salsas

hot hotter hottest.

the declension of heat. I have been reading about salsas, including those made with chipotles, smoky and elusive, with avocados and corn, smooth and chalky in their formation, with green tomatillos, bitter, grassy with some heat of habineros. All are vibrant cousins, and an over the top flavors compared to the jars and tubs of salsa made some time yesterday.

I understand, in the mythology of food which has run rampant, that salsas are running ahead of ketchup in sales. Ketchup, the puree of tomatoes, with salt and vinegar a red line staple on top of hot dogs is being replaced by chunky tomatoes with chilis in some form on top of a taco, eggs, steak, shrimp, even grilled fish. Paired with fruit, mango salsa is a dynamo over pork, mixed with jalepenos, a puree infusion of salsa was a flavor in a martini I had recently.

Salsa dancing is a new fave, I have tried, not successfully, to learn. But the name! Salsa meaning: hot, choppy, bringing up heat, a condiment to the feet and the music as it were, to dancing. Waltzes, now maybe they are the ketchup of dance. And Tango is the mustard, to extend the spurious metaphor. But salsa implies that I can mix and match what I want for the beat, as long as I follow a recipe in a way: one part heat, one part texture, two parts fruit or acid. Dancing: one part sex, hip to hip, or gyrate in pairs, one part pattern of the feet in unison mirror-like: he goes forward, she goes back; and two parts sweaty bodies moving as fast as you can to the increasingly hot beat of the drums.

No wonder that both are popular. Salsa the condiment adds a topping, a frisson of flavor on top of germane foods. It invokes the other, the non Protestant, non traditional, back street world that is not European, not Anglo, and much, in fact, a hell of a lot more fun. We need more fun in our lives. Live a little. Forget the low salt, non carb, organic ketchup. Toss the environmentally appropriate companion planted mustard seed and dijion jar. Go for the home made, mortar ground tomatoes with hot and hotter chilies and for the hell of it throw in limes, onions, and cilantro. Why not? live a little and for salt content; get over it.

As for the dancing: a slight reversal. I grew up in the 70'80's do what you want on the floor dirty dancing style. Gyrate, move over, around, and through your partner and move in your own space. but Salsa demands working as a team, with the woman responsive to the pressure of a man's hand to move in the direction he wants. It is damn sexy to watch and harder to learn. I can't just go where I want, I have to wait, and follow, and then surrender to the hand. And until I get it, I only get asked once by the men as they figure out I am not really in synch. But I will keep trying as the lure of the paired sexuality is just so great. And the humbling of rejection of only being asked once is a good learning point. Sort of.

I am still the ketchup to their salsa, damn. But my heart is there, my moves are catching up, the heat is, and always has been there for the dance. Just a few more lessons.

Off to grind tomatoes and prep the peppers as I listen to the music.