Bought some peach salsa at an Apple Festival that violin girl and bandleader Dave played at. By the looks of it, I thought it would meet Kaukab’s daughter’s approval. Garnering approval from Kaukab would be futile. Salsas aren’t her thing.
I’m usually skeptical about buying something considered ‘high brow’ among the mainstay country fair fare, like apple butter–a jar you may have noticed accompanied my salsa purchase. I figured I’d quiz the purveryor to better assess if it was worth the risk. I ran through a litany of ingredients that I use in making my mango salsa, thinking that the two fruits shared enough in flavor and texture. The list went something like this: Onion? Check. Cilantro? Check. Jalapeno? Lime? Check. Check. I stopped short of asking what, perhaps, would be the most important ingredients (I use) for fear of appearing weirdly defensive and socially smothering all in the same instance. Apparently, that “fear” was my downfall.
The next day, violin girl had asked to open the salsa. I had wanted to save it for a while. Look at its pretty contents. Fool myself into believing that I was one of those country ladies who spends the summer tending to her produce and then canning shelves of it for winter’s keeping. A few minutes later, I acquiesed.
After a few dollops from the jar, she tasted it. A look of total disappointment appeared. She asked me to taste it, my heart sinking ever so slowly. You know how when you see those pretty food pictures and you fool yourself into thinking that, maybe, just this once, the taste will match up? Well, it was like that.
Sure, it tasted like peaches. Tart ones. Then I recalled our conversation. No mention of honey, cumin, nor ginger. All three I use to make a more complex flavor profile. ‘Flavor profile.’ You like that? Sounds like I know what I’m talking about.
I can hear Kaukab now. “You dond know noteen!”