Salsa for Canning Recipe


This is absolutely my favorite recipe and it’s taken a decade to perfect. Enjoy!

Heirloom Salsa

10 c chopped tomatoes

5 c bell peppers

5 c onions

2 1/2 c peppers. (Be sure to remove the seeds if you want to keep your salsa mild!)

1 1/4 c lime juice

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 bunch of cilantro, chopped

3 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1 can of tomato paste (optional)

This is so easy and so ridiculously time consuming… but worth every minute spent until you’re placing the jars in your pantry! Throw all your ingredients in a stock pot and let simmer on low until the flavors are combined and your salsa has thickened to your liking. Fill sterilized canning jars, adjust lids and process in a hot water bath canner. 20 minutes for pints, 30 minutes for salsa


I can’t recommend highly enough to mix and match your flavors. I made a batch of Brandywine tomato & habanero pepper salsa this week that is amazing, and my Aunt Ruby’s German Green tomato & jalapeno mild salsa is equally as delicious. You can tailor this recipe to fit your heat preference and favorite flavors. Be sure to remember that salsa continues to get hotter after canned if you leave the seeds in the peppers!

Happy dipping!


Some girls like flowers.

Some love candy.

Some are damn high maintenace and demand all sorts of shit.


I like words.

Let me swim in your vocabulary. Stun me with your sentence structure. Spell me into stunned silence.

Spoil me with diction.

Nothing turns me off more than horrible grammar. The prettiest boy turns ugly in a second when he tells me he “seen something” Shudder.

I’m a smart boy snob and I exploit them with adjectives- they sure as hell better be able to keep up.

There’s only one thing that tortures me more than a wordy boy…

One that can cook.

We all have daddy issues, and my Daddy can out-cook two thirds of the population.

If you use your can opener more than your knives? You’re not the one.

If you can cook me into submission AND talk to me about it intelligently?

Buckle your seat belt and take the day off because I will not be outdone and I’m a hurricane when inspired.

Mr. Professional has become quite the Mr. Captivating.

He talks foodie to me. He’s making my favorite thing for dinner while continuing to fight the good fight playing word games with me. He hasn’t beat me yet… but he might.

Flowers die… verbs are forever… and I can buy my own perfume… but I can’t make pierogies.

He can. He will…AND he’ll teach me.

Oy vey…. I’m in over my head…. while enjoying every delicious descriptive moment.

You give me fever…

When you touch me… fever when you hold me tight…

But when you lie to me and sleep with someone else the ENTIRE time we’re together?

I throw a party.

The First Annual Nathan Roast. Yep, first…because this guy is such a parasite I’ll have this party until the day I die purely to provide a warning to the other women unfortunate enough to cross his path. Thank GOD for Google.

Public on Facebook. Pictures public too. I’ll acknowledge my stupidity in a second to save someone from being his next victim.

He targets ladies. Pretty girls. Women. Good ones… the kind of girl you need to immediately take home to your mama, just so she knows she did a good job raising you.

THAT girl. The one you marry. The one you treasure because she makes your life resemble “Leave It To Beaver”.

We’re a dying breed, y’all… this guy has to be stopped for the sake of domestic goddess civilization. We’re endangered, and he’s a noxious weed… choking all us lovely little flowers out…

His cryptonite? He’s attracted to amazing women… but this time?

He shook the wrong hive.

Darling Mrs. First bought him these socks and had one request.

F- Spit on those for me before you throw them in.

I picked them up, and realized something about all of us. I handed one to Ms. Babymama and told her we had to spit on them before we threw them in. We both froze.

I’m a lady. I don’t spit on anything. Ever. I can tell by the look on Babymama’s face that she’s having the same thought.

J- I’m a lady… I don’t know how to spit.

B- Me either.

If there were ever a time to learn, it’s now. They burned quickly in spite of being spat on.

We started the fire with wood from the Dirty Boat Stealing Asshole. We burned old love letters, etc… it was fantastic.

Then the real stuff came into play…. the gift he bought for poor sweet Babymama…

Second edition, indeed.

The dog toy… which made me so sad at first. Until I talked to Marissa, or Ms. Other White Meat. He told her the dog lost it and they bought a new one, together. I hope she thinks of the truth she knows every time she looks at it. I swear… women can be so fucking stupid sometimes.

