15 Popular Jarred Salsas, Ranked Worst To Best

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Tex-Mex and Mexican food are staples in my home, so salsa is something I keep tucked in the fridge at all times. However, the versatility of this store-bought condiment extends far beyond just regional dishes. You can slather it on steaks, use it to upgrade a frozen breakfast burrito, or even elevate basic baked potatoes with it.
Most grocery stores have no shortage of jarred salsas available, and I can confirm that not all of them are worth buying. The worst part? You can't tell a lot about the salsa just by looking at it -- you have to sample a ton of different brands to find one that fits your version of "the perfect salsa." In order to help expedite the process and make salsa shopping easier, I headed to my local Walmart, bought an array of popular salsa brands and styles, and sampled them before ranking each one from worst to best. The highest-ranking salsas boasted fresh, balanced flavors and could elevate almost any food they're eaten with.
Read more: 12 Store-Bought Buffalo Sauces, Ranked Worst To Best
Chi-Chi's Restaurant Style Salsa looks and smells just like baby vomit. Meanwhile, this salsa's flavor is about as inoffensive as inoffensive gets. There's absolutely no spice whatsoever, meaning an absence of both heat and flavor enhancers like cumin, and it's grossly under-salted. Spice plays an important role in salsa, acting as the bridge between the ingredients and layering on the flavor nuances that make salsa so delectable in the first place.
Chi-Chi's seemingly just cracked open a can of diced tomatoes, stirred in some (not a lot) of coarsely chopped onion, and let it meld together on a shelf for a few months. I'm honestly in awe of the fact that onions and what I think were peppers could sit in a vat of tomato juice, yet still maintain an unsettling degree of crunchiness. Why anyone would buy this salsa, I do not know. It's mild in the worst way possible.
I didn't think I would be able to describe a salsa as "fishy," but here I am. I can't tell exactly what was going on with this Herdez Salsa Casera, which the brand claims is its most popular offering. It's supposed to blend "homemade" flavors together, but I doubt anyone would want to take ownership of that moniker. It's weirdly savory in a way salsa shouldn't be -- almost like it was made with bouillon. The jar doesn't list it as an ingredient, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was drinking tomato-flavored chicken broth ... yuck.
This salsa is too soupy and liquidy to be useful for any application. It would turn even the crunchiest of tortilla chips into tortilla soup, and it would be sucked up by a resting steak rather than sitting artfully on top of it. There are very few things this salsa does right, which causes it to fall to the bottom of the pile.
Walmart's Medium Salsa was one of two refrigerated products that I tasted for this review. This large container of salsa is reasonably priced for its size, and I appreciated having a medium-heat option to try. Its appearance was murky and dark. Instead of being a fresh, ripe tomato color, it was more of a merlot-adjacent burgundy color. And as I stirred it, I was pleasantly surprised by the ratio of liquid to "stuff"; it was just chunky enough to be dippable but had enough water to allow it to be used as a sauce.
I wasn't expecting the heat to come out of this salsa like it did. The first bite was mild and unassuming, but that flavor slowly started to build on my tongue and at the back of my throat. If this was "medium," what the heck was "spicy" supposed to be like? Maybe my heat tolerance has gone down, but I think this salsa had a little more spice than it should have. There was also no fresh flavor to counteract that warmth, and the only discernible flavor I could detect (besides the obvious tomato) was the poorly cut cilantro -- with its stems still intact.
I've had Late July tortilla chips before, and I can't say that I was impressed by them. This salsa was just another strike against the brand. When I unscrewed the lid, I noticed that this salsa had more of a gazpacho-like texture to it than a salsa. It's very wet, and it's hard to tell what kind of ingredients are inside of it, aside from the organic tomatoes.
This salsa smelled like I had just taken a whiff of a bottle of distilled white vinegar. It had an almost eye-watering level of acidity, which dissipated as soon as I took a bite. It's replaced by a soapy flavor that's not quite cilantro but is in the same family. After surveying my spice cabinet and inhaling jars of spices trying to find it, I decided that the closest one was celery -- weird for a salsa, I know.
This mild salsa isn't at all spicy, and it's garlicky enough to just be passable (which was not the case for the brands that ranked lower than it). I just wish I could pull out more flavors besides the overwhelming celery-like bite.
Great Value Organic Mild Salsa had me fooled. The adorable drawings on the outside make you feel like you just bought a jar from the farmers' market and not from your local Walmart. It gives off very little on the nose -- I could pull out some tomatoey element, but not much other than that. As I stirred it with a spoon, I found very few ingredients that were intact, aside from the occasional pepper seed. It was gloopy, dark-colored, and a little too wet and unscoopable for my liking.
