I love avocados to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach. Their beguiling curve, their creaminess, and their enigmatic flavour make avos the most desirable of all fruit. To borrow from Elizabeth Barret Browning’s famous sonnet: dear avo, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I can never merely buy a perfectly ripe avo. Oh no, you make me wait, bargain and beg. I hate that your ‘ripe and ready’ packaging deceives me so often, but somehow it makes the wait more satisfying in the end. I’ve learned that it’s best to grab you when you’re hard and unforgiving, and keep you in a brown bag in the cupboard (where I sometimes encourage you to make friends with a more mature banana). Here, I will lovingly visit you every day, stroke you and coax you into tenderness. Sometimes, despite this lavish attention, you will reject me, turning rubbery and resistant, or sour, fibrous and mouldy, but I will never give up on loving you.
You have a high fat content, and I love this about you, not only because I require a substantial level of deliciousness in my food, but because all your monounsaturated fats are the healthy, ‘good’ kind.
I love that you are self-assured in your big-bottomed body, and that you can form a bowl for other sexy toppings. Yes, the retro avo ritz still appeals to my nostalgia, and this is a nicely updated version.
In India, Vietnam and Brazil you are often added to milkshakes and creamy desserts, but in Mexico and Southern America you are eaten in everything savoury from guacamole and tacos to warm Mexican red bean birria. You also play particularly nicely with starch. Whether it’s sushi or risotto rice, corn chips, flatbreads, wheat wraps or couscous, you are a loyal comrade to the carb, and for that I am grateful.
I know that excellent sushi is all about the freshness and cut of the fish, the tanginess of the rice, and the unmistakeable umami of nori, but I still love a slice of buttery avo to bring it all together. Especially in prawn tempura California rolls from 1890 House. (I’m glad we’re in an open relationship, avo, and that I can share this joy with you.)
All avo devotees must celebrate the holy trinity of bacon, avo and feta on a pizza. But, dear avo, please only settle onto the lovely thin crust once it has been baked in a wood-fired oven and cooled slightly, and not a minute before. No-one wants to see you hot and mushy.
Mixed with one of your bosom buddies, lime, you can be rolled up in little spring roll sheets and deep fried. This recipe for avocado fries also incorporates panko flakes, one of Japan’s great gifts to the foodie world, for golden crunch. What’s not to love?
Yes, it’s true. Your combination with two of my other favourite things, cheese and biscuits, attains new culinary heights in this recipe for avo tart. Thank you for agreeing to this for my sake.
Not that I advocate omitting butter as a general rule – you know the real me, dear avo – but your presence makes it possible for vegans to enjoy baked goods. (Though some cooks recommend substituting avo for only half the butter to retain the desired moisture of the recipe.)
There’s something about your creamy texture that’s sensational on a meaty burger, with your good pals tomato and onion. I worship you for that.
Dear avo, soon your season will be over, but until we meet again next year, I’ll be right here waiting for you.