Skip to main content

Avocado Tchotchkes

“Can you believe this? Everything is gone!

It was 7:00 p.m., we were headed home after sampling the 29th Annual Fallbrook, California, Avocado Festival. As if by magic all traces of  frantic activity had disappeared when we left that evening, including the traffic.

Only a few hours before a nine-block section of Main Street was closed to vehicles and converted to - avocado nirvana? If you’ve never visited the village of Fallbrook, it is an unincorporated community in northern San Diego County of about 30,500 residents. This quiet community is known for it’s avocado groves and claims the title “Avocado Capital of the World.”

Before leaving for the festival that morning all our friends could talk about was the grandeur of avocados; an art contest, a children's avocado race, and so much more. We glanced at the local newspaper.  “Unbelievable - this festival draws anywhere from 70,000 to 100,000 people. Where in the world will all these people park?”

We threw a few bottles of water in a backpack and made our way downtown. There must have been over 250 tchotchke vendors selling everything from slingshots to Direct TV subscriptions. And throngs of people six deep as far as you could see. Where was the the Art of the Avocado Contest, the Best Decorated Avocado, for that matter we could not even find the guacamole contest? 

“This street is packed. How many days did it take to set all this up?” I practically yelled to our host over the roar of the crowd.

“I was downtown last night, none of this was here,” he admitted.

Finally we stumbled upon one of the Holy Guaca-Moly booths and got a free sample. “Yep, this tastes great “- but what’s the big deal, I thought. Well, it turns out avocados are a very healthy food source. Some benefits include; promote heart health, provide anti-inflammatory benefits, they support cardiovascular health, promote blood sugar regulators, and claim anti cancer benefits. Wow, one of natures magic foods. So where are all the avocados?

Finally after wandering the street we stopped into the chamber of commerce office and asked, “We’re looking for the Avo 500 children’s car race can you point us in that direction, please?”

As an avid soapbox derby racer in my youth, I’ll admit I was drawn to the Avo 500. Contestants did not bring their racing machine to the event, they selected an avocado and built them on the spot. Or should I say, their parents built them as they entered their names in the contest, shhhh? Oh well, it was fun to watch the colorfully decorated and carved avocados with plastic wheels slide, roll, tumble, and flip down the raceway. One kid even entered a pit. No it wasn’t a pit stop, but a completely stripped avocado. The race official chirped, “We definitely need to change the rules for next year.”

The winner turns out is the village of Fallbrook. According to the chamber of commerce, the Avocado Festival costs about $70,000 to put on, but generates more than $1 million in revenues for merchants.

My friend James introduced me to one of the locals, Rick Hill, owner of Retro Candy and Toys in the heart of downtown. Exploring his store was like stepping back in time. Open baskets of Saltwater Taffy, Redhots, Bitta Honey, Jawbreakers, Wax Lips, even Daisy BBs. I wouldn’t recommend eating the BBs. 

Coincidently while researching this piece I found a quote from Rick in The San Diego Union Tribune, “We do about three weeks’ worth of business in one day,” Hill said. “It’s nonstop.” The shop sells all sorts of sweets and toys, “but avocado fudge is by far the biggest seller.”

In all the hubbub we never did find the avo fudge. Tchotchke collectors mark your calendar, next years event is scheduled for late April. Oh, if you’re looking for avocados all the local markets sell them in season, everyone grows avocado trees in their yards, and you can have them shipped to you from Avocados Direct.

I’m still shaking my head, sadly what the event has become is a tchotchke survivalist festival hiding behind natures magic treat - the avocado.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

Morning Coffee

In this episode, Morning Coffee . . . Now, I’m not saying everyone needs coffee. Some folks get by just fine on, I don’t know, sunlight and positive thinking. Me? I’m pretty sure I started drinking the stuff sometime around the Reagan administration. Reading John Gierach’s "Ode to Campfire Coffee" in Trout Bum (a book that should be required reading for anyone who sees sleeping on the ground as recreation) got me thinking about how we’ve managed to complicate something as fundamentally simple as boiling water and adding grounds. Taste, you say? Look, black coffee is an acquired taste, like tequila or cilantro. I just don’t get it. Gierach, bless his heart, mostly drinks his java streamside, probably while wearing wool socks and waders and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. As for me? My outdoor coffee experience is a bit different. Picture this: the High Sierra, where campfires are banned (to avoid agitating Smoky Bear), and I’m huddled over a Whisperlite , coax...

The Endless Work of Wisdom

It always makes me smile. The moment people learn I've officially entered what I like to call the Great Un-Working (retirement), they almost immediately ask the same question: “So . . . What do you do now?" I think they're expecting me to say I'm restoring a vintage sports car, hiking the John Muir Trail, or finally becoming fluent in French.   Instead, I tell them: "I live life deliberately." That's usually the point when I get a polite nod, followed by the unmistakable look of someone wondering whether I've simply found a more sophisticated way to say, “I’m becoming a bum.” Apparently, "living deliberately" sounds suspiciously like unemployment, just better branding. The truth is, what living deliberately looks like for me right now is taking time to synthesize a lifetime of experiences into these weekly reflections. It's slowing down long enough to ask what those experiences have taught me, while keeping the door wide open to the poss...

A Tucson Typewriter Tale

One of the great joys of wandering without much of a plan is that the universe occasionally rewards your lack of organization. During my recent visit to Tucson, AZ, Robert and I were strolling through the Annex this afternoon, doing what tourists and newly minted retirees like me have elevated to an Olympic sport: meandering. The Annex is one of those places where every few steps there's another handmade candle, artisan coffee, or vintage object someone rescued from a garage sale and convinced the rest of us was always destined to become art. Then I saw something that genuinely stopped me. A young woman standing quietly behind a manual typewriter. Not a laptop designed to look like a typewriter. Not a quirky Bluetooth keyboard. An honest-to-goodness mechanical typewriter—the sort of machine that once announced every sentence to the entire office with a satisfying clack and enough force to wake nearby pigeons. With an iPhone 16 sitting in my pocket in an age when people write novels...