Salsa Books

“She pulled out a few tortilla chips from a nearby shelf, dipping one deeply and popping it in her mouth, then holding out the jar so Daniel could do the same. She was hit with the summery peach and brown sugar that sweetened the tomatoes, and then the heat built, numbing her tongue from the back to the front. She swallowed, eyes watering, and looked at Daniel, who already had his mouth open trying to cool it off. Most Wisconsinites couldn't hold their heat, so she wouldn't be able to use it straight, but there were some nice flavors in there.
"Here." She handed him a yogurt smoothie she kept in the fridge for days when she didn't have time to make a sandwich for herself.
"Sorry, G. I thought it would be delicious." He had an easy manner, bordering on shy, but with a strong thoughtful streak. Gina appreciated his amiable company.
"Ye of little faith. It has great flavor. It would be a shame to waste it. Have a seat and give me a few minutes."
Daniel settled on the overturned five-gallon bucket she used as a chair when it was slow.
"Tell me about what you were doing in Texas," she said.
"My sister and her family live near Austin. I try to get down and visit her once a winter. It's a nice break from the cold."
While he spoke she worked, mixing the salsa into cream cheese to cut the heat. She had some cornbread that she had made herself so it was the right texture to cut into slices- it would be the perfect accompaniment. She warmed up a little slow-cooked pork, tossing it with the peach salsa cream cheese mix, and put it between the cornbread slices with some shredded Monterey Jack, grilling it with butter to give the bread a crisp crunch.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Optimist's Guide to Letting Go