Quietly practicing many rounds of box breathing, I went along for the ride; only occasionally wishing that times hadn’t so drastically changed from my senior year when I invited 30 friends over for a quaint cookout in my parent’s backyard to celebrate my much less glamorous graduation.
For last week’s celebration, I appointed myself, among other things, contributor of guacamole. Aces in their places, they say. I’ve spent the better part of the last seven years perfecting my recipe for guacamole. As a result, I’m asked to bring it everywhere. Why does a white girl from the Midwest care so deeply about creating the perfect guacamole? I can only say that I’m a very selfish person and it is my very favorite snack.
On the day of the party, I halved 36 avocados, diced up 3 red onions, chopped 3 bunches of cilantro and juiced one million limes. Over the course of an hour and a half I created two extra large tubs of the perfect guacamole and after asking my son to take them to the outside fridge, I ran upstairs to take a shower, just moments before the party started.
When I came back downstairs and he still hadn’t returned, I knew we had had an unfortunate guacamole incident.
I began box breathing again. I heard the back door open slowly (and seemingly creaking with shame) ... “Mom, I dropped the guacamole. I’m sorry.”
I can say now that his level of contrition saved him. We lost about a pound of guacamole that morning, smeared down the sides of the fridge and spilling out onto the garage floor — but, I did not lose my temper. While I may not have spoken to him for an hour (silence is better than screaming, right?), we wordlessly cleaned up the aftermath side by side. I told myself we’d laugh about this someday. And that someday is already here.
The guests still loomed and spooned and dipped until the 23-count avocado bowl of guacamole was merely smears of green unable to be reached by an angular chip.
While I can’t write an exact recipe for my guacamole with the varying sizes of avocados and the different juiciness of limes, I can set you up for success with some tips:
Choose your avocados wisely
When browsing the grocery store for the perfect guacamole-bound avocados, choose ones that are rounder and less pear shaped. This just means they will have a higher meat-to-pit ratio. Select an avocado that has smooth, shiny skin, not craggy and dull. Avoid the ones that have a grey, dusty sheen.
Shinier skin usually means the avocado will have thin, pliable skin that gives way to buttery insides.
Never choose an avocado that has lost the piece of stem that sits at the narrow end. Once that falls off, the flesh is exposed and can begin to turn brown. Make sure that stem is strongly attached.
When you press gently on the flesh, it should give just slightly to your thumb, like a fully inflated playground ball. If you feel like you could easily insert your thumb to the pit, it’s too ripe and likely stringy. If there’s no give, it isn’t ready to be mashed. When you halve the avocados, there should be no irregular texture in the flesh. No stringiness or soft brown spots.
In fact, the texture should be similar to butter and the color should be bright green, lighter at the pit and darkening towards the skin. Gather four or five of these and you’ve made your first move towards the perfect guacamole.
Finely dice your red onion
The difference between your guacamole and mine is that you’re carelessly chopping your onions, leaving shards of disruptive crunch throughout your guacamole. No one wants that jarring taste or disruptive texture in what should have been a smooth, cohesive bite.
Take time and make sure the dice on the onion is fine and uniform, it will pay off. I recently read that the energy you feel while cooking goes into the food and I believe it. Take care in the process and the result will be enhanced for your effort.
Do not be shy with the lime juice or the salt
These are the things that make the avocado taste, well, like avocado. The most frequent flaw in homemade, store bought, or restaurant ordered guacamole is under seasoning. Consider the lime and salt the only real flavoring agents - use them liberally to make a dip that stands up against a salty tortilla chip or burrito bowl. Taste the mixture throughout the process and adjust the amounts as needed. This is truly where the magic happens - these two ingredients.
Mash your mixture with a fork
Then finish it with a whip. Just trust me on this.
I once heard Eva Longoria say she uses lemon in her guacamole. While I mostly don’t believe her, I do think you should add things you love. Jalapeno, tomato, cumin are all free game. I’m a minimalist or maybe a purist and I love the way the avocado retains its main character energy. That is, if you’ve accurately followed No. 1 and avoided an unfortunate guacamole incident.
And remember, even if an unfortunate incident occurs, someday you will likely laugh at it — and that someday will come sooner than you think.
“But First, Food” columnist Whitney Kling is a recipe developer who lives in Southwest Ohio with her four kids, two cats and a food memoir that’s ever-nearing completion. If she’s not playing tennis or at a yoga class, she’s in the kitchen creating something totally addictive — and usually writing about it.
WHITNEY’S GUACAMOLE
4-5 avocados, halved, pitted, and peeled
⅓ cup cilantro, chopped
⅓ cup red onion, finely diced
Juice of 2 juicy limes, plus more to taste
2 t Kosher salt, plus more to taste
Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. With the back of a fork press the avocados against the side of the bowl. Continue this motion until the halves are mostly broken down. At this point, flip the fork around and whip the mixture like you’re whipping eggs for scrambling or thoroughly whisking up cake batter. Continue for 20 seconds. The mixture should be stiff enough that it would hold up a fork, but mostly smooth - not completely. We’re not making baby food. Now, TASTE! And then adjust the lime and salt. Don’t be so nervous to make guacamole ahead of time. Refrigerated and sealed, this will not go brown for several hours.
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