For my beloved Brother who introduced me to the art of cooking, who taught me how to taste and truly love food. Without him I'd never be able to be where I am today.

February 16, 2011

Mr. Avocado and I

In the absence of cosy, hectic market places with stressed out salesmen yelling out special “everything has to go”- prices during the last hour before clean up, I drag my feet across the halogen lighted supermarket corridor. I swear the shelves could fall on me any minute. My iPod whispers some old French music into my ears. I can't help but feel nostalgic and make a trip down memory lane to the time when I used to live in Toulouse. My home street came to life every morning by the enthusiastic fresh-food junkies buying the ingredients for a lovely lunch with friends and family. It was probably one of the best places in the world to be a little curious food-loving girl from Finland. For some reason, every charming grey-haired salesman wanted me to taste their most delicious products. Those days are long gone now. Here in Sweden absolutely no one offers me a juicy slice of fruit in exchange for a shy smile. 

The only shot of finding reasonably tasty fruits and vegetables here in the cold North during winter especially, is to close your eyes and randomly pick one of the plastic-like, stone-hard, fragrance free, spiritless wannabe things available at this hideous supermarket and pretend it is what it's supposed to be. There I am, extremely reluctant, about to perform the selection of an avocado. I grab an avocado that feels pretty good in my hand. The blueish super market light reflecting from the soulless avocado blinds me painfully. Not okay. Just as I was about to leave the poor creature in his misery, I spotted a beautiful individual shining through the bunch of wannabes. Hello lover! I changed the avocado I first picked to Him. He feels perfect: not too soft, not too firm. His colour is dark and inviting, He even has a slight perfume. I carry Him between my two hands and gently place Him in the hands of the cashier. I wonder why she looks at my strangely. Never mind, she can't possibly understand the beauty of this finding, this sudden and utterly unexpected love affair.

I run home fast as lightning with Him safe and warm in my pocket. Oh, what a feeling of joy and happiness! At home, in the kitchen, we stare at each other, me and Him, just before I sink the knife straight into His heart. I'm letting the knife make its trace and what I discover is sheer paradise! He opens himself up to me and lets his heart fall out as if He's trusting me fully. He smells sweet and creamy. He almost fell out of his skin! His vivid light green colour is too good to be true. My mouth watering, I open the Himalaya pink salt jar I got for Christmas and sprinkle just a tiny bit of salt on Him. Spoon!

I can just say that the we went all the way and He definitely didn't disappoint me.


  1. Well-expressed indeed. A meticilous text authored for those who has still not 'tasted' the real 'taste' of food and 'food tasting'. As a matter of fact, as soon as I finished reading your piece, I thought of Ratatouille deeply breathing in the smell of food.

  2. Thank You ever so such for Your encouraging feed-back. I'm happy to hear that my post made You think of Ratatouille: It's a wonderful dish with different magnificent tastes brought delicately together in perfect harmony, creating the perfumed richness of a balanced whole. It's one of those simple dishes, that still can go so very wrong if one doesn't respect every single element in the preparation.

  3. well, I meant the animation film:)both are magnificient anyways;)

  4. My bad! I thought that You might as well mean the film. Anyway... Like You said it, both the film and the dish are great! Thanks again.


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