I traveled to Mexico City last month in search of the best chilaquiles, tacos and quesadillas I could find. I found all of the above, plus quite a few new-to-me Mexican combinations of cheese, flatbread and cactus or mushrooms.

On our last morning there, I walked to the loveliest French-Mexican café down the street called Lardo and ordered chilaquiles verdes. Chilaquiles are a traditional Mexican breakfast made with tortilla chips simmered in sauce—green (verde) or red (rojo).

I happily sat at the bar solo, sipping my cappuccino, admiring all of the copper design details, eavesdropping on the American family nearby, and imagining how fun it might be to travel with my own family someday.

Then my chilaquiles arrived, and all focus shifted to the gorgeous food before me. I didn’t know that tortilla chips and salsa could be so beautiful, but these were piled high and covered with dollops of queso fresco, fresh green cilantro leaves, and lots of creamy diced avocado. (There was no egg; apparently, I was supposed to order that separately, but I loved them as is.)

The chips were perfectly tender, not soggy or too poky. The salsa tasted super fresh and wasn’t overpowered by the flavor of fried chips. I’ve read that the sauce for chilaquiles varies by region (sometimes it’s red), but it seems like green sauce is more traditional in Mexico City. Those chilaquiles tasted as good as they looked, and I vowed to recreate them promptly when I got home.

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I’m never going back to store-bought salsa verde! This salsa verde is fresh, bright, and not too salty like those store-bought versions.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that simple is best. This salsa was originally a component in a seven-layer dip concept, but the salsa blew the dip out of the water. One part, on its own, was so much better than the other six combined. This salsa verde is so fresh and irresistible.

Then, I made it a couple more times, with the same ingredients, but each time, it tasted a little different. That’s just what happens with a simple recipe made with natural ingredients. You can pick up each tomatillo, squeeze it to gauge ripeness and peel back the husk to look for bright green skin, but you don’t know how flavorful it really is until you taste it.

Add eleven more tomatillos to the mix, plus jalapeño that may or may not be crazy spicy, plus onion and cilantro of varying freshness, and you’ll never make a batch of salsa that tastes quite like another.

Your salsa will be delicious, fresh and so much better than the salty jarred varieties. I can guarantee that much. That’s the beauty of simple recipes made with fresh, natural ingredients—they’re inevitably awesome. Don’t over think it. Trust the recipe. Adjust to suit your taste buds.

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Do you all remember those old Pace Picante commercials with the cowboys? Someone tries to hand a cowboy a jar of salsa and he hollers, “This stuff’s from New York City!” The other dusty cowboys in the group respond in harmonized, exaggerated disbelief, “New York City?!” Every time that commercial came on when I was a kid, my dad and brothers would chime in and crack themselves up. I’m planning my first trip to New York City at the end of the month, and every time I think about it, I hear those cowboys and my family’s voices echo in my head, “New York City?!”.

A couple of months ago, when I was in San Antonio, I met a girl my age who was visiting Texas for the first time. As someone who grew up just half a state away from that behemoth, it was a bit of a shock to realize that not everyone has been to Texas. I’m sure that’s how many East (and West) coasters feel about the fact that I’ve never been to the country’s most iconic city. I’ve always wanted an excuse to visit, so when Saveur Magazine invited all the Best Food Blog nominees to a little soirée (their terminology, not mine), I rounded up a friend and bought tickets. Although I’ve been to my fair share of big cities and I’m ecstatic that I finally get to visit NYC, I am experiencing a bit of trepidation as well. I blame those cowboys!

Growing up, we ate quite a bit of Pace Picante from San Antonio, but not while my dad was on a salsa-making kick when I was in elementary school. We’d stand around in the kitchen, taste testing the salsa and suggesting more lime or vinegar. That may have been my first real cooking lesson, if you can call it cooking. A few years later, my youngest brother, Zane, and I held competitions at the kitchen table to determine who could tolerate the spiciest salsa. Pretty sure I always won. After my grandmother passed away during college, my family and I escaped to Playa del Carmen for a week, during which time I fell in love with a Mexican condiment—pico de gallo. I put it on everything, from salad, pasta, toasted bread to the more obvious chips and tortillas.

This Saturday, which happened to be Cinco de Mayo, I spent the day with my family celebrating my brother’s college graduation. We snacked on what very well could have been Pace Picante an the reception while I marveled, once again, at how grown up (and good looking, good grief!) my little brothers have become.

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