I was very pleased with myself. I had scored a big bag of beautiful Hass avocadoes from my local market, and all of them perfectly ripe and ready, not the solid bullets you sometimes find. Bargain price too.
I have played with many guacamole recipes over the years, and my signature version is what I call "Japamole". It includes some wasabi, the brain-tingling Japanese mustard, and a few other little Japanese touches. With my bargain bag of avocadoes, I would make a big bowl of it, and take it with crudites and tortilla chips round to my neighbour Erika's that evening. She has visitors from a Finland and a few of us were having an impromptu Saturday night get together, all bringing a dish.
Back home with my haul from the market, I started to halve, peel and stone the avocadoes. To remove the stone, I do the cheffy trick of a karate-chop with the sharp edge of a large knife, so it is slightly embedded in the stone, then twist and lift the stone out. The avocadoes looked amazing, just perfectly ripe and luscious.
Text message. It's Erika, checking what everyone is bringing tonight. "My special guacamole!", I text back. Reply: "Hannah's already bringing her husband's guacamole, can u do something else?" Something else?! "Okay, no problem!", I lie. So I have eight large avocadoes already halved in a bowl, and a potato masher in my hand. Hannah's husband Mauricio is Mexican. I can't compete. But I certainly need to do something with all these avocadoes. And quick.
This is definitely a time to turn to my favourite cookbook -- the internet. I wipe the avocado from my hands, and start scrolling through page after page of avocado recipes:
* Guacamole. Out of the question.
* Salads. Too many other ingredients I don't have.
* Soups. No good for a buffet.
* Cleansing face masks. Oh for Heavens sake.
Then I see it. Avocado lime ice cream. As well as my mashed avocadoes, I just need lime juice, honey and whipping cream. Check. I have all three. Genius.
For every two avocadoes, I add 120 ml of lime juice and the same quantity of runny honey, and blitz in my blender. I then fold in 240ml of cream and pour the elegant pale green mix into my trusty Tupperware Jel-Ring mould, then slide it into the freezer and hope for the best.
Needless to say, Hannah's husband's guacamole was delicious, with a lovely spiky touch of chilli with the creamy avocado. People knew I had brought dessert, but until I unmoulded the ring of pale green ice cream, no-one had a clue what it was. I quickly toasted some desiccated coconut in a dry pan, and sprinkled it on top as I scooped the ice cream into bowls.
Some people were a little reluctant, not wanting to be impolite, but also not very keen to try this unusual ice cream. But not for long. It was a real triumph. They really really loved it.
Next day, I had to send the recipe around on Facebook, and every couple of months since then, someone lets me know they have made it themselves. The Finnish guests couldn't get enough of it, and the recipe has now gone global!
Dare I try it with wasabi?