Like the Seinfeld show about nothing, this will be a post about nothing.
Yes. I could write about Salsa. I actually have 3 different salsa bottles in the refrigerator. Chi-Chi, some Costco fancy pineapple one and then one more hidden way behind which am sure has collected some gray dusting and is spicy. That much I know. See, what a strange coincidence that today’s NaBloPoMo’s daily prompt was about “name three things in your refrigerator”
There! I just did that.
Technically, I guess I must write about salsa. The eating kind, the dancing kind and then the morphed kind of “jalsa”
The first time I ate Salsa was at this fabulous Mexican restaurant called Chi-Chi (same bottled Chi-Chi if am not mistaken) at Zaventem in Belgium. Zaventem is where the airport is, and I loved that area so very much.
Barely 22 years old, I think I wolfed down the small bowl and then in my flawless Francais, asked for a refill, much to the embarrassment of my new husband who couldn’t really say much since I knew French and he didn’t. But of course he later on told me in his flawless American English that I was a bozo to be so rude in prim and proper Europe to ask for a refill on the free chips and salsa even BEFORE we ordered the main course!
I said “oh” and then grinned and floored the very good looking Belgian guy who bought us a basket of fresh chips and a bigger bowl of salsa, coz he grinned back and said “Vous aimez les chips? Votre joli sourire dit tout!” and I almost fainted!
I loved that salsa. Nothing in the US comes close. In fact, no vegetable in the US tastes as good and fresh and bursting in flavor as the ones in Europe.
Or maybe this is nostalgia speaking.
No, it isn’t. The flavors are really alive and kicking on that side of the pond. Plus the portion sizes are small, so you savor every bit and you take your time savoring it, and you thus enjoy it.
The first time I tried Salsa dancing was at the gym. Loved it. It is a sensual dance, and the hips sway and there is so much style and grace and pizzazz in every movement. I think I did this on and off awhile and then well, I tore that damn knee, and there ended my torrid mexican affair with the salsa. I compensated by eating more godawful salsa at Don Pablo’s and Anita’s and then Guapo’s has some decent salsa, but apparently I am the only one with taste in my family, coz everyone else just hated it.
Jalsa that am palming off as “salsa” – Nope, I have nothing.
Except that I knew it was complete colloquial Madras lingo. Heard among the roadside romeos and rickshaw fellows and probably one of those words that no one really knew the precise meaning, but used it anyway, just to be cool. See, this whole cool and hip set stuff and fitting in, it happened long time ago, not the thing of the 21st century.
Unless of course you consider KA’s – Doing Jalsa and showing Jilpa – which is probably at this point quite entertaining than any of the other salsas mentioned above.
…and boy, can I write about nothing or what? 😉