The “Avo! Cado!” chants emanating from behind an unassuming ivy-draped fence could be heard from down the street, thanks to the voices of the hundred-plus fanatics high on monounsaturated fat and adrenaline.
Tradition, innovation, and passion abounded at San Francisco’s annual Guac Off. Now in its 14th year, the gathering has become a city institution alongside hill bombs and kink fairs. This past Saturday, the guacamole faithful flocked to the massive and eclectic Bernal home on Folsom St. to see which of the 67 guacs would come out on top. Bags of chips, donated from Nopalito, adorned every table, corner, and usable surface. Children, animals, queens, and laypersons (many clad in green) milled about the yard, sipping cans, high-fiving, and shoveling guac into their mouths.
The Guac Off started modestly at a bar in 2011, a handful of friends looking to bring their neighborhood together. And that it does: Some attendees have been going since the beginning, while others stumbled in from the street and were greeted with friendliness, music, and a largesse of guac.
The low stakes, anything-goes competition is straightforward: Competitors must bring their own vessels and a guacamole creation made of no fewer than eight avocados. Clever and/or ridiculous names are not just encouraged, but a requirement. Guacophiles taste and cast votes on their favorites, and an expert team of judges weighs in. Winners are dealt prizes from local businesses including Peak Designs, August Hall, and Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack. Everyone who loves guacamole is a winner.
Some, like the Guac-Elote (a prize winner), were an obvious slam dunk: a traditional, salty guac featuring corn and chili powder. Others, such as the avocado chocolate chia pudding, gnawed at the dip’s outermost limit: tasters’ apprehension was made evident by the fullness of the bowl among a sea of pillage. One competitor prompted ChatGPT to write a “new, unique recipe for guacamole that will stand out from the rest” and came up with pomegranate-mango guacamole with Cotija cheese. It certainly caught eyes (and confused tastebuds), but it did not win any prizes. Another, the Blandiel Lurie — just avocado and salt — sacrificed competition for commentary.
Sister Amor Ah'Quality of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, flanked by a rowdy entourage of judges and Karl the Fog (did the city send him?) provided a blessing ahead of the award ceremony:
“Let us bow our heads, but keep our chips high as we consecrate this most righteous gathering. Oh, divine avocado, you who ripen it in mysterious ways, we beseech thee.”
The esteemed panel of judges included San Francisco Chronicle food critic MacKenzie Cheung Fagan, New York Times San Francisco bureau chief Heather Knight (who had a few too many bites of Blandiel Lurie and blurted “SF is back” into the microphone), Emperor Norton himself, Casper the Cockatoo, a distinguished civilian named Rowan (read: a total random who stumbled upon the conclave), Sister Amor, and Dr. Richard Patel, a.k.a. Dr. Avocado.
Awards were given in categories including smoothest texture, youngest chef, and heaviest bowl (R.I.P. Terrance the Turtle — you make a great guac vessel) were dished out, but only one guac could be crowned champion. In the end, Guac-y Road, a strange avocado ice cream dipped in spicy mole with Bugles chips, reigned supreme.
“We talked about it for months,” said Guac-y Road co-creator Raj Mistry, adorned in a green sequin jacket. He and his co-guacers Bryan Lewis and Silas Valentino — easily spotted in their paper boat hats — developed their winning dish over multiple meetings and iterations, enlisting close friends and confidants for critiques. I was skeptical, but their guile paid off; it was oddly delicious. But was it guacamole?
Perhaps that’s not the point. To quote Sister Amor, “May we all remember that in the end, we are all children of the same beautiful bubbly-skinned fruit.”
