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Tomatillo Salsa — Putting Up the Garden One Jar at a Time

October 2029. The garden is being put to bed. I do this every fall with a combination of satisfaction and mild grief — the season is done, the plants that fed us for five months are finished, the work of the soil will pause until spring. I put the beds down with compost and cover them with straw and thank the year's garden for what it gave.

This year's harvest: seventeen pounds of tomatoes in the last batch, enough for six jars of marinara and a tray of oven-dried tomatoes for the pantry. Fourteen pounds of peppers, most of which are in the freezer. The zucchini gave up the fight in August and I was not entirely sorry. The basil was extraordinary — I made more pesto than we'll eat in a year and gave half of it away.

Ethan called this week to ask about my marinara technique. Not because he doesn't know it — he knows it. But he's putting it on the menu at Table in a simple pasta dish and he wanted to talk through how I roast versus how I crush versus how I decide which way to do it based on the tomatoes. We talked for an hour about tomatoes. That's a Wednesday evening in October in this family.

The channel is at 700,000 subscribers. I filmed a harvest video — what I'm putting up for winter, how I think about a fall pantry, the connection between what you preserve and what you eat in January. The autumn preserving cycle, in my garden and kitchen, is unchanged from what my grandmother did in Tennessee. The tools are better. The intention is identical.

After all that talk with Ethan about roasting versus crushing, I kept thinking about how much the method matters—how the same fruit handled two different ways becomes two entirely different things on the shelf. That’s what I love about this tomatillo salsa. It’s one of the last things I put up every fall, right alongside the marinara, and it carries that same spirit of turning what the garden gave you into something you’ll be glad to open in January. A few pounds of tomatillos, some of those peppers from the freezer, and suddenly you’ve got six jars of something bright enough to cut through any winter meal.

Tomatillo Salsa

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6 (about 3 cups)

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds tomatillos, husked and rinsed
  • 1 large white onion, quartered
  • 4 cloves garlic, unpeeled
  • 2 jalapeño peppers, stemmed and halved
  • 1 serrano pepper, stemmed and halved
  • 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar (optional, to balance acidity)

Instructions

  1. Roast the vegetables. Preheat the broiler to high. Place tomatillos, onion quarters, garlic cloves, jalapeños, and serrano pepper on a rimmed baking sheet. Broil 5–7 minutes per side until charred and softened, about 12–15 minutes total.
  2. Peel the garlic. Remove the garlic cloves from their skins once cool enough to handle.
  3. Blend. Transfer the roasted vegetables and any accumulated juices to a blender or food processor. Add lime juice, salt, and cumin. Pulse to your desired consistency—chunky or smooth.
  4. Simmer. Pour the salsa into a medium saucepan and bring to a gentle boil over medium heat. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste and adjust salt or add sugar if needed.
  5. Finish. Remove from heat and stir in the fresh cilantro.
  6. Store or can. Let cool and refrigerate for up to two weeks, or ladle hot salsa into sterilized half-pint jars leaving 1/2-inch headspace and process in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes for longer pantry storage.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 45 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 390mg

Michelle Larson
About the cook who shared this
Michelle Larson
Week 336 of Michelle’s 30-year story · Provo, Utah
Michelle is a forty-four-year-old mom of six in Provo, Utah, a former accountant who traded spreadsheets for freezer meal prep and never looked back. She is LDS, organized to a fault, and can fill a chest freezer with sixty labeled meals in a single Sunday afternoon. She lost her second baby to SIDS and carries that grief in everything she does — including the way she feeds her family, which she does with a precision and devotion that borders on sacred.

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