How Do You Do Your Guac?
I am no cook; I know three or four dinner recipes and alternate them as best I can. Beloved puts up with this. (I think I've mentioned before he's a living saint.) However guacamole is hardly cooking. We have one of the greatest luxuries of California living: our own avocado tree. We are smack in the avocado belt. Even now with most of the agricultural land in Southern California gone, there are still commercial avocado groves visible from our balcony.
We are on such familiar terms with the avocado, "guacamole" is known simply as "guac" in this house. I halve the avocado. A Mexican waiter showed me the easiest way of removing the big slippery seed: you hit the seed with a knife blade, middle of knife blade to middle of seed. The blade gets stuck in the seed, which you can then pull cleanly out of the glowing green flesh. Then knock the handle of the knife against the edge of your trash bin, and the seed pops right off the blade into the trash, leaving your fingers clean. (Of course you have to be very very careful with the knife.) You don't need to hit the seed very hard with the knife blade. It usually sticks pretty well.
Food pictures are tricky. This looks terrible, but it was delicious!
All we do for guac is to cut the avocado into small squares and mix in some fresh salsa. That's it, that's all. Stir enough so that there is a little avocado mush mixed in with the chunks of avocado and the salsa. Done. A little fresh ground black pepper is nice, but I often get lazy and leave it out. I like the Santa Barbara Roasted Garlic salsa: the touch of garlic is...mmmm. The nice thing about a fresh commercially made salsa is the vinegar in it, which adds just a little acidity that brightens the buttery quality of the avocado. You don't make it ahead of time, either. You prepare and devour, like a soft-poached egg.
My sister is more of a purist. She likes just a token amount of salsa in there, or a bit of chopped tomato and a few drops of lime juice, and she leaves it chunkier. Sister says she doesn't like to interfere with the flavor of the avocado. I suspect Sister's Puritan approach is a reaction to her neighbor, who apparently whips the avocado to the consistency of corn syrup and then loads it up with garlic, salt, sugar, ketchup...well, I won't go on.
While the rest of the neighborhood was watching The Big Game, Beloved practiced The Well Tempered Clavier and I went outside and to finish up the Fall Project before Spring hits. I decided against new raised beds for this year and will reuse the old ones. I came up with a good layout, I think. I have to straighten this out and measure and get everything perfectly spaced, but I think this will be it for this year:
The planting beds are now in the sunniest part of the area, the path is in the shadiest, it looks better, and it didn't cost much at all outside of my time and the health of my back. Everything was reused. I did spend $25 on a dwarf 'Cara Cara' orange tree, but I don't count that as part of the rehab. Now what's left besides getting the spacing perfect is filling those raised beds with soil, which will make the ten cubic yards of mulch I put down seem like an easy easy job.
Beloved got tired of practicing piano and finally turned The Big Game on, so I'll go watch the last two minutes with him. I don't really have to watch it. Our neighbor is a rabid Giants fan, and by his yells and shouts, I can tell exactly what is going on. Sounds close so far. The NFL strictly enforces the use of the copyrighted term "S---- B---", so everyone is starting to call it The Big Game instead. The NFL I suppose will have to copyright "The Big Game", too. Then what? In the meantime, there is guac.
Let me know via comment how you do your guac.