All Hail the Salsa Queen

Yesterday afternoon, as I dutifully edited medical copy, I heard the familiar-enough thud in the mudroom signifying that the UPS guy had opened the door and dropped a package inside. It was about 3:00 p.m.

“It’s here!” I thought, and dutifully stopped editing to run downstairs like an excited puppy.

And here it was:

A package from one St. Bridgett from St. Louis filled with promises of peach salsa. For about a second, I thought about waiting for Tim (to whom said package was also addressed) to get home so we could open it together. During that second, I went for the scissors and started ripping into the tape. I pulled out the first well-packed jar and took this shot for documentary purposes. If you look closely, you can see the jar’s lid through the bubble wrap:

I pulled out the two jars and thought, Yum:

I then returned to my computer, reported the salsa’s successful arrival to Bridgett, went back to work, and eagerly awaited Tim’s homecoming. We just happened to have some of those tortilla chips shaped like little bowls. It’s unusual for me to have chips in the house because, well, I’d just eat them. But I purchased these for some happy hour sometime back. What proved unnecessary then turned into yesterday’s blessing. The little chips were the perfect vehicle for efficiently moving this salsa into my mouth. Here’s Tim with a fully stuffed chip:

The salsa is spiced with cumin, which we both love. The heat builds rapidly. Usually, I don’t like my salsa too hot, but this salsa is compelling, and it’s not too hot. However, I did at the end of my binge run for a spoonful of yogurt to neutralize my piehole. That did the trick—but only for a minute or two. As the yogurt effect diminished, I could feel the still-vital pulse of residual heat.

Thank you, St. B from St. L, for this glorious culinary treat.

And have I mentioned lately just how much I love my blog friends?