Sorry Remington… some people are just cursed with a douche bag for a dad.

I emailed his mom to apologize. I feel horrible for the drama hitting a few weeks before his brother’s wedding. Nothing back. Why? Because they’ve created this monster by financing the lies. It’s one thing to be successful. It’s one thing to share that success with your children. It’s another thing to facilitate someone ruining other people.

I happily volunteer to help undo the damage they’ve enabled.

We burned his bullshit. We burned the stupid Cornhuskers shit he buys everyone. The crotchless panties he gave us all…what an unoriginal piece of trash…

Speaking of trash… it was time to burn his uniform. Who impersonates a soldier? Who claims to be a Ranger who’s never enlisted?  His reason is that he’s special forces, he’s a big shot. You have to have General clearance to get his records.

You shouldn’t cheat on a General’s niece… should you? You definitely shouldn’t mess with a girl who has a fleet of  Special Forces & Pararescuemen as best friends.

Because it only took two calls… to establish finally- that Nathan has NEVER enlisted. He’s NEVER been a soldier and even more so? He couldn’t hack it in military school. Had to beg his mommy to get him out early.

So the next item up? His bullshit Army t-shirt he had the audacity to wear on the 4th of July. He had the balls to salute back when the veterans walked by. Someone bought him a beer because of the shirt. This guy deserves to burn just as quickly as his favorite went up.

Good thing he knows where to order this shit online. He’ll have a new one in days. It’s his thing.

Creepy, huh?

But not as creepy as the ultimate kindling. His favorite blanket. The blanket he’s wrapped around a lot of us. The blanket he then wrapped his baby in…

This man is past Jesus…

We reclaimed our pride last night, and the faith we all have in our own judgement. We all deserve better. We all deserve the truth.

Everyone deserves better than Nathan.

Even the stupid girls. Even Marissa. Even if they don’t know it yet.

So we wore that blanket in style… one last time. With our arms wrapped around each other, bonded by a heartache neither of us ever deserved, from a douchebag that was NEVER worthy.

Who’s laughing now, Nathan?

My pretty purple orchid smiling up at me. Surrounded by friends old and new. In love with the fact that I’m finally not the stupid girl still sitting next to him, convinced that those “other jealous bitches” just can’t handle that “he only wants me”.

Please… <eyeroll>

I’ve been looking forward to this all week… since I first had the idea.

All this time I thought this thing was going to put the fire out. I was sure polyester was a bonfire buzz kill…


It went right up in seconds…

and he was gone as fast as he came into my beautiful life… and finally providing something helpful.

I made the perfect toasted coconut smore over the flames of his favorites.

Sweet, delicious closure… with a mouthful of something that tastes better than he’ll ever be able to cook, surrounded by a bunch of amazing new girlfriends.

♥ – ♥ – ♥

Thanks Nathan… now go contract AIDS and die alone like you deserve.

James Beard Wannabe

Oh Liarpants… my daddy laughed out loud at you. I didn’t even have to Google it for him to tell me you were full of shit.

D- Babydoll… that is seriously pathological…. but wait… you never even told me he was a chef? If this guy is the James Beard Rising Star then I should have heard about his cooking…and I happen to know that Gabriel Rucker won this year.

J- Well….. he makes torchon. It’s his big deal. Ewww. He made me dinner once… but it was pretty bad. Too salty… with some sort of sausage, broccoli, crayfish soupy stuff under a steak… with a bone.

D- Oh. My. HA HA HA. You hate meat on the bone.

J- I know, but he had already bought it… and you know me… what was I going to say?

D- I don’t like meat on the bone?

J- Yeah right.

But… and I only know this because I am an absolute brat…

He’s not a very good cook… and I couldn’t finish it because it was so salty and so… well… overcooked. Dude if I want to eat broccoli paste? I’ll have my 11 year old boil some for me.

The steak was perfect… after you fought your way around all that nasty fatty disgustingness. Blech, gag… wretch.

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach….  but it’s not. It’s through his balls and we all know it. The way to a woman’s heart is a man that knows how to be domestic in order to delight her.

Feed me.

Tell me about it.

Talk to me while you cook and tell me what you’re doing.

