Avo cado
The Music of this Fruit + a Salad to Make (and Exalt) Now
Avo cado
The music of this fruit. I can hear “Bip bip bip dee dip. Avo cado!” Drum roll. Repeat.
JOHN: Surrounded by these fruit trees that bleed red when you scrape their bark. And that I love to slice an avo in half and then thug the heavy knife into the pit to remove it from the fruit and then clunk the knife handle on the edge of the trash can to dislodge it. The whole thing percussive. Then the scooooping out of the smooth (fading like some spring landscape from deeper green to pale green) meat.
Wondering if you ever just squeeze a little fresh lime juice on the open half still-in-skin and scoop it with a spoon and eat it like that? Maybe a little garlic or onion salt. Or sprinkle with (my favorite spice) some cumin? Or all of the above. Mmmmm. One for a snack; two and it’s lunch.
We are now surrounded. Absolutely. On every side. Here’s my view.
Avo Cado.
The colors of the view around us from the same pallet as the greens of the fruit. We walk around Rancho Feliz surrounded by these avo cado trees. And oaks. And the wildflowers that thrive beneath them. Orange and yellow (with tiger stripes and edible) Nasturtiums. Lilies. Geraniums. Miners’ lettuce. And wild ass grasses.
And have you been with the avo cado trees when it’s raining? When the canopy is making a musical patter of its own, it’s taught green leaves acting like myriad of drum skins playing the ceiling - arching gracefully more than thirty feet overhead. And the dead leaves that carpet the ground beneath, giving another flatter, snapping texture of sound popping up all around you. It’s a rhythmic concert of rain on avos.
And to eat of this fruit. Its silky, solid-yet-squishable (by tongue and roof of mouth) density. And to know that this indulgence is actually good for you? It’s kind of like really tasty butter that’s good for you. The good kind of cholesterol. I mean, isn’t just that a reason to get out of bed in the morning?
I’ve complained about the price of Avo Cados. And I made an effort to eat California avos because (haven’t you heard?) the Mexican ones are coming from businesses run by the cartels? Thankfully, they now drop from the trees that surround us. Dang. Growing on trees (that’s good for you).
Have you noticed that avo trees are also covered in little flowers that the bees get pollen from? Somehow I never got that memo before I lived here. And to think, my biggest fear of moving here was that there wouldn’t be enough bees and birds…. I’ll have to make a recording of all the birds. Humming, chirping, screeching and hooting. And just singing. And I’m singing too.
I hear “Bip bip bip dee dip. Avo Cado!” Drum roll. Repeat.
Maybe our band will riff on that at the next Avocado Festival. In the meantime, Patti offers a new favorite way to center-stage avos in a salad that is a keeper.
In Love + Avos,
PATTI: I recently made this salad for a friend's gathering, and there wasn’t a leaf left in the bowl. It is a lovely mix of bean-protein satisfaction, creamy cheesy-avo smoothness, salty olive-caper moments, and critical crunch from the firm lettuce and croutons (for my croutons, I used sourdough and blood orange-infused olive oil, delicious!) The tangy dressing pulls it all together (shallots!), with the mix of fresh herbs layering in bursts of fresh flavor. I hope you make, improvise, and enjoy!
Chopped Salad With Chickpeas, Feta and Avocado
by: LIDEY HEUCK via NY TIMES COOKING
LIDEY HEUCK via NY TIMES COOKING: Like any good chopped salad, the lettuce here is in equal balance with the other ingredients, making this a great choice for those who are less than enthusiastic about leafy greens. Creamy feta and avocado mingle with briny olives and capers while cucumbers and finely chopped romaine provide crunch. (PATTI: THIS!) Use this recipe as a template for making the most of ingredients you have on hand; radishes, cherry tomatoes or diced onion would all be welcome here. The same flexibility applies for the croutons: Stale bread works, of course, but even leftover hot dog buns, pita bread or oyster crackers become excellent little croutons when toasted in the oven.
IINGREDIENTS
Yield:4 to 6 servings
2cups small (½-inch) diced stale bread, buns or pita (about 3 to 4 ounces)
6tablespoons olive oil, plus more for drizzling
Kosher salt and black pepper
1romaine heart, quartered lengthwise and sliced crosswise into ½-inch pieces
1(15-ounce) can chickpeas, rinsed
1medium (or ½ large) English cucumber, halved lengthwise, seeded and diced
½cup pitted Castelvetrano or other green olives, roughly chopped (about 3 ounces)
⅓cup thinly sliced scallions (about 2 scallions)
2tablespoons red wine vinegar
1tablespoon drained capers, roughly chopped
1tablespoon minced shallots
¼teaspoon Dijon mustard
1firm-ripe avocado, halved, pitted and diced
¾cup diced or crumbled feta cheese (about 4 ounces)
¼cup chopped fresh herbs, such as dill, basil, mint or parsley, plus more for serving
PREPARATION
Step 1
Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the diced bread on a sheet pan, drizzle lightly with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss, then bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until well toasted. Set aside to cool.
Step 2
Meanwhile, place the romaine pieces in a large mixing bowl, along with the chickpeas, cucumber, olives and scallions.
Step 3
In a small bowl, whisk together 6 tablespoons olive oil with the vinegar, capers, shallots, mustard, ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper and whisk well. Pour enough dressing over the salad to moisten; toss well. Add the avocado, feta and herbs and toss gently, adding more dressing to taste. Top with the croutons and a generous sprinkle of herbs and serve.