I lived in Boston for two years during graduate school. The first year, my husband Parker lived with me before starting his own graduate school in Philadelphia. We often joke to our friends about that year - our first year living away from OK and our first year as a married couple - as the worst year of our lives. Looking back, we talk about Boston with such cynicism and disdain that it permeates whatever conversation we’re currently in and makes me a little embarrassed to so vehemently hate something. Truth is, we didn’t really hate Boston. Yes, we hated the busses and the T (we didn’t have a car), and yes we hated the fact that we periodically got shame-yelled at in public by other Bostonians (some really are stereotypically ill-tempered), and we hated the fact that we couldn’t find good Mexican food, or even mediocre Tex-Mex. But we were thrilled to be on our own adventure.
We were happy. Like, really happy. The kind of happiness that makes others around you question your sanity. I remember standing giddily in the doorway of our sight-unseen-rented apartment for the first time: a terrible, cigarette-scented, <400 ft2, no A/C and one-working-window apartment. My parents and brother met us in Boston to help us move in - I know at that moment they were horrified, but they were kind enough not to say anything. It took approximately 20 minutes to get everything we brought with us from the trunk of the Honda Pilot we drove to our apartment, but I couldn’t even wait that long. I tore into the box I knew held some of my most precious belongings - the box I begged Parker to make room for among the slim-pickings of belongings we kept - and inhaled an intense, conglomerated aroma of spices. Cumin, lavender, curry, rosemary I grew and dried myself, even Old Bay and premade spice mixes. We had one utility shelf screwed into the kitchen wall (a consolation prize for only having two cabinets), and I immediately filled half of it with every cooking and baking spice we owned.
To this day, my parents still laugh that I had to “organize my spices” so quickly, but those spices became my lifeline. That year, we hosted parties with people sitting on bedside tables; we played board game after board game, huddled around our table with laughter and snacks; we hosted Parker’s family for Thanksgiving brunch; we studied and worked and ate entire days with best friends, Noemi and John; I made pie for my parents’ birthdays while they were visiting; we had a monthly dinner club with another couple; I had a Galentine’s celebration with beautiful and powerful friends; and we made baked goods and took them to our colleagues at least once a month. Noemi and John joke that we made them fat that year. The kitchen became a sanctum for us while we lived there. In that kitchen I learned how to make apple butter, copycat Chik-fil-a sandwiches, queso, chicken and dumplings from scratch, bread, and our favorite - the one we always have on hand now - salsa.
Our time in Boston taught us that living wholly isn’t merely “making do” with what you have. The phrase “making do” sounds too much like settling for something. No, we learned that living wholly means you take what you have and fill it to the brim with people, good food, love, and fellowship. It’s letting dingy, sweaty apartments teach you about yourself. It’s new friends and not caring that in order for all four of you to sit, you have to pull the table away from the wall and pack around it like sardines. It’s learning to sit in the feelings of homesickness, and to thank God for the home you’re making right where you are.
Homesick Salsa
Ingredients (in the order that you need!)
½ med. or lg. Red onion, chopped
2-3 Jalapeño peppers, de-seeded (you can also sub serranos, long hots, etc. depending on your spice tolerance)
1 Tbs. White vinegar
1 Lime, squeezed
1 tsp. Cumin
1 tsp. Coriander
1 tsp. Sea salt (more to taste)
½ tsp. Minced garlic (or 1 clove)
½ tsp. Cayenne pepper
½ tsp. Black pepper
5-7 Roma tomatoes
Instructions
Put ingredients 1-4 in a food processor and chop until thoroughly broken down and mixed. Let rest for 5-7 minutes. The acid will break down the pungent onion, so you’ll have less onion breath! It will also take some of the intense heat out of the peppers.
While food processor is resting, put ingredients 5-10 together in a separate bowl. Add them to the food processor once the onion is done resting and give it a few pulses.
Slice Roma tomatoes in half and add a couple at a time to the food processor, chopping in between.
Taste test, of course! Let your tastebuds tell you what you need more of; this recipe is so fresh that it varies a little just due to the nature of whatever produce you are using on any given day.
Notes
This recipe yields a fresh, fruity, classic salsa, but there’s lots of spices you can add to change the flavor. For a darker, fuller taste try chili powder and nutritional yeast! We’ve also added pickled pineapples for a fun twist.
Use anywhere from 1/4 c. to 1/2 c. of this salsa for the base of guacamole or queso! I also throw it in chicken tortilla soup and enchiladas.