By now, many students have probably heard about the transatlantic calamity foodies are facing: “avocado hand.” I heard it first via Remezcla, a media brand by and for young Latin Americans. Their content, which is frequently shared on Facebook, angles their news and culture stories with a new focus, straying from traditionally respected Latin media outlets. Andrea Gompf’s opening statement reading: “The world’s love affair with avocados apparently comes with a dark side: rising demand is fueling illegal deforestation in Mexico gringos keep cutting their hands opening them.”
The article, like many that have sprung up regarding the matter, carries on to explain that “avocado hand” has become a serious problem, as reported by British news service The Times. As Gompf cites, “British avocado eaters are landing in the emergency room with avocado-related hand injuries so frequently that surgeons are calling it ‘Avocado Hand…’ — the accidents being largely due to lack of knowledge in handling the fruit. But Remezcla’s initial use of ridicule and humor is more than a confident display of culture or California and Mexican avocado privilege — it is an attempt to shed light on the irresponsible and gluttonous global demand of avocados.
As someone who makes guacamole for a living, I can say that the few knife incidents I have had were due to carelessness while chopping food on a cutting board. Cooks must always heed the “spider-fingers” technique while cutting, slicing, etc., (curving the fingers on the hand which holds the food in place, i.e. the one that doesn’t hold the knife). But this becomes moot for avocados which are normally cupped in the hand, away from the safety of the surface. And while I can say that I have developed a knack for handling the fruit, it was a learning process which developed over time.
As it were, I came across an incident during one my early food service jobs. I was working an event at the Long Beach Convention Center, and I was assigned to slice several cases of avocados. Myself and a co-worker were quickly thwarted: the avocados we were given were not anywhere near ripe. They were green as hell and hard as baseballs. Our self-confidence was surely tested as we suffered case after case, pitting and shelling and knicking our fingers all for a quick taste of omega-3s — in the end, nothing more than a trendy garnish to make the food appear more haute.
In retrospect, it was a glimpse of what would end up happening worldwide. The increase in demand for avocados has resulted in impatient handling of them, which in itself represents how supply of avocados is impacted. While avocados are not solely sourced from Mexico, they are the world’s largest supplier and Central Mexico has been dealing with the brunt of that responsibility.
Last fall, many restaurants stateside felt the shortage in avocados — my place of work had to full-on stop serving them for about a month. This demand is undoubtedly correlated to the lucrative efforts of Mexican avocado farmers, who have been contributed to the major deforestation in Central Mexico, Newsweek reported in an August 2016 article. And even so, agriculture’s leading news outlet The Packer reports in a recent April piece that Mexican avocado production has dropped due to the fruit’s natural growing cycles.
However, the article also indicates that Mexican avocado suppliers are not fazed by the 20 percent decrease in production because of increase in global demand. Dr. Ramón Paz, strategic advisor for Michoacan’s Avocado Producer and Exporting Packer Association, does conclude that while U.S. exports slightly decreased, there was an increase in distribution to Japan, Canada, Europe, China and South America.
The most dramatic and exaggerated productions of avocado consumption are seen in avocado themed-restaurants abroad like Tokyo’s Madosh! Cafe, or Amsterdam’s Avocado Show — where the fruit is creatively showcased beyond the scope of popularized dishes like avocado toast.
If global demand helps Mexican avocado farmers stay in business, there needs to be less of a year-round demand. Avocados are apparently coming at a physically taxing price across the pond, why can’t the market sacrifice some of the demand in order to be more intuitive to the fruit’s natural production?
I know these are idealist waves in a sea full of capitalist sharks. Nevertheless, in the Marxist expression: We cannot tell from the taste of the avocado the conditions from which it was grown. The fruit’s nutty, rich flavor does not taste like exploitative production or deforestation — it’s delicate, palatable for nutty, rich people around the world.
For my family, avocados have always been a patient process. In fact, my grandparents from my mother’s side once owned an orchard in Michoacan, where my grandmother is from – themselves driven out of business by major exporters unwilling to pay what the fruit was worth in order to increase their own profit. My mother recalls the summer she worked the fields; the smell of manure and soil, the clouds rolling through the hills — merging the material earth with the spiritual.
Now the landscape’s emerald forests are gone, the spirits’ whispers trampled by agribusiness. And while rest of the world grabs the avocado before it’s ready, while they beg the seed for the fruit it is unable to offer and slice their hands open as consequence — we wait, and we wait for the price to fall.