My neighbors picked these yesterday. And these big boys weigh in at a little over a pound a piece making them twice as big as the more famous Haas species. In another 3 days they’ll be ‘maduro’, ripe in Spanish.

Fuerte Avocado

The Fuerte Avocado

And unlike the Haas, these won’t change color as they mature. And while they will develop a delicious creaminess when they’ve ripened, they aren’t my favorite species of avocado.

Why? I really can’t say because I am merely a dilettante at this point. And Michoacán is famous for its avocados and honestly it really takes a local grower or seller who can speak authoritatively to the subtle distinctions of flavor and texture.

And not just are the local avocados Mexico famous, but famous throughout the entire world. And many aficionados judge them as the best in the world. But it gets more finicky than that. The locals here positively salivate over a tiny bi-annual crop that grow in nearby El Rincon. I’ve eaten them although I lack the experience to qualitatively being able to weigh in with an honest opinion.

I love avocados and due to their abundance, rich flavor, healthy fat content, and cheap price I eat them most every day. Many evenings I will take a light dinner of crusty fresh bread, chopped up avocado, diced onion, sliced hot chilies, crumbled locally made [unpasteurized] white farmer’s cheese, a little olive oil, a pinch of salt, and maybe a little fresh herb like basil or rosemary that I grow on the terrace.

Importantly  – avocados are a local thing. Like carnitas. Or birria.

If I was back living in North Carolina then meals would be more about things like pasta dishes with locally harvested wild mushrooms. Or if I was back living on the gulf coast of Texas then meals would be centered around the local fruits of the sea.

Ever eaten a fresh oyster that’s been put in the center of a jumbo wild shrimp then wrapped with a slice of bacon then deep fried? That’s pure gulf coast heaven my friend.

PS – When one of my books sells and makes me a few extra thousand euros then I am straight off to Paris to live out my days as a gout ridden old drunk.

That is classic ambition from a century past.