Did you know, because I am not writing about the game itself, that I’m not allowed to call the Super Bowl the Super Bowl? It’s true! The NFL, a.k.a. the No Fun League, takes its trademarks very seriously and is more lawyered-up than Ben Roethlisberger. This is why you keep seeing commercials and recipes and all kinds of whatnot screaming about how they’re perfect for “The Big Game,” which just sounds Super Dopey. “The ultimate hot wings recipe for your Big Game party!” is the stuff that makes food headline writers cry themselves to sleep at night.
Anyway, the Super Bowl will always be the Super Bowl in my book, but I’m really not sure if I’m allowed to call the guacamole you should make for it a guacamole. Guacamole, of course, is a tasty, tasty mash of avocados; some of my favorite taquerias even blend it into a thin sauce that fits more in a squeeze bottle than on a chip.
But years ago I stole a technique from the Dean and Deluca Cookbook and started taking my guacamole in the opposite, chunky direction: I make a tomatillo puree, like a salsa verde, and then fold in diced avocados, dressing them like a salad. The effect is killer—the salsa first hits you with sharp lime and onion, floral cilantro, and then as you crush the avocado between your teeth, it all rounds out into smooth richness. (Did you know the Chinese call avocado “butterfruit?” How perfect is that?)
I take it even one step further towards classic Mexican salsas by burning the tomatillos and peppers, giving it a mysterious, complex depth (also: feeding my pyromania). And then, just because I can, I also stir in some toasted garlic, lending a mellow, lingering flavor that complements the char. Toss some sweet, fat cubes of avocado in that and: Touchdown! It’s ok to have a little excessive celebration after you taste it; the NFL isn’t sending any flag-happy refs to penalize people at home. Yet.
(But someone get back to me and tell me if it’s ok to actually call this a guacamole, will you?)
Fire Roasted Guacamole
Serves 6-ish
6 ounces tomatillos (about 4 medium-sized ones)
3 jalapenos (If you like it hotter, use more, or use a chile with more kick)
1 ounce onion, chopped (about ¼ cup)
1 fistful cilantro leaves (about 1 cup, very loosely packed), plus more for garnish
2 limes
5 cloves garlic, minced
4 teaspoons olive oil
5 medium, really ripe avocados (I prefer Hass)
Salt, to taste
1. If your tomatillos are still in their papery husks, unhusk them, pop off the stem, and rinse in water to get that gummy stuff off. Dry them. You can do the responsible thing and set them high under a broiler for a few minutes to char the top, flip them, then char the other side, but you know and I know what you really want to do: Fire up the stove, get a pair of tongs or long skewer, and roast them like the marshmallows of the vegetable world. You’re not really looking to turn them into naughty-boy lumps of coal, but burn them until they’re evenly blackened all over. Set them in the bowl of a food processor.
2. Char the chile peppers the same way, and let them cool enough so you can handle them. Trim off the stem end, open them up, and cut out the seeds and ribs. (If you like more heat, you can keep them in.) Chop the peppers reasonably fine and add to the food processor.
3. Add onion, cilantro, the juice of 1 lime, and a generous pinch of salt to the tomatillos and peppers in the food processor and pulse until it’s basically a liquid. Taste, and add more salt if necessary to make it savory and balance the sourness somewhat.
4. In a small pan, heat the garlic and oil over medium heat. Swirl it a bit, and smell the goodness. When it turns slightly golden, swirl constantly until the garlic is a rich golden brown (but not, you know, brown-brown). Stir it into the tomatillo puree until the oil incorporates. (At this point, you’ll have a delicious salsa, which you can use on its own.)
5. Split the avocados: Slice into the fruit with your knife from top to bottom and “roll” the avocado along the knife so you make one cut all the way around. Put down the knife and twist the halves in opposite directions, like you’re opening a jar, and they will come apart, exposing the pit. If your knife is sharp, give the pit a good, careful thwack to embed the blade in it. Twist and it will come out. (If your knife isn’t very sharp, or you’re nervous about thwacking your hand instead, just dig it out with a spoon.) Gently peel off the skin, and cut the avocado flesh into either ¼” or ½” dice (your call; the bigger, the more of a contrast between flavors. If your avocados are fantastic, go big; if merely very good, go small.). Spritz them with a little bit of lime as you work to keep them from turning brown.
6. Season avocado chunks with salt, until they taste really good. Gently fold in the salsa. Adjust seasoning with salt, in necessary, and garnish with some more chopped cilantro. (By the way, I know I'm a fiend with this stuff, but if you really want to send the guacamole over the edge, substitute a little bit of the salt with fish sauce. Your friends will never know what hit 'em.)
Note: Make this a few hours or up to a day ahead, and the flavors will mingle together nicely, without losing the texture.
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