If I were to become a hard-core locavore (not likely while my patoot is still parked here in ye arid desert), I suspect that I would bend the rules when it came to avocado.  Avocado and I have had a rocky relationship at times, due to my personal conviction that avocado belongs in the savory camp and not the sweet one, but I am still hopelessly devoted to this alligator-skinned fruit.  Never heard of a sweet avocado dish?  Besides avocado smoothies, custards, breads, and pies, there’s a simple breakfast in some parts of Latin America (such as Ecuador, where I spent about six months) that consists of avocado slices drizzled with honey, a slippery, sticky affair that doesn’t sit well with me.  And if you’ve ventured beyond the familiar, dark-green-to-black Hass avocados in the grocery store, you may have stumbled on a larger, bright-green variety that is naturally sweet, making for an odd sort of guacamole.  While it may just be that I’ve never had a really good avocado pie, I’ll confess: I think I can live without one.  After all, avocado fits so nicely in my salads, sandwiches, and guacamole benders.  Which, Gentle Readers, brings us to today’s recipe:

Guacamole.

There’s a surprising number of ways to make good guacamole.  I’ve even enjoyed it with sweet elements such as pomegranate seeds, chopped mango, and dried cranberries.  All of them are beautiful and bright against the creamy, salty, spiced avocado base, but my favorite is the Unicyclist’s Standard Version Guacamole.  Our household rules for good guacamole number exactly two.

1)  Pick a good avocado.  Make sure it’s the Hass variety.  It should be dark-skinned and slightly soft to the touch, but not mush.  Check the tip where the fruit had joined the tree; you want to make sure there’s no moldy fuzz there, and you also want to make sure the tip isn’t overly soft.  The warning sign is any spot (most likely at the tip, but not necessarily) where you can feel there is empty space between the skin and the flesh.  An avocado like this may have been bruised, or it may be overripe to the point of tasting like rancid bacon fat.  Either way, it’s going to harsh your guacamole mellow.

2)  Technique.  As with the beans, guacamole technique does make a difference that I think even an average taster can notice.  The Unicyclist’s method is old-school and pretty durn effective.  Deviate from the technique at your own peril, you deviant.  (To be fair, it will likely still be good, just not transcendent.)

¡Buen provecho!