Ensalada de Aguacate con Cotija

This comes from Michoacán, from the avocado country around Uruapan and the cheese country that points toward Cotija. Two local treasures on one plate. Not a garnish. Not something to hide under lettuce. Avocado and Cotija can stand in the center of the table because both have earned it.

The avocado gives the fat here. No manteca, no crema, no heavy dressing. The cheese brings salt and age. Cotija should crumble dry between your fingers and smell clean, milky, a little sharp. If it tastes like refrigerator air, buy from another counter. Si no conoces el mercado, no conoces la cocina.

The technique is restraint. Thin onion softened with lime. Serrano for a clean bite, not to prove anything. Mexican oregano rubbed between the fingers so its perfume opens over the avocado. I watched women in Michoacán serve versions like this beside beans, grilled meat, or a stack of warm tortillas, always family-style, usually in green-glazed barro. Cada estado, su propia cocina.

My mother used to say that a cook shows herself in the small dishes. Anyone can pretend with a big pot. A salad this short has nowhere to hide. Good avocado, real Cotija, enough lime, steady hand. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.