{"id":1467,"date":"2007-06-05T00:44:00","date_gmt":"2007-06-05T00:44:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2007\/06\/05\/how-it-works"},"modified":"2007-06-05T00:44:00","modified_gmt":"2007-06-05T00:44:00","slug":"how-it-works","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2007\/06\/how-it-works\/","title":{"rendered":"How it works"},"content":{"rendered":"
I must have pleased the weather gods, or whoever controls rain and shine. Ever since my last post<\/a>, it\u2019s been lovely around here. There\u2019s been sun, sun, and more sun, a whole week of hot days and cold beers and windows wide open. We had a picnic; we went rowing<\/a>; we stuck our feet in the Sound<\/a>; and on Saturday, we even cleaned the basement. (This last might not sound like fun, but I\u2019ll let you in on a secret: when it\u2019s hot outside, our basement is like heaven<\/span>. It\u2019s always a season cooler down there.) It\u2019s been summer. It\u2019s been the bee\u2019s knees. I didn\u2019t even mind the thunderstorm that rolled through last night. It was an especially hot day, and as dusk came on, I raised the windows as far as they would go. Brandon was out at a catering job, and I busied myself with a batch of soup and Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison<\/span><\/a>, and I\u2019m telling you, nothing has ever sounded so sweet as those raindrops on the sill, singing backup for Johnny and June. I swooned a little just writing that sentence.<\/p>\n At any rate, all this to say that I think the season is finally upon us. All the signs are there, including the most crucial one. This weekend, Brandon made salsa.<\/p>\n The truth is, Brandon eats salsa by the quart. He eats salsa like I eat dessert, in great, lusty gulps. Whenever I lose sight of him in the grocery store, all I have to do is head for the tomato display. He\u2019s bound to be there, sniffing and prodding, sizing up the prospects. The man is a salsa machine. He makes it; he eats it; and then he starts again.<\/p>\n<\/a>
Now, before this goes any further, you should know a little something. In one of our first conversations, before we\u2019d even met<\/a>, Brandon talked to me about salsa. We were in the business back then of comparing our favorite foods \u2013 a fitting variation, you could say, on \u201cWhat\u2019s your sign?\u201d \u2013 and one day, he brought it up. Actually, I believe his exact words were, \u201cI love anything with the consistency of salsa.\u201d I didn\u2019t think much of it at the time. I giggled a little, for sure, and thrilled silently for a second at the thought of a man who could care so deeply about sauces and condiments. But I figured he was just being cute and clever, and trying to say the right things. Needless to say, I was wrong. Not about the cuteness or the cleverness, mind you, but about the salsa.<\/p>\n<\/a>
Salsa may not sound like anything particularly exciting to make, and it certainly is simple. But a great salsa is special, an alchemy of sweetness and acid with just enough salt. Brandon\u2019s repertoire of salsas includes three varieties: a pico de gallo<\/span>; a fiery green sauce of cilantro, jalape\u00f1os, and garlic; and a grilled or roasted salsa, made from tomatoes and chiles that have been charred over a fire. I mentioned the latter two in a post almost two years ago<\/a>, as accompaniments to a dinner of fresh tortillas and beans. In response to requests, Brandon wrote rough sketches of the recipes in the comments section. But in the time since, he has tweaked and altered his methods, and seeing as he made a particularly spectacular go at the grilled version on Saturday night, I thought it was time to revisit the notion. Plus, it\u2019s summer<\/span>, people. You\u2019re supposed to be making salsa. That\u2019s just how it works.<\/p>\n