Salsa Verde

To me, Salsa Verde sounds like a small island in the Mediterranean, with rocky lagoon beaches, turquoise water, big crumbling stucco houses perched on hillsides, ancient olive and orange trees swaying in the ocean breeze, and lovely quay side restaurants. The waiters have mustaches, and the rich smell of roasting garlic and tart fresh lemon wafts from the kitchen. You watch your dinner come off the boat. Like Tiffany's, nothing bad can happen to you on the island of Salsa Verde.

In reality, Salsa Verde is a sauce. There are two kinds: the Mexican kind, which is  yummy, but I will save for another time, and the Italian kind, which is what I am talking about today. Recipes vary- Mario Batali has egg and anchovy in his. Mine is the simplest of the simple, but very easy to mess with. I made a large batch last night, which we smothered on creamy halibut. It was a perfect contrast, and on a nasty March night, it tasted like spring. But you don't need fish- salsa verde goes on anything, from steamed green beans, to folded in with mashed potatoes, to steak. Trust me.

Salsa Verde

1 bunch Italian Parsley
1 handful cornichon pickles (about 8)
1 teaspoon capers
2-4 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar (the best you have)
1 small shallot (or a small piece of red onion)
1 lemon (optional- you can use with or substitute for the vinegar)

Clean and dry the parsley well. Seperate the leaves and thin stems from the thick ones. Chop roughly. One handful at a time, with a couple of the pickles, the shallot and capers, add the parsley to your food processor (I have one of those tiny mini choppers. A blender would work too.) Lubricate with oil. Keep adding all the ingredients, and chopping, until you have a thick, beautiful green paste. It should taste sharp and bright and also a little creamy, but not too vinegary.  If I have a problem getting it pasty, I keep adding oil.

Then- try not to eat by the spoonful.