A Tale Of Two Salsas

Ah, travel…  you’re the best of times and the worst of times.

You suck me in with your tropical vistas and umbrella-adorned potent potables, and then you crush my spirit with your baggage service fees and crabby rental car company representatives. But one can hardly complain when one is returning from a trip to one’s favorite place in the world accompanied by one’s favorite person in the world.

Yes, indeedy. I’m back from paradise and I’m over-brimming with the sweet spirit of the Aloha State.

This girl did the hula dance.
This girl swam the lava rocks.
This girl ate more fresh ahi poke than is generally considered appropriate in polite company.

But much, much more on all that later. For now, we’ve got two salsas to talk about – I think they’re going to play an important role in your 4th of July festivities. So let’s get started.

I think I’m on the record as being a little crazy for condiments.

Silly over sauces.
Goofy for gravies.
Delirious about dressings.
And, of course, round the bend when it comes to relishes.

So, you know, recipes like these are important business.

When I’m working on condiments I like to set aside a whole day. I gather my produce and my glass jars about me, I chop, process and puree, and I end up with whole shelves of my refrigerator stocked and stacked with delightful jars of luscious condiments.

It’s colorful. It’s tasty. It’s incredibly satisfying.

And then, when some special occasion rolls around, say a Day whose name rhymes with attendance, you have a bevy of beautiful brines, magnificent mustards, and comely catsups to choose from.

Pico de gallo is deceptive. Why? Because it’s easy to assume that pico is simply a silly little jumble of chopped such-and-such. No! Proper pico is way more sophisticated than that.

You need some tart citrus. You need an herbal zing. And you absolutely, positively need some freshly ground black pepper.

Trust me, the black pepper makes pico pop with pleasant piquancy.

This second salsa, this uniquely nutty salsa, is a gem from the annals of Bon Appétit magazine. The texture is a little difficult to wrap your brain around at first, but the flavor will quash any doubts that remain. You’ll come for the pistachios, linger over the fresh chives, and stay for the lemon zest.

I made some adjustments to the original recipe because it was just a pinch too oily for me. Nuts, especially pistachios, already have their own oils that we can all appreciate; why drown out that natural born goodness? Not necessary, Nancy.

And so, my friends, I leave you with the recipes for two delightful salsas and the promise of many more to come. Also, a pop quiz! Just to make sure you were paying attention:

1.  What do you need to churn out the perfect pico de gallo?
A. Tart citrus
B. Herbal zing
C. Freshly ground black pepper
D. All of the above

2.  What makes a perfect Pistachio Salsa?
A. Chopped pistachios
B. Fresh chives
C. Lemon zest
D. All of the above

3.  The theme of this post was:
A. Condiments
B. Hawaii love
c. Annoying alliteration
D. All of the above

Perfect Pico De Gallo

4 c. Roma tomatoes, diced, seeded
1/2 c. yellow onion, diced
1/3 c. flat-leaf parsley, chopped, packed
1/4 c. lime juice, freshly squeezed
1 1/2 tsp. sea salt, finely ground
1 tsp. black pepper, freshly ground

Toss all of the ingredients together in a large bowl until well-combined. Jar/bottle and refrigerate. I find that this salsa is best served chilled.

YIELD:  approximately 4 cups

Pistachio Salsa

recipe adapted from the June 2012 issue of Bon Appétit

1 1/2 c. pistachio kernels, coarsely chopped
1/3 c. chives, fresh, minced
zest of 3 lemons
1/2 tsp. sea salt, finely ground
1 tsp. black pepper, freshly ground
2/3 c. extra virgin olive oil

Combine first 5 ingredients in a small bowl. Stir in the oil. Jar/bottle and refrigerate. I find that this salsa is best served at room temperature.

YIELD:  approximately 2 cups