FROM GOURMET TO GULLY

The journey of avocado toast from Instagram to Indian streets – a minor rant by Maitri Shah.

When the moody, Botticelli-esque, titular chef in ‘The Bear’ says “F*ck brunch” to his co-worker after a particularly hard day, I imagined the sentiment was felt across the restaurant industry, with most kitchens chiming in with a resounding “Yes Chef!”.

Contrary to its acclaim in the dining stratosphere, I dislike brunch – not for any specific reason other than that I’m lazy, and not even the allure of fluffy eggs layered on creamy avocado atop nutty sourdough can pull me out of bed on a weekend. No dish in recent times has gained favour on the brunch menu quite like avocado toast. Walk into a bistro at eleven on a weekend and you could build a castle of bread topped with green mash.

A version of avocado slathered on toast has existed in food literature previously, but not until its modern-day reinvention did it become a cultural symbol, especially as a brunch staple.

Little did Bill Granger know when he first served the dish in his cafe in Australia – heralding a legacy that would earn him the title ‘King of Breakfast’ and ‘Godfather of Avocado Toast’ – that he was inventing, or at least reinventing, a dish that would go on to spawn one of the most lasting food trends of our time. #avocadotoast has 2.2 million results on Instagram, last I checked. News stories abound blaming millennial spending on avocado toast as the reason for their lack of home-ownership and endless debt and not wanting children…err, you get the drift.

I say trend because the virality of foods is a recent phenomenon. Thanks to the internet, and especially the growing popularity of visual platforms like Instagram, it’s unsurprising that avocado toast has gained popularity relatively recently as a food group that mainly thrives on visual appeal. We’ve all seen the quintessential brunch picture online: shiny, happy people with flutes of tipsy juice at hand, and a loaded mountain of artistically styled avocado toast front and centre. Someone pretends to slice into it, a ‘plandid’ in GenZ parlance. The subtext always is, ‘We’re having a good time’.

The avocado tree is indigenous to Mexico and Central South America. It slowly made its way across the world, gaining popularity for its buttery, nutritious fruit, and finally found a place for itself in the breakfast/brunch hall of fame. A version of avocado slathered on toast has existed in food literature previously, but not until its modern-day reinvention did it become a cultural symbol, especially as a brunch staple. Brunch itself has become insanity, especially in India where it is as much about the experience as it is about the food, albeit an experience that is accessible to only a select demographic. Brunch is an aspirational experience, something to dress up for, something to tell your friends about when you meet them for another round of brunch. It’s a way to socialise and unwind, yes, but it doesn’t hurt to get some pictures for the ‘gram. Even so, brunch on the ‘gram is hardly how most Indians eat when stepping outside their homes.

Eating out in India can mean any number of things: a quick idli and filter coffee at a local darshini, a busy weeknight dinner at the neighbourhood family-style restaurant, that once-a-year fancy place reserved for birthdays and special treats, a quick pani puri catch-up session with a friend.

The avo toast trend makes me think about how deeply influenced we are by the internet. The Gujju in me wonders if there really was a market for it here.

We enjoy our food and we like to focus on the entire ugly deliciousness of it. The ambience is usually an afterthought. Despite all our modern-day experiences – food pop-ups and curated cloud kitchens, and farm-to-table degustation menus – our expensive food experiences are largely left for occasions. It is our street food that features as part of our regular eating life. We stop for it on the way to or back from work, on a quick jaunt with friends, or midway through errands. It is cheap, filling, customisable, and sometimes (ok, often) unhealthy, but it is always flavourful and satisfying.

Avocados don’t quite fit the mould. So I was astonished when I first chanced upon a viral video of a street food vendor in Surat wielding his knife to expertly halve avocados to create a most wonderful riff on avocado toast. It had onions, tomatoes, and chutneys, and optional cheese. The mix topped buttery toasted brown bread and served with a mint-coriander green chutney alongside. It looked smashing. The assembly itself was a performance.

With a price that was much steeper than other kinds of street food, this may be a niche offering. But as was clear from the video, it was hugely popular. Queues were forming to try this new, healthy, ‘upmarket’ street food.

A second video soon popped up with a street chef claiming to cater to celebrities. (“I made this for Malaika Arora once,” he quipped on screen.) This vendor used sourdough and made a restaurant-worthy toast. Another video popped up, this time from my hometown Vadodara, with yet another street vendor making healthy avocado toast. More and more of this fruit has been popping up not only on menus but also in markets. There is something about avocado toast that catches people’s attention. The fact that it isn’t indigenous to our country, and is distinctly ‘foreign’ does play a role.

The avo toast trend makes me think about how deeply influenced we are by the internet. The Gujju in me wonders if there really was a market for it here. A quick survey tells me that indeed, there is. In 2023, India’s avocado imports grew by a whopping 450 percent over two years. Several new import treaties are in place that would make them cheaper and more accessible as the demand grows. Local farmers in India- largely in Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and Maharashtra are farming them, thanks to favourable climate conditions. Goa, Arunachal Pradesh, and Nagaland have shown potential along with other regions, with small-scale farming already happening in Amritsar and Bhopal.

Worldwide, the demand has risen exponentially – so much so that Mexican drug cartels are now choosing to deal in avocados instead. The huge popularity and profitability of growing avocados have been a blessing and a curse for local Mexican farmers. It has brought them unprecedented levels of prosperity and invoked the interest of locally organised crime cartels who want a piece of the action. After all, Mexico exports about half of the world’s avocados and substantially controls their trade. The economics seem to be working. There is a clear and definite rising demand, and the world is scrambling to supply.

The wellness and health industry too has heavily claimed this superfood. Avocado marketing engines are in overdrive. Will the fruit cure fertility issues? Will it increase your HDL? Will it give you your daily micronutrients, and make your hair pretty? Yes, yes, and yes.  

Yes, we would happily shell out extra money to eat delicious avocado on toast. But is the average Indian truly that much more health-conscious now? Did the post-covid world bring a sense of health literacy that was missing in our eating-out repertoire? Is this an indication of a newer consumer emerging, one that can and will spend on healthier, trendier experiences? Or is it just the ‘Sharmaji ka beta’ syndrome applied to our food habits: “If they can, why can’t we?”

Is it just another way to say yes to a trend that seems to be more in service to the appearance of a lifestyle? Is it for a photo on the internet that says, “Hey, we do our version of brunch too? We’ve arrived.”

Avocados are very influenceable too, and ripe for customisation. Knowing how Indians love coaxing out exactly the flavours we want from our meals, avo toast has now acquired a little nimbu, mirchi, dhaniya, zest, and spice and zing. It would not be surprising anymore to see a version of a desi avocado dish that the rest of the world isn’t quite ready for. It is already making its presence felt in a way that makes it more commonplace here, influenced by our fiery Indian palate. I see avocado mash tikkis, and avo-enriched parathas, and sev puris with avocado filling. I recently stumbled into a cafe in Bangalore, aptly named ‘Avoke’, that only served dishes made from avocados. Some India-inspired, some fused with other cuisines, all in keto, vegan, and Jain options, of course. I love experimenting with my avo toast too. A little pudina chutney and sev sprinkled on top is *chef’s kiss*.

We can call the ‘avo toast meets desi street food’ trend whatever we want – aspirational, trendy, a health fad, or ‘green gold’ for the economy, as the Mexicans do – this is a dish that is here to rule our menus, on the streets, and off them.