Hass or Shepard? Unlike Twitter, a good guacamole does not discriminate. It asks little of its maker: just ripe avocados (whatever the variety), a less-is-more approach … and a potato masher.
“We always keep it simple,” says Sarai Castillo, head chef of Melbourne’s Tres a Cinco. Growing up in Guadalajara in west Mexico, her family’s guacamole was simple: avocados, lime, salt, onion, tomato and chillies. “We don’t put any condiments or spices.”
Australia has recently wrapped up its Shepard season to make way for a near-continuous supply of Hass from May to February. Avocados Australia CEO John Tyas says this month’s harvest will come from far-north Queensland, followed by central and southern Queensland, New South Wales, the Sunraysia region, South Australia’s Riverland, and Western Australia. “You’ve got this sort of staggered process of the harvest … to allow that continuity of supply across the year,” Tyas says.
And when our grocer stands are flush with avocados, you make guacamole.
The rules: ripe avocados and lots of lime
Australia’s Hass-Shepard duopoly has nothing on Mexico, where there are dozens of avocado varieties. Juan Carlos Negrete Lopez, head chef and co-owner of Maíz Mexican Street Food in Sydney, longs for the criollo, an avocado native to Mexico with an ultra-creamy texture and a soft, edible skin that tastes like aniseed – it’s his preferred guacamole ingredient.
But in Australia, Shepard or Hass will do, provided they’re ripe. “You allow the avocado to create its own oils and [become] a creamy avocado rather than like a watery, tasteless avocado,” he says. It’s such a “simple and basic” rule, he says, but one that guacamole-makers ignore at their own peril.
The other non-negotiable: lime. The one-two punch of citric acid and fragrance is essential to balance the pleasing unctuousness of avocado. “A really good guacamole should encourage you to keep grabbing another corn chip,” says Lopez. “You cannot cut corners. You need to have fresh limes in there.”
Lopez’s golden ratio is one to one: one lime to one avocado should do it. Or 10ml of lime juice per 250g avocado. And please, no lemons – they’re too sweet, Castillo says.
But otherwise, there are no rules (but there is good taste)
There is no “holy grail” guacamole recipe, Lopez says. There are as many variations as there are guacamole-loving families; some may add oregano; others, olive oil. At home, Lopez adds onion, jalapeños and coriander (leaves, roots and all). At Maíz, the herb is relegated to garnish status to cater to “coriander haters”; the guacamole may also come topped with chilli oil or charred jalapeños.
Elsewhere you’ll find more, uh, renegade additions: peas (which begat peagate), havarti cheese, or Greek yoghurt. All the above have raised the ire of netizens, but they elicit far milder reactions from Castillo (“I wouldn’t put dairy, but I’ve seen queso fresco grated on top – which, eh, was OK”) and Lopez (“that’s funny”).
See also: guacamole with pumpkin seeds, with edamame, with black beans; something called “broccamole” (with broccoli), something else called “no-brown guacamole” (with mayonnaise), guacamole as soup (warm), guacamole as salad, and guacamole as salad with beetroot and radicchio.
Sometimes, avocados have been substituted out of necessity and scarcity. In 2019, the soaring price of avocados in Mexico meant some taco stands turned to calabacitas (similar to zucchinis) to make a “faux guacamole”.
And then, you’ll find recipes that are notable for what they leave out. In her book The Essential Cuisines of Mexico, the late British food writer Diana Kennedy – considered by many to be an English-language authority on Mexican food – omits lime juice entirely from her guacamole.
Lopez says the recipe is likely representative of some of the earliest iterations of guacamole. “‘Probably in its original context it would have been just avocados and chilli mashed together,” he says. “[But] trying to find the closest original roots of it all, it might be quite difficult and potentially impossible.”
Chop it finely – and use your potato masher
In Australia – and Mexico – not all homes have a molcajete (Mexico’s answer to the mortar and pestle). But a great many more do have a potato masher, and most have at least one large spoon. Any of these will do for guacamole.
“You don’t want to make it a puree,” says Castillo. At home and work, the potato masher is her weapon of choice. First, the avocados are roughly mashed with lime and salt; the onion and tomatoes are added after, “otherwise they’ll be smashed too”.
Lopez also advocates for the potato masher – or at a pinch, a large chef’s spoon. He stresses the importance of finely chopping the non-avocado ingredients so they can properly integrate. “The more pieces you have through your guacamole the more flavour you spread all around,” he says. “Guacamole with big onions is not very pleasant.”
And as for the texture, the green-and-gold standard is “creamy and textural”. “If you grab a spoon, it should keep a whole blob … not like a runny guacamole,” he says.
As an accompaniment, Lopez likes homemade corn chips, though chicharrón (crisp-fried pork rinds) is what he really wants: “Incredibly tasty … but definitely not a vegan, vegetarian-friendly thing.” In Mexicali, his home town near the Mexico-US border, hotdog vendors are known to top their sausages with refried beans and guacamole.
Will it keep?
Some recipes say guacamole needs to be eaten immediately. But a good guacamole with a decent amount of lime – for flavour as well as to prevent discolouration – will keep for three to four hours.
If you’re unsure, you can cover it with clingfilm, but Castillo says some Mexican households will embed the avocado pip in the guacamole to prevent it going brown. “It’s a Mexican theory if you leave the seed there, it will stay green,” she says. “I don’t know whether it works or not.”
Comments (…)
Sign in or create your Guardian account to join the discussion