Holy Guacamole!

My goodness, is it summer? How did that happen?

No, honestly, out here on the edge of the world, we don't get summer/spring so much we get 10C and less rain.

Now, I know its been a while since I've talked about my kitchen exploding or stealing expensive desserts through wormholes, but the truth of the matter is, I've gotten better at cooking. My roasts have been succulent, my potatoes, buttery and mashed and my cream puffs! I was beginning to think that I was getting good at this kitchen/hausfrau thing.

But I digress.

Yesterday was gorgeous. So gorgeous that I managed to wear a sundress without getting frostbite! So gorgeous that we broke out the BBQ. So gorgeous that I simply HAD to make a wine and vegetable run. Now, my initial plan was to make ratatouille. For those of you who've followed my exploits in the past, you will know that ratatouille and I have had... let's call it: issues. However, what I have not reported on is many ratatouille successes SINCE that day with the cucumber.

Unfortunately the grocery store was out to get me. After hunting in the produce section for the better part of ten minutes, I discovered that there were no zucchinis to be had! They'd simply never been shipped.

Well, as we all know, a ratatouille isn't ratatouille without zucchini. I learned this hard way in the past. I wasn't going to go through the trauma again. So, instead, I turned my attention to the avocado sale. Happy little pear shape vegetables just waiting to be scooped up.

I was inspired! Yes, I could picture it clearly! I would make guacamole to go with dinner. Throw in some salsa, chips, summer sunshine - what more could a girl ask for? What did it matter that I'd never made guacamole before? I was getting good at this cooking stuff, remember? How hard could it be?

Ingredients
avocados (grab some! they're on sale!)
olive oil
onion (if you can find one)
salsa
lemon juic

Method (to the madness)
Put it all in a bowl and mash it. Tada!


Indeed, so confident was I in my guacamole-making skills that I helped myself to a celebratory glass of wine (*cough* or 3 *cough*). What? I gave my fiancé a glass. He was still outside working on the BBQ. Meanwhile, I was busy trying to chop an onion that didn't exist.

You know that feeling in the grocery store when you look at an ingredient and wonder: "do I have any of that left at home?" and then you buy it just to be on the safe side, get home and discover you now have two or twenty or five of whatever that ingredient was that you weren't sure about? Yeah, that never happens with me. I blissfully walk about thinking there's imaginary food in my house. I seem to be under the impression that if something was in my house once, it left a clone.

So, sufficed to say that when I passed the onions in the grocery store, it never dawned on me that I could possibly be OUT of onions, because to my way of thinking they're busy forming a small fiddle playing village in my pantry. 

I was mistaken.

But who really needs onion in guacamole anyway? Just takes away from the delicious avocado! I don't need an onion. No siree! No onions in this dip!

Then my fiancé walked in (smelling of delicious BBQ), asked why I wasn't adding an onion and produced one out of thin air (aka the back of the fridge). I was so set on my onion-less guac by then that I refused to take it from him and just got to work opening my avocados - and can I just say, avocado may be the most pleasurable vegetable to prep. It doesn't give you sass, just creamy goodness complete with an enormous pit that I sorely wished I had a violent Philistine to launch it at alla David and Goliath.

Yet, no sooner was I singing the praises of my avocados than I found a unripe rebel in my midst. It wasn't smooth and effortless. It was tough and thick - holding my knife in its clutches and laughing maniacally! A more sane woman than I would have admitted defeat and left the little bastard to ripen. But there was wine in me and I found myself believing in avocado unity. "They're trying to segregate!" I cried, in great distress, to my fiancé.

"They're what?" asked my confused fiancé who was still holding the onion that I'd refused to take from him.

"Its a self-hating avocado! It won't join the others!"

"I'll put it on the grill." (You see my man and I have agreed that with cooking, when in doubt, add fire.... it worked with the rum balls!)

Perfect, the rebellion would be burned and the fascist onion would be grilled to a crisp along with it. With those problems out of the way I could finally finish mashing up my ingredients. If only my man-friend would've gone out to the grill and been done with. But no... for some reason he stood there, avocado in one hand, onion in the other, brows furrowed, watching my guacamole mashing technique.

Its mashing. It's not exactly an art. And still he stared at me.

"You're doing it wrong."

"Back seat cook."

"No, let me. Grind AND twist. You're just mashing it."

Dear readers, he tried to take the masher from me and 'show me how to mash correctly'. That's like telling someone there's a universally accepted method to clubbing someone on the head, or beating two rocks together. Its a metal masher that mashes soft vegetables. It mashes. There REALLY isn't much more to it.

"Back to your fire, caveman!" I may have even pointed to the door with the masher still in hand. Hard to say...  an empty glass wine was in the other hand... that is also the reason I may be imagining what he said next:

"Pound and twist work better. Woman do it wrong!" I may have hallucinated the leopard skin toga, but...

Aha.

I'd found my Philistine.



Note of Interest: avocado pits sound hollow, like coconuts, when they hit something solid.