I fully believe some foods reach down into the soul and heal.

I'm sitting here at one of my favorite little eateries. A Guatamalan, Mexican fusion place called El Pueblito Place on Richmond St. in Houston TX. They present each table with two salsas, a red that is positively alive with flavor and freshness, and a unusual fruit salsa of underripe pineapple, cilantro, and what I suspect is the barest hint of habenero just to give it a bit of Jazz on the synchopated beat.

But I digress. (Surprised?)

The red is positively humming with all that is good in a truly wonderful salsa. Rich, ripe, tomato tang accented with onion, garlic, and what is that? Cilantro? Or something else entirely? The chili borders on too much, but any less and the salsa would not sing to me. It gives that pleasant burning so near to what I'd call pain, but falling short. Blissfully short. My palate palpitates in the pleasure of this pesto.

"Mmm. Heal me."