Yesterday wasn't much of a food day for me. I was cruising the Marin farmers market with a gaggle of pals, when a gut cramp struck.
I wasn't really suffering badly, but I didn't think it wise to remain in a public place while I sorted out the intestinal distress. Would I double over? Throw up? Something else? Ew.
So I went home and languished. Fasted right through lunch, which was like hitting the reset button. A good thing.
I was finally hungry for supper, and a fat, ripe avocado was an easy choice.
I once learned a recipe for a sauce to drizzle on avocado halves eons ago from an East Coast guy. Excuse me, but I think the West Coast has dibs on avocado recipes. (Well, excluding that bizarre avocado dessert from Sunset magazine.) Still, I gave the sauce a try a couple of times. I think it was called "Volcano Sauce" or "Dynamite Sauce," something like that.
And last night it just seemed like a fun, stupid thing to try again.
I don't know if I still have the actual recipe anywhere; I recall that it was one of those unit=unit=unit recipes. In other words, equal proportions of everything. The problem was remembering what the ingredients were.
Ketchup, yes. Worcestershire sauce, yes. Then. Um... Something sweet. Something hot. (See why this is an East Coast recipe? It so disrespects the avocado!)
So I winged it. There was a jar of Dijon mustard in the fridge that only held wisps of mustard. That would be a good mixing vessel. I squirted in some agave nectar. A little Tabasco. Some vinegar. The ketchup and Worcestershire (although not in equal proportions).
It tasted pretty good, for a stupid, weird thing to do to an avocado.
Cranky asked how I liked it.
"It's stupid," I said. "I think I just reinvented Heinz 57 Sauce."