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I distinctly remember my first encounter with salsa macha because it was a completely confounding experience. Staring at this strange, violently red jar of oily seeds, it was introduced to me as “seed salsa.” Up to that point, “salsa” had only been used to describe mixtures of finely minced vegetables, sometimes fruits, accompanying Mexican food. Usually tomato-based, fresh and punchy, I couldn’t connect the dots between that condiment and this one.

Taking the tiniest spoonful to test the waters, I watched rivulets of glistening toasted seeds ooze down my plate, soaking into everything it touched. One bite, and I was hooked. Instantly regretting that timid serving, I bellied up to the bar again and again, dousing my entire meal until my lips tingled and my nose turned red from the heat. It’s the good kind of pain the unlocks all sorts of endorphins, creating an undeniably addictive experience.

The allure owes something about the combination of textures and tastes, with toothsome, crunchy seeds tumbled together in this slick miasma of fiery, nutty, tangy oil. It doesn’t sound like it should work on paper, but it exceeds all expectations in real life. Suspend doubt long enough to give it a try, stop trying to put it to words; you’ll understand in an instant.

What is salsa macha?

Consider it Mexican chili crisp; spicy, savory, and impossibly addictive. Salsa macha is an oil-based condiment that goes with just about everything. It was born in the Mexican states of Veracruz and Oaxaca. As one might guess, the name is derived from the feminine version of “macho,” resulting in gender ambiguity, and its base recipe is ripe for tweaking.

Naturally, I had to take my rendition in a completely inauthentic direction that most people would say has gone off the rails. Sorry, not sorry. It all started with an extra bottle of everything bagel seasoning, when I realized that half the ingredients I needed were all neatly bundled together within. Why not take that idea and run with it? Thus, Everything Bagel Salsa Macha was born.

Most salsa macha recipes are at least slightly blended after cooking, but I wanted mine totally chunky and extra crunchy. You could always pulse the mixture briefly in the food processor to break it down a bit, or completely puree it for a smoother sauce. Make it your own! The only rules for salsa macha is that it must contain chilies, seeds, nuts, and oil. Everything else is up for interpretation.

How can you use salsa macha?

Basically, anything edible is a viable canvas for this chunky, seedy salsa. A few of my favorites and top suggestions for this particular variation include:

Bagel with cream cheese
Avocado toast
Tofu scramble
Hummus
Pizza
Pasta
Rice pilaf
Grilled or roasted vegetables

Like some of the best things in life, the flavors in salsa macha continue to develop and deepen over time. It’s fantastic right away, enjoyed while still warm, but continues to improve over the coming days. Don’t try to keep it too long, though; the garlic and seeds prevent it from keeping longer than 1 – 2 weeks in the fridge without turning rancid. Of course, that deadline is unlikely to pose a problem. I can barely keep a jar around for more than three days.

Continue reading “Macha, Macha, Wo/Man” →

Did you know that eggs really do grow on trees? Not chicken eggs like most would associate with the word, but eggfruit, otherwise known as canistel, could be considered the original plant-based egg. Still relatively unknown beyond tropical climates, these unique teardrop-shaped drupes originated in Central America and have spread to the United States via Florida, Hawaii, and Southern California. Each one is about the size of a fist, glowing with a brilliant sunshine-yellow color inside and out. Cut through the thin skin to reveal a hard pit (or two; be careful with your teeth!) much like that of an avocado, surrounded by creamy, slightly crumbly flesh with a downright uncanny resemblance to hard boiled egg yolks.

Eggfruit do not, however, taste like eggs. The flavor is neutral, ranging from musky squash to candied sweet potato. Though naturally low in fat, their unctuous texture can become cloying after more than a few spoonfuls. If you’ve never had the egg of the land before, it’s certainly a strange experience. There’s nothing else quite like it in the animal or vegetable kingdom.

That said, the temptation to draw comparisons to conventional eggs is irresistible. Such gorgeous golden meat, rich in beta-carotene, is good for more than just boosting eyesight and immunity. Eggfruit are ideal for baking since they retain their dense, thick texture, working quite a bit like- you guessed it- eggs. That means pumpkin pies, cheesecakes, ice cream, and even eggnog are quite delicious with this genuine plant-based swap.

When I got my hands on eggfruit for the first time, I was but a young pup, eating my way through Hawaii. It’s sadly been out of reach since returning to the mainland, but as global distribution continues to improve, I remain hopeful that more people will be fortunate enough to try such unique produce for themselves, too. While my means for cooking out there were limited, it sure didn’t stop me from playing around in the kitchen. After a few strange experiments, I landed on an extraordinary doppelganger for lemon curd.

Smooth, spreadable or spoonable like custard, the rich mixture is an ideal introduction to eggfruit for the uninitiated. You can schmear it over toast, stuff it inside of cupcakes, cookies, or French toast, drizzle it over pound cake, or just eat it with a spoon.

Want to switch it up?

Just like traditional curd, you can use any other citrus you prefer, such as lime, grapefruit, orange, or a combination of your favorites.
Add up to 1/2 cup of seedless fruit puree, like strawberry, raspberry, or peach for more fun, seasonal twists.
If you don’t have a microwave, you can cook the curd over the stove in a medium saucepan. Just stir gently and continuously so it doesn’t stick or burn on the bottom.

If you can, stock up on eggfruit whenever you see them, since they’ll go fast once you taste just how versatile they are. You’ll typically find unripe eggfruit in the store that’s still hard and slightly green. Let it sit on the counter to ripen; it could take as long as 10 – 14 days, so be patient! Unripe eggfruit is incredibly astringent and bitter; not good eats. It should be soft but not mushy, yielding easily to a knife when it’s ready. Then, it can be stored whole for 1 – 2 months in the fridge, or mashed and frozen for 6 – 8 months.

Don’t get caught with egg on your face. Eggfruit is always in good taste.

Continue reading “Egghead” →