It was only a garnish with a plate of chicken, and it was only about a fifth of one, nowhere near the whole thing. But there it was, bright buttery yellow with a rim of delectable green, and it tasted so good.
So sweet, I could see immediately how tasty it would be as a sugary drink, say–something that had never occurred to me about avocadoes until a few years ago, when some Ecuadoran guy told me this was standard practice.
And I’d never imagine saying this was a positive, but it was a little watery, almost succulent. This wasn’t the typical I’m-so-rich-and-fatty boasting of your standard Haas. This av was more confident–it stood on its own, and it was very clearly a fruit, which isn’t usually obvious with a grocery-store avocado.
This all went down at the fantastic Restaurante Los Tres Reyes, in TizimÃn. Ideally when you go, I would hope you get to see the bullfight on TV, and get the good waiter: an older guy with gray hair in a ponytail, thick glasses and a jaunty hat. He knows what you want, and he just gives it to you. He’s proud of the food: the handmade tortillas (you can hear the pat-pat-pat back behind the screen–and then see the operation when you duck back there to use the toilets), and the fried winter squash, and he just tells you to get the special, which in my case was pollo en pipian.
I was expecting a thick green sauce, but this was reddish and light and bright, a little earthy, but the taste of the chicken really stood out. This may have been a chicken I saw strutting around by a speed bump just hours before, for all I know. I’d be raving about the chicken if it weren’t for that avocado.
About two-thirds of the way through my chicken (a thigh, a leg and a wing), I realized I’d totally overlooked the black-bean soup. Which was also delicious. And did I mention the smoky habanero salsa? And of course fresh chips.
Oh, and I have a huge soft spot for ridiculous boasting in a restaurant context (viz. Kabab Cafe): Los Tres Reyes says, in very fancy Spanish, that at the turn of the millennium, it is proud to be serving its fine customers, and testifies that it will serve them until the year 3000. And its food is “tradicional, tipica, regional, nacional, internacional, mundial e interplanetaria.” I can repeat this because my lovely waiter gave me a souvenir business card, after a brief lecture on the health benefits of chaya (a great leafy green that grows everywhere here), as well as an utterly perfect little cup of coconut pudding, flecked with chewy bits of coconut flesh and served with a shaker of cinnamon, so I could season as I pleased.
And was I ever pleased, as is abundantly clear by now. The trouble with Los Tres Reyes is that it’s in Tizimin, which is just a big cow town, and sometimes where people change buses. It’s genuinely worth getting off the bus for, but I doubt anyone will. Basically, the chance of any tourist not traveling in his own car, and not utterly obsessed with food, actually going to this place is nil. But for those who do: make sure you get some avocado on the side.