IF you fall into the won't cook and won't garden category - remember there is no such word as can't, and I am about to rescue you by cooking your critics' goose, digging the largest hole for them to fall into, as well as saving your bacon.

In fact I am about to rescue you from obscurity. Never again will you have to excuse your domestic shortcomings. By sharing my special, foolproof, exotic recipe, you will have all your guests clamouring for details. In addition I will introduce you to a herb that actually grows from seed, every time, even after you have poked it with your poisonous paws. Furthermore I am doing all this for you, for NOTHING.

(On second thoughts perhaps I should apply for that copywriting position.)

I must confess that at one time I too was no cook and not much of a gardener. However that has all changed and I have become mildly famous because of a close association with dhanya (coriander, citandro?).

Thanks to the large Indian population living in KwaZuluNatal, South Africa, the rest of us have learned to flavour our food lavishly with a wide variety of spices including garlic and dhanya. And, particularly thrilling for someone as digitally challenged as I (meaning ungreen as in finger), I have discovered how to grow dhanya from seed, quite painlessly. So I have planted it everywhere, and harvest, and replant regularly. It is, in fact, a most satisfactory process which will obviously continue forever.

The same can be said for my salsa. I keep a covered dish in the refrigerator, and anyone lucky enought to taste this always comes back for more.

Originally the salsa was simply a dip but now I have adopted a Mexican approach and it is served with almost everything. Someone who knows these things told me Mexicans even eat salsa with omelettes and scrambled eggs. (I'm sure I would too if I could sort out the eggs.)

However I digress. Added to the contents of a toasted sandwich the salsa tastes divine, it is incredible with toasted cheese, on baked potatoes, or avocadoes, and perfect as a side dish with curry. And as long as you have some salsa, a salad is only a lettuce leaf away.

Of course there is salsa and salsa, but by a combination of luck and lack of good judgement, mine has evolved into a simplistic taste sensation.

Purists will use real lemon juice and and crush their own garlic but, believe me, commercially bottled lemon juice and crushed garlic work just as well.

The proportions are two firm, ripe, red tomatoes to a quarter of one large onion. At least five or six sprigs of fresh dhanya/coriander (I grow my own, you know), a few slices from a red chilli, salt, black pepper, and a liberal sprinkling of Chilli Beef Aromat powder. Plus, about a dessertspoonful of lemon juice and half a teaspoon of crushed garlic.

Although the Aromat was not in the original recipe I consider it an essential ingredient. Also I must confess I wouldn't make salsa nearly as frequently if I was without my hand-driven mini food processor.

Finely chop the onion and dhanya. Cut off the ends of the tomatoes and squeeze out a few seeds, and some juice, (or it will be too mushy). Add the tomatoes to the onion mixture and keep chopping. Add the garlic, sliced chilli, all the seasonings, and a long squeeze of lemon juice. One has to be guided here by taste and mushiness. Keep stirring and tasting - you will know when you've got it right.

You are going to be eternally grateful and I am sure you won't forget to include me whenever you say Grace - or take part in any other pre-food rituals.

Let's hear it for salsa.

Copyright 2000 Sheldene Chant