For a while we thought maybe "green stuff" was code for drugs or Cuban cigars, because insiders at the Gold Rush Cafe in East Dallas always drop their voices when they ask for it. George, the proprietor, always looks over his shoulder before he mutters sotto voce whether they have it that day or not. But it's salsa, really, really good fresh green salsa made by a member of George's extended clan — sometimes. Not always. And it's never on the menu. You have to ask. But don't just blurt it out, or George will say, "Green salsa? I don't know about any green salsa. Who told you a thing like that?"