Americans eat more guacamole than ever and still can’t agree on what goes in it

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Americans will eat almost anything in guacamole, but nobody agrees on what actually belongs in it. Every batch seems to come with a rule someone insists on breaking: too much of one thing, not enough of another or an ingredient that shouldn’t be anywhere near an avocado. With National Guacamole Day on Sept. 16, the disagreements are only getting louder.

A bowl of guacamole surrounded by tortilla chips, with a lime and salsa blurred in the background.
Photo credit: Depositphotos.

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Guacamole was far less mainstream in the United States before the 1990s, but its popularity accelerated sharply during the decade. Mexican avocados had faced an import ban since 1914 to protect U.S. avocado crops from pests. NAFTA took effect in 1994, adding pressure to open the market, and in 1997 the USDA began allowing approved Mexican Hass avocados into a limited set of northeastern states and Washington, D.C., during winter months. Market access expanded over the following decade, with full nationwide availability reached in 2007.

As Mexican supply grew and year-round access eventually followed, the avocado industry had more fruit to promote, while Super Bowl Sunday was already emerging as one of America’s biggest avocado occasions. Food writer Gustavo Arellano, author of “Taco USA,” later observed that there was a period when more Americans recognized guacamole than knew what an avocado was.

A dip that divides

U.S. per-capita consumption of fresh Hass avocados has risen 260% since 2002. That figure represents a country that went from vague familiarity with guacamole to full adoption, stocking it in grocery stores and making it tableside at parties.

The more people who eat guacamole, the more people who feel entitled to an opinion about what should and should not be inside it. The debate over mix-ins is not a niche food-media conversation. It pulled in a president.

The pea that broke the internet

In July 2015, the New York Times tweeted a guacamole recipe featuring fresh green peas, with the instruction to trust them. The response was swift and bipartisan in its fury. President Barack  Obama, midway through a healthcare-focused Twitter Q&A, paused to make his position clear. He respected the Times but was not buying peas in his guac, preferring onions, garlic and hot peppers; the classic. Jeb Bush, his political opponent on almost every other matter, was just as direct, and the Texas Republican Party weighed in too, treating the recipe as an offense against the state.

Peagate’s reach had little to do with the ingredient itself. Pea guacamole recipes had been circulating online for years before the tweet. The fury was about something else: the sense that a trusted institution had tried to improve something people already considered finished. Guacamole, unlike almost any other dish in the American food conversation, is simple enough that everyone has a way to define what it is supposed to be. That accessibility is precisely what makes it so volatile.

What’s actually going into the bowl

Peas were never really the front line of this debate, and across American kitchens and menus, a far more contentious mix-in conversation has been running in parallel for years. Fruit arrived without announcement and stayed. Pomegranate seeds became a signature of Barrio Cafe’s guacamole in Phoenix, where they add a jeweled crunch and a sharp sweetness against the fat of the avocado. Mango followed, a development that surprises American purists but has genuine Mexican precedent.

Fruit in guacamole is not simply an American invention. Diana Kennedy documented a family recipe from Comonfort, Guanajuato, made with peaches, grapes and pomegranate seeds, while a Mexican government recipe notes that pomegranate or diced watermelon can substitute for tomato. That sweet-heat combination also fits a broader 2026 flavor trend, with fruit-forward heat, meaning tropical fruit paired with jalapeno, habanero and chipotle, identified as an area of growing demand.

Appetite outvotes tradition

Bringing bacon into the bowl is a different argument altogether. Where fruit additions draw on culinary precedent, bacon draws on appetite. The textural case is real, and crispy bacon against smooth avocado solves a contrast problem the dish otherwise doesn’t. Chef Rick Bayless, who has won seven James Beard Awards and built his career on regional Mexican cuisine, has published a bacon guacamole recipe from his book “Fiesta at Rick’s” that layers chipotle peppers, tomato and crumbled bacon into the bowl.

Bacon guacamole divides people who think the dish should stay vegetarian-adjacent from people who think it should taste as good as possible. That argument does not resolve.

Chili crisp is one of the more recent additions to the guacamole conversation. The Chinese condiment, built around fried chiles and aromatics in oil, often adds garlic, shallots, sesame or fermented beans depending on the recipe. Used as a drizzle or light swirl, it adds heat, crunch and deep savory richness with contrast rather than overwhelming the avocado’s green color.

The bowl is personal

WHOLLY Guacamole cited consumer demand for bolder, spicier flavors when it launched its Tajín Chile Lime variety in June 2025, a sign of how deeply the appetite for heat has moved into the mainstream. The mix-in list is getting longer and bolder at both ends of the market, from home kitchens experimenting with chili crisp to refrigerated aisles adding Tajín sachets to guacamole packaging.

The guacamole bowl has always been personal, but the range of what people are putting into it is widening. That expansion does not resolve the underlying argument; it intensifies it. Peagate was not really about peas, and the chili crisp debate is not really about chili crisp. Both tap into the same question: Who gets to decide what this dish is?

Guacamole is approachable enough that no credential is required to hold a strong opinion, which means the debate is permanently open. The molcajete, a pre-Hispanic Mexican grinding vessel used for sauces, has traveled a long way from the kitchens of central Mexico to the big game party and the grocery store refrigerated aisle. Whatever gets added to the bowl next, it will not go uncontested.

Jennifer Allen is a retired professional chef and long-time writer. Her work appears in dozens of publications, including MSN, Yahoo, The Washington Post and The Seattle Times. These days, she’s busy in the kitchen developing recipes and traveling the world, and you can find all her best creations at Cook What You Love.

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