My mom’s guacamole is the best in the world. The smooth, almost velvet-like consistency of the avocado mash, the tartness of lime and salt, and just a slight bit of heat. What more could I want? It’s also the perfect metaphor for the mixed-race household I grew up in.
My father is Latino, and my mother, Gail, is white. Those cross-cultural currents were especially evident at the dinner table. Mom’s guacamole is so famous among her close-knit circle of friends that it’s often requested whenever there’s a party.
When I think about all the parties my mom has served her famous guacamole, I'm reminded of the song "Guacamole" by the group Texas Tornados , a group that my parents listening to often when I was growing up. But what is it about my mom’s guacamole that is so legendary? I had to find out. Turns out .
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. she doesn't have a specific recipe. (Which is why I can't give it to you).
Or any particular measurements. But when pressed, she did give up a few tips. First, she told me, use a ripe Hass avocado.
It's hard to tell if they're ripe; you should look at the skin's appearance. They darken as they ripen, so look for one that's dark, almost blueish-black in color, and with a skin that's not too shiny, but nearly opaque. “The way you know it’s in the proper condition is if you can scoop it out of the skin clean with a spoon or with your finger.
The flesh of the avocado is supposed to come out clean, effortlessly,” she said. She includes lemon or lime, cumin, .