Miss Ellis

Just someone saying guacamole used to make me cringe. Forget for a moment that I had no idea what it was. It just sounded weird. I credit my dear friend Amy, who was my New York City roommate, for introducing me to what is now one of my favorite things to eat.

Amy and I met at the Parkside Evangeline, a women-only residence on Gramercy Park that was run by the Salvation Army. We were both attending the same acting school, and I am really lucky to have found her. I felt so out of place at school, and hanging with Amy was a very good thing. She is a smart, funny, unpretentious girl who wanted to explore the city and have fun.

The Parkside opened in 1963 and not much had changed when Amy and I showed up in 1981. The front door was locked each night at 11. Sure, you could get in after that, but you?d be met with horrifying scowls and someone to measure you for a scarlet A.

No men were allowed past the second-floor common room, where we were able to meet with our gentlemen callers. It didn?t matter if you had a heavy TV and wanted your (insert male relative here) to help you get it to your 16th-floor room, which was located about a half mile from the elevator. If you had external reproductive organs, you were not getting past the second floor.

The Parkside was run by a zaftig Southern blond named Miss Pierce. Miss Pierce never called us by our first names. I was Miss White and Amy was Miss Ellis. It didn?t take long before Amy and I began addressing each other this way as well. The Parkside was a combination of the film Stage Door crossed with Gary Larson?s Far Side. Most of the time Amy and I just stood back and watched the madness trying not to laugh out loud. Living at the Parkside with all those women was great prep for the heavily distaff world I would encounter years later in magazine publishing.

Walking was Amy?s preferred method of transportation. We journeyed to Staten Island once and the only reason we didn?t walk the whole way was because there was water involved. We would spend entire Sundays just walking: up to the Met, hitting Central Park along the way and maybe cruising east of Fifth Avenue to see what was going on. During one of our outings, we walked by Pancho Villa?s, a Mexican restaurant on First Avenue in the 60s. Amy declared that she was hungry and that we should go in and eat.

?I?ve never eaten Mexican food before,? I told her, scared to walk into the place.

?I think you?ll like it, Miss White,? she said and lead me in.

When she ordered guacamole, I couldn?t believe it. I was expecting something gross, like a small vat of primordial ooze with eels and eyeballs floating in it, but it looked tame enough. It came in a small cerulean bowl accompanied by a batch of warm tortilla chips.

Amy dug in and urged me to try it. I scooped some onto a chip and put it in my mouth. The first cool, chunky bite had so many flavors?avocado, cilantro, tomato, citrus?I kept eating, trying to distinguish each one. I told Amy that it wasn?t what I expected, and before I knew it, I had pretty much emptied the bowl of guacamole.

Amy and I have eaten at many of New York?s Mexican restaurants, and my favorite remains Tio Pepe on West 4th Street. When we moved into an apartment near the World Trade Center after two years of Parkside living, we would often negotiate who would stop by Tio Pepe?s on the way home with dinner.

The Parkside was sold a few years back and is being turned into condos. Sad, but not surprising.

Amy eventually moved back to her beloved home state of Florida, and each year on my birthday I am greeted with an email that begins, ?Dear Miss White.? Every time I make guacamole I think of Miss Ellis and the culinary world she brought me into. And I long for the day when I can once again negotiate with someone to stop by Tio Pepe?s and pick up dinner.

Guacamole
Serves 4

Guacamole really reflects the personality of the person making it. I?m a low-maintenance chick, so I normally roll with avocado, a few tablespoons of good pico de gallo, a little lime juice, cayenne and salt and pepper. I chose a more traditional way of making the guac here so you can see that I can step up my game when I want to. Unless specifically requested, I don?t use jalapeño. If you are thinking of adding mayonnaise, put that out of your mind. Using mayo in guac can get you incarcerated in some places. Don?t risk it.

4 avocados
1 medium tomato, seeded and chopped
1 small shallot, finely chopped
1 jalapeño, seeded and chopped (optional)
Juice from 1 lime
Salt and pepper
A few dashes cayenne pepper
A few tablespoons chopped cilantro

1. Cut avocados in half and remove the pit. Scoop out the flesh and place into a large mixing bowl. Mash it according to how chunky you like your guac.

2. Stir in the remaining ingredients and serve immediately with a big honking bowl of chips.