Rodrigo's Salsa Roja

When I was little, my mother took accounting classes at the community college on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. She wanted to learn how to do the books properly, although I couldn't have told you whose books she was planning to do. She was always good with numbers.

On those afternoons, a woman from our neighborhood named Mrs. Ortega watched me until Mom got home. I remember that she was kind to me, although I'm ashamed to say I remember Rodrigo's hair better than I remember her face.

Mrs. Ortega watched a Spanish-language soap opera on one of the UHF stations. The reception wasn't very good, and I didn't understand a word of Spanish, but I watched it with her anyway.

The show was called *Corazón de Piedra*, which I later learned meant *Heart of Stone*.

The star was Rodrigo "El Halcón" Valcárcel.

Rodrigo had thick black hair, a mustache, and a white shirt that never seemed to have more than three buttons fastened. He wore a gold medallion. He was always furious with somebody, usually a beautiful woman who was crying.

I thought he was wonderful.

Rodrigo spent a great deal of time standing on balconies, looking off into the distance. Sometimes he would turn suddenly and say something that made everyone in the room gasp. I had no idea what he'd said, but I could tell it was important.

I remember one afternoon when Rodrigo was arguing with a woman in a very nice living room. She was crying, and he was eating tortilla chips from a bowl on the table. He dipped one into some red salsa, said something stern, and walked out.

I thought that was a marvelous way to end an argument.

I have never once managed it.

Mrs. Ortega laughed so hard she had to put down what she was doing. I don't know whether she was laughing at Rodrigo or at me.

I haven't seen *Corazón de Piedra* in nearly fifty years. I've looked for it a few times, without much luck. I suppose there were hundreds of those programs, and not all of them survived.

But I still remember Rodrigo.

This is my version of the red table salsa you get at Mexican restaurants, the kind that's brought out with a basket of warm tortilla chips before you've even ordered. The tomatoes and peppers are cooked first, then blended with garlic, oregano, and a little salt. Fresh onion and cilantro go in at the end.

It's good with chips, naturally, and I like it on eggs and just about anything else that needs a little heat.

I named it for Rodrigo Valcárcel.

He would have wanted it that way.