By Alejandro
I was a finicky eater. My parents
struggled getting me to eat. But in an era frought with fish sticks, frozen
carrot ridges, and whole milk for supper, can you blame me? None of my
neighbors ate healthy meals either. It took moving to Colombia for all this to
change.
One
of my first memories in Bogota was lunch at Aunt Nena’s: a no-frills bowl of
rice with guacamole. I couldn’t believe it—nor could anyone else—when I cleaned
my plate and asked for seconds. Years later, when it came time to cook for
myself, guacamole with rice was first on my list.
Markets
out here in Cali boast many varieties of bacon and haas, which yield a richer
guacamole. But in Colombia, the most common avocado is a giant variety of sweet
slimcado. On the road back from church on Sundays, women and their toddlers set
up at traffic lights selling boxfuls of 50-cent avocados half the size of my
head. Other corners were taken by vendors of mazorca. Ladies grilled their corn
on the cob, and brushed on butter with scallion bunches, rubber-banded near the
tip.
This
dish hits both corners.
Ingredients for Alejandro's Guacamole with Rice
4 ripe avocados
3 medium or 4 small tomatoes
1/2 red onion
Small handfulilantro
2 scallions, light and dark green parts
1 jalapeño
2 cups cooked organic brown jasmine rice
2 ears of corn, husked and seasoned with a little olive oil, ground ancho chili pepper and sea salt
First - Make The Pico
What
in the US is known as pico de gallo is actually called Salsa Mexicana south of
the border. Who knows where the cock beak (that's what's Pico de Gallo means in Spanish) came from. In any case, start by
slicing the onion into thin rings, and let it sit in ice-cold water. This will
eliminate most of the bite, while preserving the flavor and all that crunchy
texture.
Next, chop the ripe tomatoes into relatively small pieces. Then chop the cilantro, but don’t mince it. Use more leaf than stem.
Next, chop the scallions. Start at the bottom and chop your way to about half
the length of the stalks. Mince the jalapeño and make sure to get the seeds
into the mix
Now that you’ve dominated the
onion, chop it up, and toss it in a large bowl with the rest of the pico ingredients. Sprinkle about a teaspoon of salt and let it permeate while you move on to the avocado.
Cut it in half and slice
length-wise along in interior—this makes it easy for your thumbs to peel the flesh
off the skin. Hold on to the seeds, as they will help keep your leftover guac
fresh. Scoop the avocado into a mortar or bowl, grab the pestle and mash. As you mash, add salt, a quarter of a teaspoon at a time. When you
are done, the grinded avocado should be just salty enough to eat on its own.
Put it Together
Now that the pico has steeped in
its own juices, pour into the avocado bowl. The ratio is about 1:1. Store whatever pico is left in the fridge for a rainy day (or until it goes bad, whichever comes first).
Although Aunt Nena served her meal
in a rice bowl, I suggest a plate. I often pack rice in a teacup, flip the cup
over and tap a solid rice mound into the plate. Maybe two. Spoon a dollop on
each rice mound and plate in next to some sweet corn that you broiled . Keep some butter and sea salt close
by—if there’s ever an edible worth the calories of butter, it’s corn on the
cob.
Store the leftover guacamole and seeds in a mason jar, with a layer of plastic covering the guac.
