Friday, October 24, 2008
at 10:31 AM Posted by GHABB,Y~!
I love salsa. I mean I fucking adore the shit. It’s inexplicable, because nobody else in my family likes salsa, I am in no way of Mexican or even Spanish descent, and I generally hate things with onions. But when I go to parties where there’s a fresh bowl of salsa and available chips, there’s a strong chance that, five minutes later, I am sitting there in front of two empty bowls, with a look on my face akin to the look that Lennie had after he pet the rabbit to death in Of Mice and Men. “I dunno how it happened George, but salsa go bye-bye.”
I mention this because, while devouring salsa at a Joey Chestnut-esque clip last night, I realized that my tastes in salsa have changed over time. As a child, I was satisfied with any salsa. DeMoulas brand salsa? Why not? Tostitos salsa that is actually only 0.0001% tomato and the rest entirely comprised of Ragu spaghetti sauce and onion powder? Bring it on!
However, in middle school, my best friend and I discovered Chi-Chi’s salsa, and the slippery slope began. To the best of my knowledge, they don’t make Chi-Chi’s salsa anymore, probably because its awesomeness was so great that, if put in the wrong hands, it would force people to reveal national secrets out of sheer ectasy. After eating Chi-Chi’s salsa, I couldn’t possibly go back to the store brand, it was Chi-Chi’s or bust.
From there, I discovered “Fresh Salsa,” the current apple of my salsa-loving eye. You know, the type that is kept in grocery store refrigerators because its contents are so fresh that they may go bad? I'll only eat the type with tomatoes that literally taste like they were picked and chopped within an hour of me purchasing them. I’ve begged my girlfriend on a weekly basis to make me vats of salsa with only fresh ingredients, or else I'll withold things like "paying the gas bill." It’s to the point that I will not even eat salsa with a hint of tomato paste, insulting those who try to give me such with lines such as “well thanks, I’ll remember to put this on my fucking spaghetti.” I have been, admittedly, spoiled by the best and freshest salsa, and cannot possibly fathom consuming any other kind.
I also may have had a similar experience with alcohol, or at least my AA sponsor thinks so.
My point in all of this salsa-speak is that we, as Boston sports fans, have been spoiled by the freshest and best-tasting salsa over the last six or so years, and are now possibly facing the very real possibility of having to return to shitty Tostitos salsa in a jar. The Patriots are without their all-everything quarterback, and despite Monday’s heroics, have looked downright ordinary most of the time this year. Moreover, said star quarterback has been ruined possibly forever by California hippie doctors stoned on marijuana cigarettes, forgetting to apply hydrogen peroxide to cuts. The Red Sox, while giving us a helluva show, didn’t make the World Series which we all thought they were Destined for, and we must now watch the Tampa Bay Rays of all teams fill the slot which we thought was ours. And while the Celtics are Your defending NBA Champs, the fact is, they’re all a bit older, and may not necessarily win the title this year. Having been spoiled by the fantastic salsa of six championships in six years, some of us have having great difficult with this new reality. Turn on WEEI for an hour at any time of the day, and you’ll hear caller after caller, in various stages of loss, all confused as to what to do with this new, slightly less fresh and tasty, state of reality.
And to be honest, I wish I had the answer. I too have been spoiled by fine salsa and the taste of championships, and goddammit it’s tasted good. But I also know there was a time, not so long ago, when I was elated with Chi-Chi’s salsa, and a time before that when Tostitos’ salsa was the highlight of my week. I’ve done it before, and I’m sure, with a little practice, I can do it again.