The flavor is like the aroma: tomato-forward, but otherwise nondescript. I don't see a reason why anyone would go out of their way to buy it, seeing as it doesn't offer any punchy or unique flavors that would enhance a burrito, salsa con queso, or other dish. It's salty but lacks any sort of umami complexity or freshness.
Acid is an important component of a salsa, but if you're too heavy-handed with it, it can leave your palate stinging. This acidic, abrasive flavor was very out of balance in Great Value's Thick & Chunky Mild Salsa, and after one bite, I felt like I had enough. When I popped the lid and took a whiff, I could tell that the acidity was going to be a problem -- it was like inhaling straight vinegar. Eating it was like eating straight vinegar, too; I don't know if Great Value just used really bad tomatoes or if they read the recipe wrong when it came to how much vinegar to add.
I could see the green jalapeños in this salsa, but I couldn't taste them. The only flavor that was easily identifiable besides the acidity was the saltiness, which was much more prominent than in other brands that I sampled. It has flavor, which is more than I could say for its organic version -- it just wasn't the right flavor.
Picante sauce and salsa are in the same family, and honestly, if you served me this and told me it was salsa, I wouldn't have questioned you. Pace's version is made with chopped vegetables rather than chunky ones (not that many of the salsas on this list took the chunky approach anyway), though I don't think that did its texture any favors. The picante sauce smelled eerily like cocktail sauce, and I fear I could have eaten it with shrimp and not noticed the difference.
The flavors aren't particularly bright, novel, or fun. The onion isn't particularly present, nor do the jalapeños do anything for its heat level or otherwise. All I taste are the tomatoes, which are underdeveloped and bitingly acidic. It lacks the balance of the higher-ranked salsas, which is why it scored relatively low -- but not at the bottom -- of this ranking.
The "uniquely different" label on this jar of Mateo's Gourmet Salsa made me think of the drink Moxie, which is known for being "distinctively different." Honestly, Moxie and this salsa have a lot in common; while they are made with the same ingredients as other brands, there is one element within them that consumers will love or vehemently hate. For Moxie, it's the gentian root extract. In the case of this salsa, it's the chunks of crushed garlic like you'd find in a squeeze bottle.
The garlic flavor isn't very poignant compared with the other ingredients, but the texture is at the forefront of your palate. It's, frankly, odd and gives this salsa a strange mouthfeel. I could have done without it, especially considering it's the only prominent part of this salsa. The tomato, onion, and spice notes are underwhelming, and there were some bites that were oddly toothsome, like I was chewing on a stem or part of a pepper I shouldn't have.
The color of this casera-style salsa is concerning, especially compared to the bright reds of every other sauce on this list. After trying Herdez, I was also worried about another run-in with a casera-style salsa. However, Siete did nail the flavor of this salsa. It brought an almost tomatillo-like profile, with roasty notes. It was deeply savory -- more salsa-like than broth-like, though, which I appreciated. I also could taste the subtle yet still-present pop of lemon juice, which was not as abrasive as the vinegar-forward salsas on this list.
Siete's main issue is its texture. It's very pulpy, to the point that I was so distracted by the soggy, cold pieces of tomatoes, onions, and jalapeños that I couldn't focus my full and undivided attention on its flavor. It may be less obvious if you pour it on something, like eggs or a burrito, but I wouldn't eat this salsa with chips.
I am a big fan of cumin -- in moderation. If you don't like this earthy and citrusy spice, I would recommend leaving On The Border's Mild Salsa off of your shopping list because it delivers a very flavorful and full-bodied punch of it. This was one of the few salsas that really delivered on flavor, almost to the point that the cumin eclipsed the tomatoes. I forgot I was eating salsa for a moment and thought I was biting into a spoonful of a fancy, tomato-based Indian condiment.
The cumin does hide the tomatoes well, and after a few bites, I started to think this addition was purposeful. The tomatoes taste like the ones you get from the grocery store in the dead of winter; they're devoid of any and all flavor, and there's not enough onion or garlic to carry the flavor. While I appreciate that there was something else besides sad tomatoes in this jar, the execution of this mild salsa was otherwise underwhelming.
I didn't have high hopes for Tostitos, despite its prominence on store shelves. The first thing I noticed about this salsa was that it came out of this jar oddly like ketchup: gloopy and gelatinous. It's one of the thicker salsas on this list and has an attractive yet unsettling dark red color that gave me pause. It doesn't smell like much, but when I took a bite, I was met with a hodgepodge of flavors that was anything but "not much."
