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Chicken Quinoa Burrito Bowls — The Soup Is Monday, but the Family Is Always

Spring 2023. The wedding is one year away. April 20, 2024. Andrea's binder is now three binders. The dress is chosen (white, simple, the kind of dress that a dental hygienist student who waited nine months for a soldier can afford and that a soldier's mother can cry over). The venue is set (St. Patrick's). The reception is at the bakery — the bakery! — because Luis Jr. said: "The bakery is where I grew up. The bakery is where I brought Andrea for the first time. The bakery is where Mom makes the food that makes everything important. The reception should be there." And I said yes, because the yes was inevitable, because the bakery is the only venue that matters, because the bakery is the church of food and the reception is the communion.

Sofia is planning the reception as a catering event — not as a mother-of-the-groom event but as a Sofia event, which means: spreadsheets, timelines, menu options, seating charts, revenue projections (she will not charge her brother, but she calculated what the event would cost commercially "for comparative purposes," and the comparative purpose is Sofia learning the value of a hundred-person catering event, which is eighteen hundred dollars, and the knowledge is the education). The menu: tamales (Rosa's), enchiladas (mine), tres leches wedding cake (four tiers, Sofia decorating), carne asada (Luis at the grill), conchas (for the table centerpieces — yes, conchas as centerpieces, because the Gutierrez wedding has bread on every table the way other weddings have flowers), and champurrado (because the reception is in April and April evenings in El Paso are cool enough for warm chocolate).

Diego offered to build the reception tables. Not metaphorically — literally. He wants to design and build wooden tables for the bakery parking lot (the reception will be partly indoor, partly outdoor). He has designed a folding table system that can be stored in the bakery when not in use and deployed for events. He drew the plans. He calculated the materials. He estimated the cost: two hundred and forty dollars for eight tables. He is fourteen and he is building furniture for his brother's wedding from lumber and hinges and the absolute certainty that anything can be built if you have the measurements right.

I made sopa de tortilla for the bakery lunch — the Monday soup, the constant, the one that has been on the rotation for four years now and that the regulars order without looking at the menu because the menu is unnecessary when the soup is Monday and Monday is always tortilla soup. The constant. The Monday. The tortilla soup. The things that don't change while everything else changes: weddings, universities, bakery phases, Anapra dreams. The tortilla soup stays.

The tortilla soup is Monday and Monday never changes — but the rest of the week has to feed a family that is also planning a wedding, building tables, and calculating the commercial value of a hundred-person catering event. On the days when the binders come out and the spreadsheets multiply, I need something that comes together fast and still feels like it belongs on a Gutierrez table: bright, layered, a little bit of everything. These chicken quinoa burrito bowls are the weekday answer to the Monday constant — the same flavors Andrea and Luis Jr. grew up eating, just assembled differently, the way a wedding is really just a family meal assembled with more flowers and four-tier cake.

Chicken Quinoa Burrito Bowls

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 cup dry quinoa, rinsed
  • 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 cup corn kernels (fresh, frozen, or canned)
  • 1 cup pico de gallo or chunky salsa
  • 1 avocado, sliced
  • 1/2 cup shredded Monterey Jack or cheddar cheese
  • 1/4 cup sour cream or plain Greek yogurt
  • Lime wedges and fresh cilantro, for serving

Instructions

  1. Cook the quinoa. Combine quinoa and chicken broth in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook 15 minutes until liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork.
  2. Season the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry. In a small bowl, mix chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Rub the spice mixture evenly over both sides of the chicken.
  3. Cook the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 6–7 minutes per side, until cooked through and internal temperature reaches 165°F. Transfer to a cutting board, rest 5 minutes, then slice or shred.
  4. Warm the beans and corn. In the same skillet over medium heat, add the drained black beans and corn. Stir to combine and heat through, about 3 minutes. Season lightly with salt if needed.
  5. Assemble the bowls. Divide the cooked quinoa evenly among four bowls. Top each with the sliced chicken, black beans and corn, pico de gallo, avocado slices, and shredded cheese.
  6. Finish and serve. Add a dollop of sour cream or Greek yogurt to each bowl. Squeeze fresh lime over the top and garnish with cilantro. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 10g | Sodium: 610mg

Maria Elena Gutierrez
About the cook who shared this
Maria Elena Gutierrez
Week 276 of Maria Elena’s 30-year story · El Paso, Texas
Maria Elena was born in Ciudad Juárez, crossed the border at twenty with nothing but her mother's recipes in her head, and built a life in El Paso one tortilla at a time. She owns Panadería Rosa, a tiny bakery named after the mother who taught her that cooking is prayer and waste is sin. She has five children, a husband who chose the family over the beer, and a stack of handwritten recipes that she guards like sacred text — because they are.

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