Roommate Number 2 may say that he hates food, and he may refuse to take the garbage out, and he may come banging on our front door at 3am too drunk to figure out how to use his key, but he did just bring home chips and salsa from Papalote, so I’ve got to love him for that.
For some reason the salsa at Papalote is a San Francisco icon. Roommate Number 3 explained to me that once one eats something at Papalote, cravings for their food come weeks later. We’re both pretty sure there is an addictive drug added to the salsa.
The flavor was perfect. The tomato was just slightly smoky with medium spice. The thing that threw me off was its texture. It was creamy. All of the ingredients were blended together to make a smooth, mole like, salsa. I am, personally, a fan of the fresher, chunkier style salsa, but who knows… maybe in a few weeks I will wander helplessly down the street to Papalote in a zombie-like trance murmuring the words “Papalote salsa Papalote salsa Papalote salsa.” So I guess the salsa is not so much of an incredible food so much as it is a drug. Well, I conquered #47, and didn'ts pend a dime.
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