Saturday, April 27, 2013

Mock Guacamole

Mock Guacamole
submitted by Janet Seal, location unknown
compiled by Linda Taylor

How fondly I remember my childhood in the sun-dappled fields south of San Luis Obispo, when we children would pluck artichokes fresh from the stalk, and Maria (our kindly maid) would make us her homemade hollandaise to dip the fresh-steamed leaves in.  When mother and father returned from solving their most recent murder mystery...

...oh wait, that was my pretend tv family, not my actual family.

My actual family, in the suburbs west of Columbus, Ohio, DID have hollandaise, but mock hollandaise - mayonnaise, lemon juice and garlic powder, microwaved into a yellowish blob of goo with the viscosity of shaving cream.  Still, pretty close to the taste of actual hollandaise with less than half the effort of making it.

Which led me to believe, naturally, that any foodstuff with "mock" preceding it was supposed to approximate the taste of the food it was mocking. Spoiler alert in case you don't want to read to the end:  I was wrong.

A recent second-hand store find was the colorful binder pictured below, titled "Linda Taylor's Recipes" on the front, and full of hand-written and newspaper-clipped recipes lovingly pasted, scrapbook-style, onto pieces of notebook paper.
Mock Guacamole, found only six pages in, perhaps comes from the days before you could find six bushels of avocados languishing in your grocery's produce section, ready for purchase year-round.  It also seems to be a dietetic alternative to real avocados, before we knew that some sorts of fat were good for you (though, as it appears on the same page as bacon-wrapped scallops, I'm not sure that's what Linda Taylor had in mind).

At any rate, it's horrific.

Here's the recipe:

2 (10 1/2-ounce) cans cut asparagus, drained.
1 cup finely chopped tomato
1/4 cup finely chopped onion
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon reduced-calorie mayonnaise
1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/4 teaspoon hot sauce

Position knife blade in food processor bowl; add asparagus. Process until smooth; transfer to a mixing bowl. Stir in tomato and remaining ingredients. Place mixture in a paper towel-lined wire-mesh strainer or colander, and let drain 1 hour. Cover and chill at least 3 hours. Serve with baked tostito chips, instead of fried.

Don't get me wrong, I love asparagus. Fresh, preferably, but I'm not opposed to canned if it's all that's available.  But let me tell you something, there is NO WAY to process asparagus until "smooth". It's stringy and slimy and lumpy, and to make it smooth would defy the laws of physics.

Already suspicious by the texture of the pureed asparagus, and skeptical of the upcoming instruction to drain in a paper towel-lined colander, I threw caution to the wind and went ahead and used real full-fat mayonnaise. It didn't help.

What we thought: Husband wouldn't touch it, leaving me to taste-test it myself.

It's canned asparagus run through a food processor. That's exactly what it tastes like. Horrible. This is coming from someone who's eaten Banana Salmon Salad and Ring-Around-The-Tuna. Don't make this, even as a dare.
Our Rating: I don't know...what's the rating when Husband won't even try it?

(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Husbands. One Screaming Husband equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Husbands signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)


  1. Your bravery knows no bounds! I cannot stop referring to this as "mockamole" in my head, and I shudder when I think about the taste and texture of pureed canned asparagus.

  2. I have been making this recipe for years and I love it! We used fresh steamed asparagus.