Salsa a la Alexander!

Fresh, fresh, FRESH Salsa

An Ode to, a Reach for, Summer

Hello, my friends, and welcome to January in Chicago, IL.

Last Friday, it was -17 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and that was before the thrashing, freezing, maiming, violent assault of wind chill.

I need some summer in my life.

In the summer of 2005, right before my senior year of high school, Stuart Alexander and I rekindled our friendship. "Wanna come over and lay on the grass in the sun?" I asked. He did. I made tuna salad sandwiches. And he brought chips and salsa. His dad's homemade salsa.

Ever since that fateful day, John Alexander's salsa makes its way into my family's possession every summer. Stuart is barely allowed into our house unless he is toting a container of this magical chunky elixir of tomatic deliciousness. He brings it as an offering to the shrine that is our fridge. This causes not too much of an imposition, however, as John makes this salsa by the margarita bucket.

Yeah, margarita bucket. Besides the salsa, buckets of margarita define Indiana summers.

Here is that glorious recipe:

1 red onion

1 red bell pepper

3 banana peppers

2 jalapenos

1/2-1 habenero

Cilantro (leaves of 1 bunch)

Parsley (leaves of 1/4-1/2 bunch)

4 cans whole, peeled tomato (trust me on the canned thing, fresh don't work the same)

2 T. fresh garlic

Coarse salt

1 t. celery salt

1/2 t. cayenne pepper

1/2 t. chili powder

(You could, I suppose, add mango or peach to this, if fruity salsa is your thing...)

Here are the glorious components. (Minus the artichoke in the background.)

Oh yeah, baby. Come to mama.

Rinse your vegetables well. In cool water. Mmm, cool water. Like the cool water that fills a lake, or a swimming pool.The cool water that whisks away your coconut-scented suntan lotion. The cool water that dots your skin before it is dried by the hot, hot, hot, hot summer sun. Ugghhhhhh.

Chop up your parsley (left) and cilantro (right). I used flat-leafed parsley, but the curly stuff is fine. I'm pretty sure it's not called "curly-leafed" parsley, but you know what I mean.

Rinse your canned tomatoes in that same cool, refreshing water.

And begin to dice them.

Once through the center, then in rows, then in rows the other way.

You like zee pay-per? (Think Adam Sandler on SNL circa 1994.)

Make an incision around the stem of the pepper, like you do to pumpkins when you're carving them. Pull up to remove the stem.

Then slice the pepper into three or four sections down-ways.

I apologize pre-emptively for using this word...Remove the membrane. Eww.

Now that the membrane is taken care of, julienne (that's a nicer word, eh?) the pepper.

And dice.

Put on gloves beofre you behead your jalapenos! (Or plan on washing your hands REALLY well afterwards. And DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT have any sort of sexual contact! It burns...IT BURNS!! I know from experience, dudes.)

Slice them open!

And remove their membranes as well!

Julienne and dice, dice, dice.

Do this with all of your vegetables, and then force them to copulate in a bowl.

Roll your herbs into a ball, and chop chop chop!

Oh yeah, baby.

And dump 'em in!

Combine your spices in a small bowl.

And have fun and take cool photos as you swirl them together.

Stir those in, too, combining all of the components.

And a squeeze of lime...

OLE!!!! Your salsa is complete!!! Here it is sauteed with some egg whites, topped with sliced avacado, in a lightly fried corn tortilla.

SERVE WITH TEQUILA... OR A BUCKET OF MARGARITA.

Gracias, Alexander family, for the best salsa on Earth.

Adios, amigos!

Sophia