So I decided to Mexicano-at-home, with the new tools of my nicely-equipped kitchen (if you are the first person to correctly identify all the registry items in this post, I will make this meal in your home). The resulting light meal came out so nicely I couldn't resist posting the results, and I thought I might at least try to impart something useful to any wayward web traveler landing on this page. So here it is: a lesson in guacamole.
You will need:
3 ripe avocados
1/2 medium white onion
1 garlic clove
1 jalapeno or half a serrano pepper
handful of fresh cilantro
small tomato, cored and seeded
salt
Your first instinct is probably to start with the avocados, as they are the main ingredient, but that would be wrong. But don't worry, sugar, that's why I'm here: drop that avocado. Instead, give the onion, the pepper, and the garlic clove each a fairly fine dice (do NOT rub your eyes or your nose after doing so, not that you want to do that while you're cooking in any event, but especially not in the presence of a serrano!) and mill the cilantro.
Now here is the key, the thing you won't know instinctively about guacamole: you are going to start by making paste of these first ingredients, a guacamole "base" if you will. Take about a third of each of these chopped ingredients and mound them together in the middle of your cutting board, give them a generous drizzle of salt and chop and mince these ingredients together until they are a juicy, pale greenish paste. Get your knife on its side and use the flat of the blade from time to time to press and dig in:
Drop the paste into your molcajete. Now you are ready for the avocados. Halve those ripe green bad boys lengthwise--don't
get ahead of yourself and start scooping hem out of their skins--halve them, then grab your paring knife and gently score the avocado flesh into a dice:
Then, and only then, are you ready to gently scoop the scored avocado into your molcajete, and use a spoon and the pestle to gently fold together the paste and the avocado.
NB: In a truly ripe avocado, the pit that remains in one half should just slide out when you grab it with your fingers. A patient, forgiving person would tell you that you can wedge your knife blade into it and twist the avocado and the impaled pit in opposite directions, much as you would open a bottle of champagne, to dislodge the bit, but I am not that patient or forgiving a person. If you cannot easily dislodge the pit, your guacamole will be inferior, and you will have failed. Throw out everything, go to the market and buy RIPE avocados this time, or put your non-ripe avocados away to mellow for a day or so, come back and try it again.
At this point, you can throw in the remaining onion, garlic, pepper and cilantro, as well as your diced, seeded, cored bright red terrific tomato, and gently pound it all together with the pestle. You don't want to completely pulverize the avocado, just to meld the ingredients together and give the chunks a creamy base to hold them altogether.
Taste for seasoning; at this point you can add a bit more salt, a squeeze of lime juice, a dash of smoky chipotle sauce -- whatever floats your boat; go nuts.
I rounded out the menu by breaking out my brand new -- and completely bad-ass -- deep fryer to make some fresh, warm tortilla chips to go along with. I continue to be in awe of Presto's penchant for churning out single-use appliances that, while unnecessary, are so cool and functional in producing basic American comfort food (and they are truly all about Amyrrhican comfort food. Click on that link--their banner features pictures of waffle fries and onion rings). The CoolDaddy works like a charm. Heats up to the specified temperature within twelve minutes, cooks tortilla chips to golden brown perfection in about seven minutes, no grease-spattered stove top or floor. You lower the basket into your roiling oily pit, seal it up to do its thing
and minutes later, you yank out some warm, salty goodness that perfectly compliments the creamy guacamole:
I aslo threw together an easy and relatively quick ceviche de camaron for a hit of sour and spice.
Add in a frosty social bev with a salty rim
Fling the windows open wide; toss some Brazilian Girls on the stereo (I recommend ratcheting down to Astrud Gilberto, the original Brazilian girl, as the night wears on) and enjoy your margaritas and ceviche while sitting down, without anyone spilling drinks on you or having to make your way drunkenly home from Penn Quarter.
¡Feliz viernes!
