Avocado Toast

After July 1st the Avocado tree is ready to share her bounty and this year more than enough to eat, share and sell. I only wish it was more horizontal than vertical. Every year for a month or two my fingernails are strong and grow well. No amount of vitamin supplementation has accomplished this. During avocado season when I eat a fruit every day, I get the benefit of decent nails for two months.  My favorite ways to eat these cool, creamy, rich fruits are with a sancocho type stew and the easy peasy way…smashed on toast. Every day I come in from working around 10ish, cut a thick slice of rustic loaf, toast it, then while it cools I pull the thin peel off my sweet little avocado. Today I’m going to add eggs because Dappy Doo and Yalamay got to work early and each delivered a perfect egg before 9:30am.

My perfect triangle, the only addition is kosher salt but today I’m going to kick it up with Hawaiian black sea salt because it’s beautiful.

My perfect little ‘cado,  I know you’re little, but you’re sharing space today.


What a plop of Rustic bread deliciousness, just the right size to fit under my arm like a bag-pipe bladder, perfect for stolen pinches at least for a mile or two…*flashback warning*  but seriously, if you send me to get  bread from the bakery, and it’s warm and it’s crusty and I have to walk two miles home with it under my arm…..don’t expect to have an intact loaf on delivery!


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Butter with a splash of oil
Baby ‘Cado

Black Hawaiian sea salt sprinkled on my double flipped eggs, I don’t like runny yolks on my avocado toast

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I love this brunch! I know every one loves bacon, but this is the best fat source ever.

Flashback: I was indeed sent to the bakery to pick up the loaf of bread. They called it Pansana bread in Nelson, New Zealand. On the long walk home, up the steep hill then on to our house, I picked just a wee bit off the bottom corner to keep me going, then I became the hungry addict, after all we had sports in school, and I walked miles to and from school, and I played so hard on the monkey bars..and no one will notice the little bit gone…
So, anyway next day I hear my name screamed.. out loud…the formal name, very loudly, crazy! like I’m  in for it!  loudly.  I go to the kitchen and my mother has cut the bread and each slice has a huge hole in it. Keep in mind my hands were little and I managed to carve out a lot of soft stuff and still keep the loaf looking good. I’m not sure what went into my Fathers lunchbox that day, but the crust is the best part right?
Anyway, I still had to make the bread journey, but we bought two loaves instead of one for obvious reasons,
I love real bread!
Hungarian Bread
Italian Bread
French Bread
Japanese Bread
Every basic bread!
I love you!
I love your differences, I love your history, I love your groundedness, your simplicity. Thank goodness you are on my table with butter as a precursor to a horrible meal so I don’t pass out on the way home. In fact, take me to dinner, a glass of wine, bread and butter…don’t bother bringing the rest, it’ll probably be disappointing anyway.  I know I’m not the only one eyeing the bread basket, asking for another then another, fess up. I KNOW I’m not alone.

If you want to make a sancocho or more avocado recipes, check out “my columbian recipes” blog. I love her cooking!  I sure could use one of her Limonada de Coco right about now, after our avocado picking.

And here is trusty farmer Ken picking fruit this morning. This is a high ladder and he’s two thirds the way up! Gotta love the guy!









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