Guacamole with Every Bite

A uthor Joe Hayes, in his charming retelling of the Southwestern folktale A Spoon for Every Bite, recounts the story of a poor young couple who tell the wealthy, snobby godfather of their child that they have a friend who uses a different spoon for every bite he takes. This comment proves to be the godfather’s undoing (and the making of the poor young couple), as we learn at the end of the tale that the friend’s “spoon” is a tortilla. I, too, have recently been on a Southwestern food kick, and this amusing book came to mind as I crunched through perhaps my 70th tortilla chip.

Unlike the friend in the book, however, I haven’t been using my chips to scoop up beans. This particular food tour has been an exploration of that popular, bright green condiment, guacamole. Well, it starts off a lovely fresh green — think the color of ranunculus stems — but it quickly fades to ever-darker tones until it reaches an unsightly brown. This discoloration, I quickly learned, was one of the many hurdles I needed to conquer on my guacamole journey, and a theory about avocado pits and extra lime juice is being tested as I type.

I have no real reason to dislike avocados, but I’m one of those unfortunate souls to whom cilantro tastes like soap. Since guacamole was synonymous with cilantro in my mind, I decided it was in everyone’s best interest if I avoided the dip at all costs. For years. Until, that is, my first nephew came along. Nephew No. 1 is nearly two, and currently, everything is a vehicle for guacamole, including (to his poor mother’s great disgust) strawberries. I witnessed his obsession on a recent visit, and decided it was time to pass my own judgement, cilantro or no.

Since that trip, I often catch myself daydreaming, wondering when I can next have guacamole. It has led me to try numerous varieties of the dip from multiple grocery stores and in states as far-flung as Virginia and California. Grilled cheese sandwiches, burgers, omelets, and chicken quesadillas have all been turned into spreading grounds for the creamy substance.

Aldi’s guacamole was my first love on this journey, but I decided to branch out and see how other brands stood up in this difficult world of dips. These unofficial rankings have held fairly steady, with Aldi on top and Trader Joe’s holding down second. Kroger’s guac was much too watery, and the snack packs from Sam’s Club, while convenient and saving on wasted brown guacamole, were too bland. A California Walmart came through with a straightforward, browning-resistant blend that was the fresh boost I needed after days of trail mix and ground meat during a recent camping trip. Maybe I was just craving fresh produce, but it has hung on to third for a fair amount of time. Let it be noted that all but the Sam’s snack packs included cilantro, but with the exception of the Kroger brand, I actually didn’t mind it.

But as many options as I tried, I knew no real progress toward my understanding of guacamole perfection would be reached until I’d attempted to make my own.

At first my plan was very simple: spice up those Sam’s Club snack packs. Onions, tomatoes, and limes took over my kitchen counters and refrigerator shelves. This brilliant idea fizzled quickly because, despite my dress-ups, the packaged version still proved bland on the palette. In hindsight, I would’ve been much more liberal with the salt, but by this time, I’d decided to move on to the real deal.

From-scratch guacamole was going to be an event, a time of celebration, a moment of careful experimentation. But as it happens, attempt one was far from remarkable, as I threw it together after a long, lovely day singing for and celebrating a dear friend’s wedding. They fed us quite well at the reception, but that was before dancing for two-plus hours, and at 11 pm, I needed a snack. Into a bowl, in no particular order and with little ceremony, went an avocado, the juice of one lime, diced pieces of a rather old onion, a minced garlic clove, some salt, and a few chopped cherry tomatoes. No cilantro, naturally.

It was adequate, but I knew it could be significantly better.

At church the next morning, I mentioned my guacamole quest to a friend, and she told me that I needed to text the mom of a former student of mine. Apparently, her guacamole was the stuff of legend in the local moms’ bible study group. Off I went to contact her, hoping there was no secret family recipe for which I needed to weep and beg.

The lovely mom graciously shared her simple recipe with me (avocadoes, limes, cilantro, salt, and garlic powder), and back I went to the store for the proper items. This time, I’d do it right, and I’d be making two different types for the necessary side-by-side taste test. The second type would be a single-serving portion of America’s Test Kitchen guacamole.

Incidentally, my tortilla chip of choice for most of this adventure has been On the Border’s cafe-style chips. Perhaps I’ve just been conditioned since childhood to hold these up as the gold standard, but years of trying countless varieties of tortilla chips all point me in one direction: On the Border.

Back in my kitchen, I began to chop, dice, and mince ingredients for my two dips, but something was bothering me — that dratted cilantro. Could I truly say I’d made guacamole if I didn’t include it? Sam’s snack packs didn’t include it, so why did I need to? Regardless, I hadn’t purchased any during my last store run, and I wasn’t about to head out again, so cilantro-less it would be.

All things considered, both varieties were generally successful. To help them last longer in the fridge, I nestled the avocado pits into the guacamole and covered everything tightly with plastic wrap and lids. The garlic powder-infused option held up the best, but it was my variation on the ATK recipe that made it closest to my guacamole ideal.

What do you need? Avocados, limes, flaky sea salt, plum tomatoes with the seeds removed, jalapeños with the seeds removed, diced red onion, and minced garlic. Actually, my version is basically Ree Drummond’s Easy Guacamole, just sans cilantro. As much as I wanted to faithfully follow a recipe, when it came to this divisive herb, I failed.

I will, however, be making Drummond’s Bacon Goat Cheese Guacamole in the very near future. Those are two additions I can wholeheartedly support.