It’s the highest form of foreplay you can achieve with me and if it’s done well? I’m sold. I’ll buy the farm. I’ve already picked out china patterns in my head after the second course if it’s really good.

I do not leave food on my plate…. hence the chunk-tastic thighs.

I also only send one thing back when I don’t like it…. and that’s steak….

and how on earth do you send the steak back if it’s your boyfriend cooking it? You don’t. That’s what. You suck it up and eat it…

Even when you don’t like it…. and you pray he doesn’t notice that you hardly touched it…

Even though you know he did.

You make excuses. You’re tired. You’re feet hurt. You want to take his clothes off and really thank him appropriately.

lol… or you’d rather get laid than eat another bite.

Either way- it worked… and I was pushing away my plate in minutes. Wondering how long it’d take him to pass out before I could eat a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Annoyed enough at how bad it was to be a brat about it… dice some onions and garlic and REALLY cook dinner.

Show him how it’s done… Mr. I-wish-I-could-be-talented Steinbauer.

Dude… put down the salt and walk away slowly so that people can eat your food without three glasses of water.

Or vodka…

Which improved the taste exponentially- thank you.

Watching him shake like a crazy person while trying to cut his steak sort of takes my mind off the taste in my mouth. I’m grinning at him, thanking him for the amazing dinner… lying through my teeth.

It’s the thought that counts, right?


When it comes to food? It’s the taste that counts. Sheesh. Buy a clue, Liarpants.

But the James Beard?

Give me a fucking break. Do I look like an idiot? Or just play one convincingly?

The James Beard Rising Star award is the epitome of chef-dom. It’s what they all pray for when they close their eyes at night. They all want it.

None of them get it.

Least of all, Liarpants with his nasty ass too salty overcooked broccoli.

Dude… please… you have to get up very very very early to fool a foodie…

and the closest you’re getting to a James Beard? Is to Google it.


BTW…. it’s his birthday…

Mmmm…. and this is why.

My hands are destroyed a little… it’s going to take some effort to return them to server hands. My nail polish is destroyed, my cuticles are ragged…


A quarter of the garden is weeded and mulched. I’m exhausted… but it’s finally coming together and I’m finally getting it on auto-pilot. We’ve had a slow & cool summer so things are SO far behind.


The arugula is gorgeous. The strawberries are going strong… and the golden raspberries are coming on. I found a dozen peas and 3 baby potatoes… I thinned the beets & the carrots…

Arugula, Strawberry & golden raspberry salad with roasted baby potatoes & baby beets.

This is why I knock myself out to grow my own veggies… so that when I’m having a crappy day, I can kick my shoes off at the gate, wiggle my toes into the dirt and feel better instantly.

More than that? I’m a food snob. I love things that taste good and I’m determined to grow them myself if I can’t get them locally. My mama ruined us early on.. she always had a huge garden and I knew from a tender age that potatoes didn’t taste as good as when you dug them yourself.

There’s a bit of love that comes through. It’s why I can Raspberry & Strawberry jam… it’s why I pickle beets and carrots & beans…. all this effort and all this work turns into something truly amazing…

and it feeds the people I love for the rest of the year.

I love a good day in the garden. I thrive in a dress & knee pads. I’m happiest with flowers in my hair and baby peas & carrots in my apron pocket.

Mmm. Bliss. Sweet, fantastic domestic bliss…

for 1. lol…

I hate to be a martyr but I fucking hate cooking for 1. I’m ready to start leaving food on the neighbors doorstep, just so I can truly enjoy cooking again.


Humor me… cook with me 🙂

If you’ve never attempted to make your own salad dressing, now is the perfect time to start! Here’s my favorite recipe for a quick easy vinaigrette.

Honey Bacon Dressing

  • 1/2 cup honey
  • 2 pcs. bacon, crumbled
  • 1/2 cup vinegar
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 1 teaspoon spicy brown mustard
  • 1 teaspoon lemon juice
  • Candied walnuts
Combine & shake like hell. Simple & yummmmmmmmmmy.
Throw the arugula in a bowl, dice the strawberries & throw the raspberries in. Add the candied walnuts & crumble bleu cheese & bacon over the top. Toss with the dressing & enjoy 🙂