Jimmy Nardello Pepper

In 1887, Giuseppe and Angela Nardello left the village of Ruoti in Basilicata, the mountainous, rural heart of southern Italy, and sailed to Naugatuck, Connecticut. They brought what Italian immigrants always brought: family, faith, and seeds.

Among those seeds was a long, thin-skinned frying pepper that the family had grown in Ruoti for as long as anyone could remember. The Nardellos raised eleven children in Connecticut, and the pepper came with them through every season, every garden, every generation. Jimmy Nardello — the fourth child — became the family's seed keeper. He grew the pepper for decades, maintaining the line his parents had carried across the ocean.

Before his death in 1983, Jimmy passed his seeds to the Seed Savers Exchange in Decorah, Iowa. SSE preserved the variety and listed it in their 1995 catalog as a "From the Collection" variety — their designation for seeds of particular historical and genetic significance. That listing saved the Jimmy Nardello pepper from vanishing.

In 2005, the Slow Food Foundation added it to the Ark of Taste, their international catalog of heritage foods worth protecting. It joined a list that includes centuries-old cheeses, heritage livestock breeds, and wild-harvested foods — the kind of company a frying pepper from Basilicata deserves.

Today, Jimmy Nardello is the most famous Italian frying pepper in America. Not because of marketing. Because it's that good.

Long, slender fruits — typically 8–10 inches, occasionally reaching 12 inches — thin-walled, wrinkled, and slightly twisted. They ripen from green to a deep, glossy red that looks almost lacquered. The skin is paper-thin. The flesh is sweet. The heat is zero — 0 SHU, a true sweet pepper.

The flavor raw is pleasant — sweet, mild, grassy. But Jimmy Nardello was not bred to be eaten raw. Drop one in a skillet with olive oil and something magical happens. The thin walls blister and collapse in seconds. The sugars caramelize. The skin crisps to the point where it almost shatters. What comes out of the pan is sweet, smoky, slightly charred, and so intensely flavored that people who've never grown a pepper before will plan next year's garden around it.

This is the pepper that makes cooks understand why Italian varieties exist — not because they're exotic, but because they were shaped by centuries of knowing exactly what a pepper is supposed to do in a kitchen.

Fried: The defining preparation. Heat olive oil in a skillet, drop in whole peppers, press flat with a spatula. Cook until blistered, charred in spots, and collapsed — 2–3 minutes per side. Finish with flaky salt. This is the dish that made the variety famous.

Grilled: Whole over open flame until the skin chars and the flesh softens. Serve alongside grilled sausage or on crusty bread with fresh mozzarella.

Roasted: Toss with olive oil, spread on a sheet pan, roast at 425°F. They caramelize beautifully and shrink into intensely sweet, almost jam-like bites.

Dried: The thin walls dehydrate perfectly. String them up Italian-style and dry them for winter — grind into sweet pepper flakes or rehydrate for cooking.

On Pizza: Blistered Nardellos draped over a Margherita pizza. Trust us.

We grow in soil and season with attention to flavor and health of the plant. Ask us what we're harvesting this week.