I Like Guacamole!

Ah, but that wasn't the question, was it? The waitress asked, "Would you like guacamole with your quesadilla?"

I often answer unposed questions (and typically ask some of my own for good measure).

In this case, the "I like guacamole!" outburst served to further define me among my co-workers. I remember thinking at the time that being offered guacamole was like a little memory gift - a reminder of something I enjoyed but had completely forgotten. A tiny little surprise piece of joy. So I guess my reaction to that was appropriate - sort of like saying, "Thank you for reminding me and giving me another reason to live!"

We need those little bits of joy to sustain us. Or maybe only certain types of "us" do - and I'm one of those types.

Does guacamole really give me joy? Honestly, until the little episode at the Mexican restaurant, my experience with the green stuff was pretty limited. But once I had a reputation to uphold, I figured it was time to experiment in earnest. I began with a Mollie Katzen recipe (oh, I just love the Moosewood cookbooks!) and then made it my own. But Mollie should be credited with providing the basic elements - and attitude.

So at our workplace gatherings - birthdays, holidays and other special events - I get to bring the guacamole. It's a versatile dish that becomes Shrekalicious Booger Pudding at Halloween and Holiday Guacamole (garnished with red pepper strips) at Christmas.

And does a proclivity for guacamole really provide a glimpse into my soul, my very being? Does it define who I am?

This idea is not all that different than the assumptions made at Cindy and Sarah's wedding shower (a joint shower - they were marrying differing people) when I proclaimed one could never have too many corkscrews after they each received multiple gifts of this item. From that point on, my co-workers figured I must be - if not an alcoholic - then at least a frequent drinker, with bottles of the good stuff stashed all over my office and home. I was unjustly accused of having an alcohol-based good humor.

That's just preposterous. The last time I had two consecutive glasses of wimpy white wine in the same evening I was so blurry and stumbly I was afraid I was going to tumble down the stairs. At my advanced age, I do like the soft, furry and every-so-slightly blurred at the edges, warm feeling that comes with enjoying a nice glass of vino, but I no longer find pleasure in the blurry/stumbly sensation.

But guacamole. I confess I don't like all guacamole. Certainly not the bland and puréed-to-baby food-consistency variety that's often served at restaurants. It should be chunky, with fresh bits of real avocado. And garlicky, spicy and zingy - redolent with cumin and fresh lime. Just the right amount of each ingredient, so none overpowers any other, but each can be identified and savored in each delectable bite.

Hmmm. Must be time for lunch.