It was once the pinnacle of stardom to have your hand and footprint embedded in the sidewalk along Hollywood Boulevard.
Today, stardom is having your own line of salsa.
Everybody who is anybody is making salsa.
Paul Newman used to rule over salad dressings and spaghetti sauces, but now he has expanded into salsa. All-Natural Bandito
Salsa comes in six flavors, including mild, medium, hot, peach, pineapple and garlic. I can picture Paul Newman behind the
wheel of a race car or in a courtroom drama, but it's hard to picture him in an apron, chopping peaches and pineapple for
salsa.
Remember Cheech from the duo Cheech and Chong? Cheech is making salsa, too. His specialty is Mojo Mango. The
ingredients appear to be standard, but I'd still want a batch of it drug-tested at the lab before serving with nachos.
. Before long, nobody is going to care where the rich and famous have their hair done or what brand shoes they wear, they'll
just want to know where they buy their tomatoes and if they crush the garlic or mince it. Say good-bye to Tours of the Stars,
say hello to Tours of the Jars
NASCAR driver Tony Stewart has two lines of salsa, mild and hot. He also has ventured into barbecue sauce. His Smokie
barbecue sauce is described as "slightly sweet with a kick," which, when you're Tony Stewart, is better than "slightly sweet
with a punch."
Redneck comedian Jeff Foxworthy has three barbecue sauces. And no, he doesn't sell them in little foam coolers sealed with
duct tape.
Even athletes are getting in on the condiment action. Pittsburgh Steelers running back Jerome Bettis, also known as The Bus,
has his own salsa, and Cleveland Indians shortstop Omar Vizquel markets two flavors of salsa. He even paints the artwork for
the jar labels.
The future may have been plastics when Dustin Hoffman was in "The Graduate," but today the future lies is tomatoes, onions,
jalapenos and a twist of lime. I mentioned the salsa craze to my husband, thinking perhaps we could find a way to cash in on it
as well. I thought this might pull him out of that funk he's been in ever since I talked him out of buying the initial offering of
Google.
"But we don't make salsa," he observed.
"It doesn't' matter," I said. "Most of those guys don't either. They just taste different salsas and choose which one to put their
famous name on."
"But we're not famous."
"Exactly," I said. "Which is why our specialty would be Average Joe salsa. Three flavors: mild, midlin' and forgettable."
"I think one of us should have at least done something somewhat remarkable," he persisted.
"I set the record for push ups in sixth grade," I remind him. "That could lend itself to a little Pump It Up Salsa. And how about
those photography awards of yours? Shooter's Salsa. It's snappy!"
He then made a comment about me turning into a salsa queen. I responded that, with a good haircut and the right tiara, I
would have no objection to my picture on a nice bottle of picante.
"With all these celebrity salsas, has anybody given thought to what salsa lovers will be dipping in them?" he asked.
"Way ahead of you," I said. "Remember the television show with the two guys who patrolled California highways on
motorcycles? Well, you can now buy a bag of Eric Estrada's Gourmet CHiPS."
