Guacamole may be the ultimate traditional Mexican food. The name
itself comes from the Aztec words “ahuacatl,” which
means “avocado,” and “molli,” which means
“sauce.”
Avocado trees were brought to California from Mexico in the late
1800s. Currently, the state produces about 95 percent of the U.S.
avocado crop, making guacamole the perfect fusion of Mexican
culture and California agriculture and a must-have for Cinco de
Mayo.
Enticed by my standing offer of a free dessert for anyone whose
recipe is used in this column, UCLA alumna Sierra Rein wrote in to
share her twist on the classic: Guaca-Fishy, which incorporates
smoked salmon into the traditional Mexican dip.
“Guaca-Fishy is an age-old recipe of five years,”
writes Rein.
Whether you’re sticking with traditional guacamole or
testing out a much newer classic, the first thing you need to do is
get an avocado.
Hass avocados, which have textured black skin, are the industry
standard available in supermarkets year-round.
But if you’re looking for a change or happen to be near a
farmers’ market, you might want to seek out the Fuerte
variety. Ripe Fuerte avocados feature smooth green skin and have a
richer, more complicated flavor.
“OK, OK, I get it,” says your roommate.
“We’ve got this avocado on the counter. It’s
green but it’s ripe. Amazing. Now what?”
Cut the avocado in half and strike the middle of the pit with
the blade of a knife, twisting the knife to remove the pit.
Let your roommate scoop the avocado flesh into a bowl and mash
it to a creamy paste.
Mince an ounce or two of smoked salmon into tiny pieces and mix
it with the avocado.
You want to get cold-smoked salmon, known as lox. This
“standard” kind of smoked salmon is translucent and has
a jelly-like consistency. For this recipe, avoid hot-smoked salmon,
which has been cooked by the smoking process and is therefore
drier, darker and chewier.
At this point, your roommate might raise questions about the
guacamole’s cheerful name.
“Why would you want to remind people that they’re
eating fishies?” he asks plaintively. “It’s like
Pepperidge Farm Goldfish ““ they have the same kind of crazy
thinking. Is there a reason I’m supposed to like eating a
“˜snack that smiles back’ at me?”
There isn’t really a good way to answer this question,
especially since it’s so out of character for him.
To gauge whether his concern is sincere or he’s just being
annoying on purpose, open the pantry and offer him a gingerbread
man. When the cookie’s smiling head is the first piece down
your roommate’s throat, you decide not to worry and just
proceed with the Guaca-Fishy.
Add salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste. Smoked salmon is
usually salty, so you might not need any additional salt ““
proceed with caution.
“That’s it?” asks your roommate. “It
took us, like, four minutes.”
Well, it’s a start. This is Guaca-Fishy at its simplest
and most elegant. It’s good with tortilla or corn chips,
spread on toast, or used as a condiment. Encourage your roommate to
try it before making any additions.
“Hmm … good,” he nods. This being a holiday,
though, he decides to “fiesta it up” a little bit with
garlic salt and contemplates what the dip would be like with red
onions, chopped tomatoes and bell or jalapeno peppers.
Your roommate gets very excited: the possibilities, in fact, are
endless! If you can put salmon in guacamole, what might be next?
Baked beans? Cornflakes? Pea soup? This is going to be the best
Cinco de Mayo ever!
But if you decide to try out innovative combinations of your
own, keep Rein’s hard-learned advice in mind: “Peanut
Butter-a-Fishy is not so good.”
Raab will make you a dessert if she writes a column based on
your recipe. E-mail her one at lraab@media.ucla.edu.