently Chipotle is now fully ubiquitous. I realized this while watching the news this evening, and during a single commercial break two different restaurants were promoting chipotle something-or-other.

Now, I'm in Prince Edward Island, which is not exactly on the leading edge of, well, pretty much anything that doesn't feature lobster, potatoes or Anne of Green Gables. So the fact that the reach of chipotle madness extends even here is telling. And while it may be telling, it's not especially informative, because all the chipotle advertising I have been subjected has neglected to give me any idea as to what chipotle actually is. I know that I ordered the baked chipotle bacon penne at Boston Pizza without knowing what exactly I was getting, because it sounded good. More so, I suspect that I'm not alone in this. I imagine that there are lots of people who, if they stopped to think about it, would have to scratch their heads and ask "What the heck is chipotle, anyway?"

To confirm this I conducted a couple of not remotely scientific polls on the subject — on Facebook and by asking people at work. I got a variety of responses, only one of which it turns out was correct. Some people said that sure, they knew what chipotle was, but they didn't actually say what it was. And while they might have known, well, it's also easy to claim that you understand quantum mechanics if you don't actually make any attempt to explain it. Among folks who offered an opinion as to what chipotle might actually be, the general theme was that chipotle was something spicy, maybe very spicy, or maybe only kinda spicy, and it was either Mexican or Texan, and was perhaps some sort of sauce.

In fact, when I started writing this article, chipotle didn't actually mean much to me. It was some sort of vague flavour somehow related to barbeque. And I was fairly certain that there was a restaurant chain called Chiptole Mexican Grill, which was presumably at or near the epicenter of all things chipotle. However, the fact that so many places were promoting chipotle thing-a-ma-jiggers, presumably without pending litigation, confirmed that chipotle was a flavour, and not a brand name.

Now, you might argue that it isn't important to know what a flavour is, or how it's made, so long as you like the flavour. And there is a certain truth to that. After all, to like Juicy Fruit gum, one doesn't need to know that the flavour is an artificial chemical, most likely isopentenyl acetate. But still, if I was going to order the baked chipotle bacon penne at Boston Pizza, I want to know what exactly was going to be on the plate.

It was time for some research. Actual research, using that most powerful, and ubiquitous, tool of the modern era — Wikipedia. What exactly is chipotle? And for that matter, what is the correct pronunciation? It turns out that both are pretty straightforward. The pronunciation is chi-POTE-lay (not chi-POLE-tay), and the item is actually a smoke-dried jalapeno pepper. It's Mexican, not Texan, and the flavour is mildly spicy and smokey. And the baked chipotle bacon penne at Boston Pizza is really very tasty. So now you know.