Chi-Chi’s Salsa is #2

Chi-Chi’s Salsa is #2

Words & Pictures by Darren Hanson

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Oh, Chi-Chi’s Salsa, you son of a sow. You vile, beslubbering wretch.

Let me start at the beginning. You ever get a craving that just slowly builds until you satisfy it, or you’ll eventually slip into a madness leading to your guest appearance on World’s Craziest Police Chases? Sometimes there’s a simple fix, like listening to that Frankie Goes to Hollywood song that’s been on a loop in your brain all day. Sometimes the craving is difficult, like smelling your ex’s rain boots, just one more time. There are laws, and they have fine print.

I was on day three of my craving for nachos with salsa, each day building up more than the last. It was time to act. One would imagine that resolving a craving for nachos and salsa would be easier than finding good straightjacket porno.

One would be wrong.

“Party Size” is how big the bag of nachos was that I grabbed from the shelf in the chip aisle at the grocery store. I had no intentions of running out of crunchies during this binge. I also know not to grab the salsa from the chip aisle. There is a larger selection elsewhere, with varieties of heat, flavor, size and price ranges. It’s like the red light district for salsa, and it’s worth the extra travel.

But now the tricky part, the crapshoot. I’ll admit I probably know more about the delicious salsa that Chayanne and Vanessa Williams made in Dance With Me, than I do about the delicious spicy vegetable snack. Luckily I am not too picky with Salsa. When it comes to the jarred stuff, it’s mostly the same, right? I’m not looking for anything highbrow. Is there even such a thing as highbrow salsa from a jar? I can’t imagine throwing a dinner party and having Queen Elizabeth turning to me and saying “Oh goodness, Tostitos Scoops AND Newman’s Own Chunky Medium salsa? Mr. Hanson you have spared no expenses…” “Nothing but the best for you, mum. Might I freshen up that glass of Dom Perignon ’55?”

So I stare long and hard at the variety of salsa on the shelf. It’s true that if you gaze long into the salsa, the salsa also gazes into you. Then we make eye contact. The glass jar of Chi-Chi’s salsa was giving me that ‘come hither’ look. It seems a little bigger-boned than the other jars, which is always a turn on for me (Big Beautiful Salsa!). The price is right. It’s meant to be.

When I got home it was a whirlwind of dinner cooking and cleaning. Every step I thought I should break into the nachos and salsa. I decided to wait until everything was said and done, clean and put away. When I could finally sit down and relax, and enjoy the delicious medium-spicy heat of tasty satisfaction. I poured some salsa into a bowl, and it landed with a plop that reminded me of a bathroom noise, which I should have taken as a symbolic warning of things to come.

The cold, bland and slimy mush I scooped up with my nacho and popped into my mouth was literally the taste of disappointment. When I say mush, I mean it. No discernable tomato bits could be found. A couple tiny specks of onion or something could be seen. It was without any chunky texture, flavorless and bland. Chewing it all up didn’t help much, other than reveal a slight sponginess to the mush as I chewed. There was some odd substance to it, but worse than just a paste. Then the strange salsa flavor came in at the finish, mostly after the mouth was empty. But still, it remained cold lifeless mush. It just wasn’t right. I have never had anything claiming to be salsa that was so bad. This was the “Crow 2: City of Angels” of salsa.

To give another hint as to how bad the salsa was, I smelled the bowl of salsa several times. I then got the jar, examined it, and smelled the contents. To tell you how desperate I was to live the salsa dream, I actually took another bite. Another bite!! The second bite was worse because I knew what was about to slither down my throat. My stomach turned a little, but not from nausea, I think my stomach was actually shaking its head at me in disappointment.

It’s one thing to have lousy salsa. It’s another thing to have lousy salsa in response to a huge craving. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. The next day I picked up a jar of Tostitos salsa and mission accomplished. But what about the ‘party size’ bag of nachos that were left hanging? Shame on you, Chi-Chi’s. What about that wasted glass jar, the glitzy packaging that blew wind up my skirt enticing the purchase? Just trying to get the skirt out of the way so you can get into position behind me to take care of business, apparently. I suppose I should build a toll booth at my keister. That way maybe I can get a dollar the next time some product decides to go for a Sunday drive up my Hershey Highway.