Susan's Salsa

One of the unexpected pleasures of the wedding we attended last weekend came when I was drying dishes. At about 10 on the night of the wedding, those who were still celebrating were *really* still celebrating, and a few, a little more sober, of us decided to get a start on clean up. That is how I found myself working to clear the cluttered kitchen with the sister of the bride. 

I have known Josh's Aunt Susan for over 20 years; she is his mom's younger sister, and was probably around 21 when we first met. Like many big sisters, Michelle is sometimes dismissive of her younger sibling, but over the years I've seen Susan become a wife, a mother of three, and an accomplished homesteader, with all sorts of enviable making and preserving skills. When the kitchen was as clean and organized as we could get it, She opened a jar of her candied jalapeños, chopped some spring onion and stirred them into cream cheese. The concoction was delicious on crackers. 

As we discussed the heat level (pretty mild), she told me about a friend who, after tasting the jalapeños, requested candied ghost peppers. "I treated it like the toxic mixture it was," she said. "I ordered a gas mask from Amazon and wore two layers of rubber gloves past my elbows. I have a three-burner gas cooker out in my back yard, and I did all the cooking and canning there."

My eyes were huge. 

She laughed. "And it would have been fine, except for some reason, I took the gloves off to do the dishes." She shook her head with rue. "My hands were red for a week and super sensitive to any heat of even warm air. I had a chemical burn!"

"Did the guy actually eat his peppers?" I asked, thinking that if they could do that to her hands, what would they do to someone's throat.

"Yep," she shrugged. "He loved 'em."

A little while later, she gave me her method for making salsa. 

Cut your tomatoes in half and squeeze out the seeds. Place them cut side down on a baking sheet, with sliced onions, garlic cloves, and seeded peppers. Run the sheet under the broiler until everything is charred. When cool, the tomato skins slip right off and the pepper skins will, too. Chop everything together, season to taste, put into pint jars and water process. One sheet pan makes about a quart.

I tried her recipe this morning with tomatoes and peppers from my garden and onions and garlic from Treat's farm. A little of the fresh cilantro I have growing on the deck, and some cumin and sea salt completed the salsa. 

But it won't be around long enough to can, because it's that good.