If you’re stewing meat in it, you might want it chunky to add more body to your guisado (stew). If it’s going to be a table salsa, you might like it completely smooth to begin with, then add chopped cilantro and white onions just before serving to give it some texture. For example, you will want it completely smooth if you use it for enchiladas. Whether to blend just until things have broken down a bit or until completely smooth comes down to personal preference and intended use. If I don’t have time to monitor the charring, I’ll toss the veggies onto a sheet pan and put them under the broiler for a few minutes. Other times, I’ll roast the veggies and chiles on a comal (carbon steel griddle) or directly over an open flame.

Sometimes I’ll boil all the ingredients before whirring them in the blender. If I’m using it immediately for a quick table salsa, I will blend the ingredients raw, adding some avocado to smooth it out and give it richness.

Cumin and Mexican oregano sometimes make an appearance, as does thyme if I’m using it with chicken or shrimp. Sometimes, if the tomatillos aren’t perfectly ripe, I’ll add a pinch of sugar to balance out any bitterness. Salt or granulated chicken bouillon is a must. I always add cilantro, sometimes to the blender or afterward, if I don’t want the herb obliterated. She grew tomatoes, cilantro, serranos, jalapeños and tomatillos for her incredibly spicy table salsas, which she always had available for my father, who must put some type of salsa on almost everything he eats. We only saw it during meals at my maternal grandmother’s house. Of course, now I know it’s not a tomato but related to the gooseberry.Īlthough he makes it now, Dad never made salsa verde when I still lived at home. I also thought tomatillos smelled weird, and I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to eat a green tomato. It’s usually quite spicy, which is one of the reasons I disliked it so much. Salsa verde - a green chile sauce made with tomatillos - was another matter altogether. These were primarily brothy, tomato-based salsas with onions and bell peppers and, occasionally, chile powder or a little jalapeño tossed in. Luckily, the ranchero salsas he made to stew meat or veggies in were usually toned down enough for me to eat. Salsas were an acquired taste for me, mainly because Dad’s table salsas were four-alarm-fire hot. I am a wimp when it comes to very spicy foods - a fact that my father still teases me over.

Green eggs and ham on a train