Sunday, March 12, 2017

Alligator Pear

Pop quiz:
Who is familiar with the term "alligator pear" as a name for an avocado?
That's what my grandparents called them.1 Is that an around-here thing? (I could Google it, but that's no fun.) Really, it's a pretty good name, like if an alligator and a pear had a baby, all green and bumpy:

(Though actually if they had a baby, it would probably have teeth, and the thought of an avocado with teeth is horrifying, so let's not think about that.)

I don't really hear it much these days, but maybe I'm just traveling in the wrong circles. I'm going to have to try it on for size (Avocado pear, avocado pear, acovado pear, avopado care, occupado bear, I walk out O'Hare...)

1 That was one of the many culinary peculiarities I had to adapt to when I came to visit my grandparents from the northern hinterlands (and beyond); that, and calling mayonnaise "my-oh-nez" and saying grace and having a soup course and "French bread" (po-boy bread) and eating tomato aspic and cows' tongues and pigs' feet and merlitons and creole cream cheese and pain perdu and animals that still had their eyes...


  1. Of course. But I grew up eating at that same table one or two Times a week. Alligator pear was common usage. Thinking of your grandmother's table. Were you ever served V8 as soup?

    1. Hmm, I don't remember actual V8, but there was definitely plenty of Campbell's Tomato Soup. In hindsight, it strikes me as a funny pleasing mismatch: stick to the slow old-line formality of a multi-course meal, including a soup course, but implementing it with the quick-and-easy convenience of canned soup.

  2. Florida avocados (larger with smooth skin) were much more common than the smaller California (Haas) variety).