South Philly-Style Roasted Long Hots

When people think of Philly food, they jump to the usual suspects: our beloved cheesesteak, or—my personal favorite—the juicier roast pork. But the thing that ties those sandwiches together, the thing I dream about, forked over crusty bread with a drizzle of oil and a pinch of flaky salt, isn't the meat. It's the long hots. Those shiny, wrinkled green peppers are the city's most humble power move: a simple topping that turns a good sandwich into a great one. 

But this Philly icon is not just for sandwiches. I grew up with long hots on the Sunday table—right next to sharp provolone and the olives. They're a fixture at the sandwich counter and a beloved ingredient on menus across Philly. DiNic's and John's Roast Pork keep them in rotation because Philadelphians know a truth that rarely makes postcards: Long hots make the bite.

What Exactly Are Long Hots?

If you're new to long hots, here's the quick primer: They're slender Italian peppers that range in heat from "mild flirtation" to "OK, I'm sweating now," and you can't tell which one you drew until you take a bite. That roulette is part of the fun.

You'll often see them labeled simply as long hots, but they might appear as Italian long hot peppers or green finger hots. They're usually sold fresh in big bins at Italian markets, at farmers' markets during the summer, and at well-stocked supermarkets. If you can't track them down, look for other slender, medium-hot green peppers—Fresno or Anaheim peppers can stand in, though their flavor is a little different.

In Philly, they're most often fried in olive oil until wrinkled and deeply flavored or roasted until they slump and blister. Either way, they're served whole, skin and seeds intact. In my version, I go the roasting route. High heat softens the peppers, browns them in spots, and coaxes out their natural sweetness while keeping their edges smoky and savory.

The One Thing You Have to Do First: Confit the Garlic

Before I can even talk about roasting the peppers, their garlic-oil flavor base needs to be established. Too many home recipes tell you to just toss whole garlic cloves onto the sheet pan with the peppers, as if they'll magically soften and perfume the dish in the same 20 minutes it takes for the peppers to blister. But preparing them that way doesn't really add much flavor-wise: The peppers come out roasted and delicious, while the garlic usually ends up half-raw, harsh, and chewy. Instead of sweet, mellow richness, you get a sharp bite that distracts from everything else.

My solution is to give the garlic the time it deserves with a slow confit. I smash and peel eight cloves, submerge them in half a cup of good extra-virgin olive oil, and bring the pot to the barest simmer. Not a fry, not a sizzle, just tiny bubbles lazily working their way around the edges. Over 20 to 30 minutes, the cloves soften completely, turning pale tan, buttery, and sweet all the way through. Off the heat, I slip in a sprig of rosemary to infuse while the oil cools, because why wouldn't I? The result is twofold: The garlic transforms into a spreadable, mellow condiment in its own right, and the oil becomes deeply seasoned, carrying all that flavor into the peppers. No bitter, undercooked cloves here, just the silky garlic and fragrant oil that are the foundation of great long hots.

Roasting the Peppers

Once the garlic is ready, the peppers get their turn. The oven needs to be hot—450ºF—with the rack placed near the top. I toss the long hots with a few spoonfuls of the infused oil and a good sprinkle of kosher salt, spreading them out so they roast rather than steam. After 20 to 30 minutes, they're slumped and browned in spots, with a fragrance that could pull anyone straight back to a South Philly sandwich counter.

This combination of low-and-slow garlic confit and high-and-fast pepper roasting is the heart of the technique. One brings sweetness and complexity; the other builds smoky depth. Together, they create Philly-worthy long hots.

The Finishing Touch

The peppers come out of the oven already good, but finishing them properly is what makes them great. I spoon the confited garlic over top, drizzle everything with more of that garlic- and rosemary-infused oil, and add a splash of red wine vinegar. That vinegar is non-negotiable for me. It sharpens the flavors and balances the richness.

They're simple but bold, not an afterthought but a staple for roast pork sandwiches, alongside antipasti, or served straight from the jar with bread. Long hots bring depth, occasional heat, and garlic-laced richness, making whatever they touch taste more amazing. So take the time to confit the garlic, roast the peppers hot, and finish with vinegar. That's all it takes to re-create the long hots I grew up with—soft, glossy, and precisely what your sandwich has been missing.