Emma Gase
It all started about ten years ago in a Redondo Beach Trader Joe’s. You know those weird idiosyncrasies about yourself that you try to hide from your friends and loved ones, lest they think you insane and/or question their affiliation to you? No? Well, I don’t believe you, but I shall soldier on regardless. Back to TJ’s. So I was shopping with my mother, when we rounded upon the guacamole section. As she put a tub of guac in our cart, I was hypnotized by the odd, chunky greenish appearance. Despite the fact that I had never even tried it, I was baffled by my parents’ love of the damn stuff (there’s a ten-year-old’s logic for ya). What was so great about it? It was green and it had raw onions in it, and when you left it out on the counter for more than twenty minutes, it turned a moldy shade of brown...thanks, but no thanks. And at that moment in a California Trader Joe’s as I glared at her for putting the small tub into our cart, for reasons known only to the Higher Epicurean Powers, I decided then and there to hate guacamole. And that’s not all: In addition to being anti-gauc, I also pledged to avoid any and all things related to avocados for the rest of my life. (Let us remember: This was during the glory years of the Beige Diet and I cannot officially be held accountable for my actions). I even vowed to never say the name guacamole ever again, because I was convinced it had bad juju surrounding it’s mushy green essence (I put that last one down to a preteen penchant for drama).
Now before you call the authorities to have me committed, I realize how ignorant, silly, and unwarranted this all sounds. And although I had not a single modicum of logic to back up my prejudiced behavior, I managed to avoid guacamole and all things avocado-related for almost ten years. This was no small feat, either, considering that I was swimming against a strong pro-avocado current of popular opinion—Americans love them some guacamole. There’s also the small obstacle of how my entire family and every single one of my close friends idolizes and cherishes the avocado, thereby forcing me to be stealthy about my ten-year grudge to avoid additional food-related harassment. It was doable, but it also meant I was forced to feign countless years of half-hearted chip-dipping while heavily leaning on the salsa bowl for relief.
About a month ago, I found myself back at Trader Joe’s (kismet…you see where this is leading) doing some pre-football-game-watching-snack-stocking (not to be confused with the other yet equally essential pre-football-game-watching-beer-and-wine-run). Wanting to please the masses like the thoughtful and generous roommate I am, I found myself perusing the guacamole section. A modest green tub proclaiming, “Made with Greek Yogurt!” caught my eye. Hmm, I thought. I do enjoy Greek yogurt, and this tub is less than four dollars. Sold.
So what earth-shattering occurrence reversed my decade-long Freudian superstition? It was this totally radical and counter-intuitive thing called Actually Giving It A Chance. Yup, it was as simple as mustering the gumption to dip a tortilla chip far enough a bowl of guacamole to actually retain a decent dollop of the stuff, rather than a faint green residue which I nullify by immediately dunking into salsa. Oops, I thought, as soon as I chewed and swallowed a big scoop of TJ’s guac. I kinda of like this.
Since the inaugural bite, I have purchased and plowed through no less than three to four tubs of guacamole. I put it on everything from my breakfast tacos to turkey sandwiches to spooning it solo…and it only took me ten whole years to come around.
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