If New Mexico could have one state food, it would be the green chile cheeseburger, with each restaurant, diner and roadhouse cafe claiming to have the ultimate version.It was a scorching early August day in New Mexico and I was heading south on the I-25, up and over rolling desert hills skirting the mighty Rio Grande River under a sky of endless blue. My destination was Hatch: a tiny village in the river’s valley, 70 miles north of the Mexican border, where a distinct aroma of sizzling fresh green chiles laces the air come harvest time, which had just begun.When I arrived and got out of the car, I was hit by a smoky scent that I soon traced to the nearby Grajeda Hatch Chile Market, one of many brightly painted chile purveyors dotting Franklin Street, the village’s main road. Here, I stood and watched for a while, transfixed, at the prized local ingredient tumbling in rotisserie-style roasters over roaring gas flames. A deafeningly loud and hot spectacle, necessary to scorch and loosen the chile skin to bring out the flavour before they're peeled, chopped and then roasted or turned into sauces.