By October 2035. Halfway through the regular season. We're five and zero. The defense has given up fewer than fourteen points per game. Caleb Park threw for 287 yards last Friday and ran for 64 more. The program is in a good place, which is what I say when I mean: we've built something that sustains itself past any individual player or coach, and I can feel that sustainability in how the younger players respond to the older ones, in how the veterans lead without being asked to lead, in how the staff anticipates what needs doing before I name it.
Marco came to watch the game on Friday. He drives up from his school sometimes when we're playing at home — it's an hour and twenty minutes for him. He sat in the visitors' coach section because that's where I put him, and he watched the whole game with that intense stillness that means he's studying, breaking it down, filing it. Afterward we went to dinner and he talked about his own program with an energy that reminded me of myself at thirty. He's learning the things that can only be learned by doing them badly first and then doing them again. I told him that. He said: thanks, Dad. Very helpful. I said: you're welcome.
Elena was in Denver for a reading at Tattered Cover. Her second book is doing well enough that she's getting readings at real venues now, and she came a day early and stayed with us Thursday night. She made the salad, which in our family means she stands in the kitchen and supervises while I cook and occasionally adds things to the salad that I pretend not to notice. She asked about the season. I told her about Caleb Park. She said: so another one you're going to miss when he's gone. I said: yes, always.
That Thursday night with Elena, the salad she “made” was this one —big, crunchy, and substantial enough to actually stand alongside whatever else was on the table. She added something at the end that I pretended not to notice, which I think was extra lemon. It’s the kind of salad that doesn’t apologize for itself, which felt right for the company we were in: a season going well, a daughter whose second book is landing at real venues, a night where nobody needed to perform anything for anybody else.
Mega Crunchy Romaine Salad with Quinoa
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 cup dry quinoa, rinsed
- 2 cups water or vegetable broth
- 2 large romaine hearts, chopped
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1 English cucumber, diced
- 1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup shredded carrots
- 1/3 cup roasted sunflower seeds
- 1/3 cup roasted chickpeas (store-bought or homemade)
- 1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese (optional)
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Cook the quinoa. Combine quinoa and water (or broth) in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 13–15 minutes until liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat, fluff with a fork, and spread on a baking sheet to cool completely.
- Make the dressing. Whisk together olive oil, lemon juice, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, and minced garlic in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
- Prep the vegetables. Chop the romaine into bite-sized pieces and place in a large salad bowl. Add cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, and shredded carrots.
- Add the quinoa. Once the quinoa is fully cooled, add it to the bowl with the vegetables. Toss gently to distribute.
- Add the crunch. Top with roasted sunflower seeds and roasted chickpeas. Add crumbled feta if using.
- Dress and serve. Pour dressing over the salad and toss to coat evenly. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve immediately to preserve maximum crunch.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 380 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 290mg