WRITTEN BY GREG ATKINSON PHOTOGRAPHED BY BARRY WONG

	Nothing beats the bright, fresh flavors of a finely chopped salsa popping with peppers, tomatoes and onion.

The hand-cut salsa was, naturally, the best. Spoonfuls were sprinkled over the melting cheese on top of grilled quesadillas.
 

Salsa Fresca and Everyday Salsa Recent recipes in Pacific Northwest Tender Greens with Roasted Grapes, Walnuts and Chevre Bengal Tiger Tandoori Masala

Patrons in the know would ask for "the fresh stuff," and unofficially, it was the salsa of choice for those who worked at the restaurant. While we cooks tried to keep it hidden from the servers so we wouldn't run out, we were putty in the hands of every waitress who asked us if they could have a little dish of it with their evening meal.

Whenever I make salsa at home, I follow some variation of the recipe for the salsa we used to fix at Dos Padres. In winter, or whenever I'm out of fresh tomatoes, I reach for canned ones. The best are organically grown and fire-roasted. I'll soak some crushed red chilies in boiling water, chop an onion, open a small can of fire-roasted green chilies and throw everything into the food processor. The resulting salsa is good, comes together in about 5 minutes, and keeps, refrigerated, for about a week. But sometimes, it just won't do.

Sometimes, especially at the height of summer when Walla Walla sweet onions are in the markets and tomatoes are really red and ripe, when shiny green chilies and red-hot jalapeños make an appearance, I pull out my sharpest knives and start cutting everything into tiny dice. The resulting salsa, more like a fresh relish than a proper sauce, becomes the focal point of whatever it's served with. It takes at least twice as long to make and doesn't keep too well at all, but none of that matters.

A spoonful on a piece of grilled fish, especially oily fish like salmon or wild tuna, or tropical fish like escolar or Pacific swordfish, is a revelation. Sprinkled onto a taco made with warmed-over chicken or sautéed and seasoned beef, this salsa wakes up my senses and makes we want more. Straight up, with a bowl of good tortilla chips, it's like a vacation in a bowl.

For some reason, fresh salsa is often referred to as pico de gallo or rooster's beak. Marilyn Tausend, the Northwest authority on all things Mexican, speculates that the name might come from "either the sharply cut pieces of the ingredients or the sharp tastes." In her book "Savoring Mexico," she writes that the same name is applied to "a specialty of Jalisco composed of pieces of jicama, with cucumber, melon or pineapple, all sprinkled with ground dried chilies."

Ultimately, it doesn't matter what it's called; it is simply fresh and delicious.