I use commas too much. That's what comes of my re reading old posts, a thing I should not do because I end up squirming with discomfort at the many errors held therein.
Keith is much better and off at work this morning, probably for the entire day. Fortunately, the worst thing that happened to him is that they signed him up to teach a class to the entire platoon without informing him. Hello, Monday morning!
If anyone has ever wondered, in a passing thought kind of way, how salsa might taste cooked, I have found out. The answer is pretty darn good.
You might be wondering, Why would I cook perfectly good salsa? Well, I'll tell you. It all happened because I tried to make salsa from scratch, using cans.
I know, I know. But there are recipes for it, on allrecipes.com and the reviews weren't horrific, in fact, people seemed to like it. And as it happened, I had mistakenly bought two cans of Rotell diced tomatoes with lime and cilantro, instead of with chili peppers.
Figuring I would have to use them sometime, I thought, what better use for Rotell diced tomatoes with lime and cilantro than in a salsa? I'll bet that's what they were made for. In they went, with another spare can of Mexican spiced stewed tomatoes that I had chopped up, chopped onion, a can of black beans, a half can of corn, garlic, dried cilantro and some cider vinegar and salt.
If you're thinking that's disgusting, you're right. It totally was. And it made a dauntingly large amount. I poured the slop into a storage container and put it on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, where I could conveniently forget about it until it became chemically altered, at which point in time throwing it away would become an upstanding, housewifely chore, instead of a waste of food.
Until last night, when Keith declared he would like some chili and it occurred to me that there really is very little difference in substance between that and salsa. Both have tomatoes, onions, garlic, and beans. Cook, add ground beef and voila, I would have transformed salsa slop into gourmet chili and earned myself a little halo of excellence in housewifery along the way.
When I explained the plan to Keith, his reaction was a tad discouraging.
"When you tell a man he's going to the dealership to buy the Corvette of his dreams, you don't get there and tell him he's gettin' a Ford Focus, woman!" he declared, horrified.
I remained undeterred, merely assuring him that if he didn't like it I would make the regular chili. This provided me with even more incentive to more forward with my program of food redemption.
Step one: pour slop into pot on medium heat.
Step two: thaw a pound and a half of good ground beef.
Step three: pray to God you are not going to now waste an entire pound and a half of good beef on bad salsa.
Step four: pour a lot of sugar in to cut down on the horrible vinegar fumes emanating from the heated salsa slop.
Step five: add in the cooked, drained ground beef, the rest of the can of corn which has remained unused in the fridge and might as well get thrown in, why the heck not? It also was going to be wasted anyway, I mean, who eats a half can's worth of corn? Why do I save this stuff? Why can't I just own up to the sorry truth of food waste and throw it away before it goes bad?
Step six: stir, take deep breath...
And voila! I had made a chili with a surprisingly complex, sweet and sour flavor with a hint of lime that complimented the richness of the beef. Keith ate several bowls of it, with ketchup. But then he eats everything with ketchup.
So now, I'm trying to think of a title for this culinary masterpiece. Salsa Chili? Cilantro Chili with Yellow Corn and Lime? Sweet and Sour Black Beans?
Whatever. I earned my halo.
