My family, and countless others, had an avocado bathroom suite in the 1970s. In fact, I knew avocado only as a colour back then. I didn’t taste one until I came to England. Northern Ireland, where I grew up, missed the supermarket-led exotic fruit and veg frenzy that England experienced. When I asked our local greengrocer for an avocado pear in 1984, she said, 'Oh, love, I can give you William’s or Comice but I’m afraid I’ve never heard of avocado.’ I happen to think this is an advantage – it’s good to be able to long for things. And once I had tasted an avocado I did long for them. I still do. Because they are so high in calories
I don’t eat them often, but if there is a ripe one in the fruit bowl I will be unable to resist it. With many foods – sea urchins, mushrooms, oysters – it’s the texture that makes us yearn for them. Avocado tastes faintly of banana but you’d be hard-pressed to describe it further. Its texture, though, is unique: buttery, soft, like a just-set custard. And that subtle flesh is brilliant once seasoned with lime, salt and pepper (try it for breakfast – roughly mashed and drizzled with olive oil – on toasted sourdough).
Hass avocados – the ones with the rougher, darker skin – are my favourite. They’re sweeter than the smooth-skinned Fuerte ones and easier to part from their skin. And here’s a tip: to achieve perfectly intact wedges, cut the avocado into slices with the skin still on. If the avocado is ripe you can just peel the skin from each piece.
I often succumb to eating avocado vinaigrette (a mustardy, slightly sweet dressing is lovely poured into that hollow where the stone once was) while cooking supper. It is, like raspberries, something that is perfect when unadorned. I don’t know who thought up the prawns with marie rose combo because it doesn’t work. Mayonnaise is simply too rich. There are good things to be done with an avocado, and that doesn’t just mean guacamole (though it’s great slathered on grilled fish and meat). Avocado flesh loves charred food, plus the sweetness of pork, red peppers, tomatoes and corn, the saltiness of crab and anchovies, and the tangy freshness of citrus fruits. It’s fabulous with Mexican food. One of the best things I’ve ever eaten was a breakfast burrito in a café outside Santa Barbara. A warm tortilla stuffed with black beans, spicy sausage, fried egg, sweet tomatoes, crumbled cheese and slices of ripe avocado – it doesn’t get much better. I could get on a plane to LA right now…
