What did we get up to while our kids’ time away overlapped for two weeks this summer? Did we go on vacation? Did we party every night? The truth is honestly embarrassing, so middle-aged coded, Deb of the early Smitten Kitchen years would rage and weep. [“You promised you wouldn’t get lame!”] I got… orthotics. And even worse than considering this newsworthy, I love them. I caught up on appointments. I challenged myself to finish books before they were overdue at the library and occasionally pulled it off. Sometimes I drank an entire 8 glasses of water and went to bed by 10:30pm. Sure, we went out. We had uninterrupted conversations. We drank Hugo spritzes. We saw dogs playing in a kiddie pool set up in front of an open fire hydrant and lamented that the kids were missing it, then reloaded their last locations and photos from the camp stream a million more times. We said things to each other like, “I miss the kids, but not parenting.” I watched this clip and it emotionally wrecked me. I’d sleep through my alarm in the morning and nobody was there to tell me I make weird faces in my sleep or that they’d promised they’d bring homemade treats to school that day. Friends, it was wild.
And the party didn’t end there. I’d make big dinner salads and bask, revel in being able to mix it all together, dressing too, not having to leave it on the side or create a whole salad bar of build-your-own bowl ingredients in case an unnamed picky child was going to reject the whole due to some of the parts. And in the most buried lede of all buried ledes, I need to tell you that this specific salad instantly became the star of our whole summer.
This salad could medal in the summer dinner salad Olympics, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s not even close. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be making it for the rest of my life, but I’m hoping you might start sooner, and even pull it off in a vacation house rental kitchen. It started in a more complex place; I’ve been making variations on what I call a Southwestern Cobb salad for years, a kinda taco bowl salad, with cute little rows of everything from tomatoes to black beans and peppers but every time I decide it was time to share it, I’d sigh and have to admit it was a bit of work.
Instead, I’ve distilled it to what I consider the best, most essential parts: chili-rubbed grilled chicken, charred sweet corn, avocado, and the best, most habit-forming, most put-it-on-everything, most I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-it cilantro lime dressing on earth. The whole thing is a symphony of greens and yellows (my favorite colors) and lest you think this feels a bit too wholesome and adult, I highly recommend a bowl of Fritos on the side and occasionally crumbled on top. A glass of something cold condensating on the table, your toes in the sand, and the general feeling that life is actually pretty grand right now isn’t guaranteed, but I want this for you, for us, and I hope this salad helps.
It’s here! The 2025 SK Classroom Wishlist Project, in which we try to get teachers what they need to set their classrooms up for success, has kicked off. If you cannot figure out where to start, let me help! I recommend picking a school in your area, or perhaps where you grew up, or searching the descriptions for classrooms that might focus on something particularly meaningful to you. Help out if you feel you’re able. There is no purchase too small to unquestionably make a teacher’s (and their students’) day. Plus, buying crayons, pencils, and books that help kids learn and succeed feels really good. [Project information. Direct link to spreadsheet.]
