The table salsa, is what I call it: the salsa that the waiter brings to your table, pretty much no matter what you order, though you usually have to ask for butter, and even at times for salt. Pretty much, this salsa is going to be great. The taqueria on the corner has two: a green avocado salsa that is spicier than it looks and a deep red pepper one that is milder than it looks (more smoky than spicy).
Yesterday, the dutch guy at our hostel who is riding his motorcycle all the way down to Patagonia said he thought the tacos there were really spicy. I looked at him in confusion and finally asked, "Did you put salsa on them?" He said, "Yes. I put a little green salsa on the first one. The taco was so spicy that I put a lot more green salsa on the next one to try to make it more mild." Me: "Um, the green salsa is pretty spicy. The tacos are not at all..."
Today's breakfast came with two salsas: a red one of medium spice that I slathered on my fried eggs and on the ubiquitous refried beans, and a small container of habanero salsa -- I tried that one and then left it alone. At the table next to me, I saw a Mexican woman put a fair amount on her sandwich and admired her strength.
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