The result? Guactacular.
Guactacular is exactly what it sounds like -- a guacamole competition on steroids. Paul was one of the aforementioned 21 foodie competitors and spent the last two weeks concocting a perfect recipe, with liquid smoke, barbecue rub and a chimichurri sauce.
The name: Guac-ker, Texas Ranger.
He spent hours on Sunday slicing avocados, dicing peppers, and sauteing onions before we had to be at the Bell House, a bar just a few miles north of here where the contest was held. The bar has a large event space in the back, where we spent 90 minutes scooping spoonfuls of the good stuff into tiny disposable condiment bowls and telling the 275 people who bought $15 tickets what made this guac so special and why they should vote for it.
It was a sold-out event.
While Paul didn't walk away with any of the prizes, he does think that by entering he can officially count himself as a hipster. I say he has to consistently use Twitter first.
Personally, I wish there also would have been a poster competition. I lost count of the number of people who took a photo of the sign I slaved over that morning. Yes, I'm proud.
And by "slaved over," I mean I spent maybe an hour or so on it, compared to the good three or four hours Paul spent in the kitchen on Sunday. Almost the same.
I didn't take as many pictures as I wished because, frankly, we were too busy. Feeding 275 people in a timely fashion is ... well, it's just as difficult as it sounds, even if you are doling out only spoonfuls at a time
Luckily, Metromix posted tons of great photos of the event, and I'm crossing my fingers that the winning recipes will appear on Nachos NY, the group that started the whole Guactacular shindig. Although, as a loyal wife, I must say that Paul's guacamole will always be No. 1 in my heart. And stomach.
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