Grilled Chicken Cobb Salad

Martin Luther King Jr. Day. The breakfast at First African. Deacon Harris's speech, year thirty-one, still good. I sat in my pew and listened and thought about what Dr. King would think of this world now — the progress and the mess, the hope and the heartbreak, the fact that a Black woman in Savannah can run a school kitchen and consult for a district and have her voice heard, which is more than my mama had and less than my granddaughter will have, and that arc, that slow bending arc, is what Dr. King was talking about, even if it bends slower than we want.

I came home and cooked a pot of chicken bog, same as last MLK Day, same as always. The kitchen table was empty — no Kayla this time, she's at school — and I cooked alone, which I don't mind. I cook alone most days. The kitchen is my company. The stove is my conversation partner. The spices are my friends. That sounds lonely. It's not. Being alone in a kitchen is different from being alone in a room. In a kitchen, you are always with everyone you ever cooked for and everyone who ever cooked for you. Hattie Pearl is at my shoulder. Earl's mama is at the stove. My grandmother, whose name was Pearl too — Hattie Pearl was named for her — is somewhere in the steam, watching, approving.

Earl came into the kitchen while I was stirring and he stood behind me and put his hand on my back, the same way he does on Willie James's birthday, the same gesture that says "I'm here" without any words at all. I didn't turn around. I just leaned back, just slightly, and he was there. The warmth of him. The steady, reliable warmth. We stood like that for a minute — me stirring, him standing, neither of us talking — and it was the most married moment of the week. Marriage is not the big gestures. It's the hand on the back while the soup simmers. It's the minute where nothing needs to be said.

I also made cornbread — in Hattie Pearl's skillet, obviously — and brought a pan to Miss Corrine, who has been looking thinner and moving slower and who I worry about the way I worry about everyone in my orbit, which is to say constantly and mostly in the form of food. She said, "Dorothy, you don't have to keep bringing me food." I said, "Corrine, I don't have to do anything. I want to." She ate the cornbread. She asked for more. I brought more. That's the arrangement. That's the love.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I always say food is how I show up for people, and Miss Corrine reminded me of that again this week — sometimes the most important thing you can put on a table isn’t the dish you planned, it’s the one that tells someone they’re seen. When I’m not cooking chicken bog or pressing cornbread into Hattie Pearl’s skillet, this Grilled Chicken Cobb Salad is the kind of meal I reach for when I want something substantial enough to mean it — protein, color, good fat, the works. It’s the sort of plate you can set in front of someone who’s been looking thinner lately and know you’ve done right by them. Go on and feed somebody.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 large head romaine lettuce, chopped
4 strips bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
3 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and quartered
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 large avocado, diced
1/2 cup crumbled blue cheese (or feta)
1/4 cup red onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup corn kernels (fresh, canned, or thawed frozen)
Your favorite ranch or red wine vinaigrette dressing, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry with paper towels. Rub all over with olive oil, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper.
Grill the chicken. Heat a grill or grill pan over medium-high heat. Cook chicken 6–7 minutes per side, until internal temperature reaches 165°F and grill marks form. Transfer to a cutting board and let rest 5 minutes before slicing.
Prep the salad base. Arrange chopped romaine in a large, wide serving bowl or on a platter — you want enough room to lay everything out in rows.
Build your rows. Arrange the bacon, hard-boiled eggs, cherry tomatoes, avocado, blue cheese, red onion, and corn in distinct rows across the top of the romaine.
Add the chicken. Slice the grilled chicken on the bias and lay it down the center of the salad.
Dress and serve. Drizzle dressing over the salad just before serving, or pass it on the side. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Chicken Cobb Salad — For the Days You Cook for Someone Who Needs It