This salsa is very sugary. It's something I didn't pick up until I tasted all of these brands back to back. Like some of the other lower-ranked brands, the tomatoes were surprisingly crunchy and still intact and were ushered in by some piquant notes. It toed the line between being a mild and medium salsa, and I figured that Tostitos (and its parent company, Frito-Lay) would be a little more conservative in this department so as not to offend young and spice-averse eaters. It's not fresh, and it's not very good, but it's passable if you need something to eat with chips.
The first thing I said when I took a whiff of this salsa was, "Okay, I'm listening." On the nose, it has an almost smoky profile with notes of ancho chiles, roasted red pepper, cumin, and something sweet. However, the issue is that this aromatic complexity didn't carry over into the flavor. While I could tell that there was an attention to detail placed on the quality of the ingredients in the salsa, its flavors ping-ponged off each other without any clear direction. The first bite I got was sweetness, followed by roastiness, followed by an overwhelming jolt of acidity that made my eyes water. These are all elements of a good salsa, but the transitions between these flavors are abrupt and unfinished.
Its texture was objectively perfect -- not too watery nor too chunky -- and I do like its spice level overall. But I would have liked to see greater interaction between these individual, yet still welcomed, flavor components.
After trying the inferno that was the Walmart-branded refrigerated salsa, I was more than happy to get my hands on the milder Fresh Cravings offering. This salsa comes in a cute container with whimsical tomato and onion drawings on it. When I took a whiff, it was easy to pull out the onion, cilantro, and tomato. It smells like a salsa I would get from a taquería. So far, so good.
This salsa leans a little more toward the watery side, but there is no shortage of crunchy bits. The onion wasn't particularly sharp and was still mellowed by the fresh tomato taste. Cilantro paid a visit, but it was not as pushy of a flavor as it was in the Walmart salsa. Overall, it's a really good salsa that I would want to eat on fish tacos or with a heaping scoop of salty tortilla chips. I was missing some savoriness and complexity in its flavor, though, likely because the ingredients hadn't been allowed to sit very long together in the container.
I didn't have high hopes for Xochitl at first. This Medium Chipotle Salsa is more reminiscent of a soup -- specifically gazpacho -- than a salsa. It's thin and watery, but boy is it delicious.
Xochitl was very intentional about the flavors of this sauce. The chipotle flavor comes through beautifully with a tinge of sweetness on the back end. I was honestly waiting for a salsa that didn't smack me over the head with acidity, and I was glad that I finally found one that could deliver on that craving. The flavor is savory without teetering into meaty territory like the Herdez Salsa Casera. It's like the Goldilocks of salsas: spicy (and appropriate for the "medium" level), sweet, acidic, savory, and umami. This balance makes it tremendously versatile, though it may make your tortilla chips a bit wet. I would have ranked it at the top of my list, but I think its wateriness may not make it appealing to all salsa lovers. However, it's still No. 1 in my heart (and on my taste buds).
I had a good feeling about Newman's Own salsa, given that I've liked this brand's other products. Its chunky, mild variety is far from the most exciting offering in its salsa lineup (because who would pick plain over ones with peach or mango?). I could pick up both acidic and smoky notes in its aroma. It wasn't particularly fragrant, but it made me excited to try a bite.
Like Tostitos, Newman's Own walks a thin line between a medium and a mild salsa. This jar has a kick to it, but it's not relentless or harsh. Instead, the piquant flavor eases into the acidity like a slow, rolling wave, rather than a jolting ride on a Tilt-A-Whirl. The spice lingered on my palate just enough to be memorable -- but not annoying. It had a deeper and more rounded flavor than Fresh Cravings, and there were very few things I found wrong with it. Its versatility and overall flavor earn it high marks in my book, and even though I think it's a little too plain-Jane for me, I'm sure salsa lovers will have no problem reaching for it when they need to stock up.
In order to get the fullest profile of each of these salsas, I sampled them straight from the spoon -- no tortilla chips involved (I didn't want the salt on the chips to skew my results). Although I did not eat them with any accompaniments, I took into account how versatile each salsa was and whether or not it could be used for various applications beyond just dipping. As I ate my way through Walmart's jarred salsa aisle, I examined the flavor balance and texture of each offering. The spice level needed to match what was listed on the label (mild or medium), and the texture should have been fitting for that particular style, be it a chunky, restaurant-style, salsa casera, or the like.
I ranked jarred salsas that had an appropriate flavor balance higher than those that were one-dimensional or overpowering in a particular area (like acidity). A good salsa enhances whatever you eat with it, be it crispy fried potatoes, a simple egg bake, or store-bought tortilla chips, so I gave higher marks to options that were flavorful and had broad consumer appeal, rather than those that only a select few salsa enthusiasts could enjoy.
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