Sunday, July 31, 2011

The salsa affair

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a sucker for salsa. I inhale the stuff. When my family goes out to Mexican, the waiters know to bring me my own bowl of the spicy deliciousness.

One of my niece's early phrases was "that's Becky's salsa," which was often followed by "this is my salsa" (for the mild, because, really, who eats that stuff)? Okay, okay, it probably wasn't that early of a phrase, but she learned young that you don't touch Aunt Becky's salsa.

I can be picky about my salsa. Call me a salsa snob, if you will. There are good salsas and there are bad not-so-great salsas. It should be a mix of tomatoes, spices, and heat. Sometimes it's red, other times it's green.  In Mexico, it has clumps. In Ecuador, it's blended smooth (ahi, and my foodie heart belongs to it most of all).

Bland and over-preserved, I abhor most packaged salsas. Where's the heat, the fire that will roast my tongue?  I settle on bottled salsas when I must, for meals like nachos.  I prefer to beg the people nearest and dearest to me to buy my favorite salsa and bring it to me when they come visit (3 Margaritas, I heart you).

However, I have a new love...and it's close!  By close, I mean, I can drive to the Walmart and pick it up, instead of driving 40+ minutes (or 2 hours, depending on where I'm currently staying) to pick up Mad Max's Suicide Salsa.

Marketside Fresh Garden with a habanero kick...I love you.  The package claims to be small batch made, so heat variations occur.  I know this is true, as the second container of salsa was noticeably hotter than the first.  But,  I don't care.  It's actually hot, each and every time.  And tasty, not bitter, like a lot of the hotter salsas.  I'm just praying that this doesn't disappear from the shelves in the next month or two.

I will cry.  Real tears.

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