- NSW Police 18 times more likely to place Indigenous youth on secret watchlist
- In Japan, this man will pretend to be your dad for $275
- First Nations teen subjected to “brutal police assault” demands justice
- My life needs an undo button – let me explain
- Premier clamps down on ‘illegal’ Black Lives Matter protest
Oh dear God. The very Australian trend of turning the avocado into uber trending facile foodstuffs has reached the United States. This has to stop.
You know what’s difficult to endure? Making one small mistake and being reminded it of it constantly. Last year (and allow me to take this opportunity and apologise), but we elevated the avocado to god-like status, and we really really shouldn’t have. I mean, I can understand why we did, as the avocado accurately represents our generation: Overpriced, overrated and only really useful for a fleeting moment, but still.
We’re a ripe bunch. Ever since we decided (or whoever) decided that the movement towards brunch was more important than the one to the Western Suburbs, which was picked up the ironically named Bernard Salt, who added his surname to his rhetoric. Since then we’ve all had to suffer articles, op-eds, hot-takes, politicians attempting humour and every foodie’s lame attempt to cash in all safe in the knowledge that it was all our fault.
I mean, let’s be honest. At what point do we all admit that we’ve probably taken it too far, and we should just pack it the fuck in?
Sadly, the answer is not today, as it seems that the pointlessness of the avocado plague is now airborne, touching down on the shores of the United States, finding a host in the hospo workers who possess the most ironic tattoos and the most distressed wardrobe. Distressed should be the operative term, because what we’ve birthed has morphed into something else entirely.
The Avocado Toast Cocktail.
In a piece published in Esquire, veterans of the avocado war will be familiar with the machine gun rhetoric fired over the battlements of column inches.
Spoiler alert, it’s crazy. But not enough to work. The Oppenheimer of this beverage explained the horror he unleashed, in that same folksy, familiar tongue-in-cheek marginalisation of the issue that razed the landscape of the post-breakfast meal:
“The whole cocktail is just kind of an irreverent joke,” he admits. But it also happens to be very drinkable. “It’s balanced, the savoury flavours are subtle. It’s not going to taste like you’re eating a handful of raw kale.”
The fact that he mentioned the k-word speaks loudly about how far the virus has spread. My god. I realise the Brooklyndians re-invented the hipster, but we certainly drove the stake through the heart of the legume. However, what this affords us with, is an opportunity. It’s too late for us, as the husk between us and our parents have forever been cut, but we can export the knowledge of the mistakes we’ve made, and attempt to save someone else from the what we’ve done.
Now that’s adulthood.
Also, if you’re curious about the recipe for the aforementioned cocktail, here ’tis.
- 1 avocado, whole
- 1/2 litre Vodkfa
- 1 cup destemmed kale
- 1 cup simple syrup
- 20 grams. fresh lime juice
- 1/4 cup salt
- 1/4 cup unseasoned breadcrumbs
- 1 tbsp. marash chilli
- 1 tsp. cayenne chilli
Make the breadcrumb mixture: Crumble salt and chilli together with breadcrumbs, rim cocktail glass and place in freezer.
Make the avocado vodka: Puree vodka and avocado together in a blender for sixty seconds. Strain through a single layer of cheesecloth. Refrigerate.
Make the kale syrup: Pulse kale and simple syrup in a blender until the kale is in crumb sized pieces. Strain through a single layer of cheesecloth. Refrigerate.
In a cocktail shaker, mix 1/4 cup avocado vodka, 1/2 cup kale syrup, and 1/2 cup fresh lime juice. Add ice, shake, strain into chilled cocktail glass, and serve.