By Spring break, March 2032. Elena drove up from Albuquerque for the week. She arrived Friday night with two bags and a box of sopapillas from a place she'd found near campus, and we sat at the kitchen table until midnight eating sopapillas with honey and talking. She is nineteen years old and she has opinions about everything — literature, climate policy, the etymology of New Mexican Spanish words her grandfather uses. I love it. I was coaching at nineteen. Ruben was already talking about enlisting. Elena is writing short stories and arguing with her professors and I think she's going to be something.
She slept until ten every morning which is her right as a college freshman on break. I made breakfast whenever she came downstairs — eggs scrambled with roasted green chile and cheese, flour tortillas, orange juice. It felt good to cook for someone other than just Lisa and myself. The house was a little alive again.
Spring practice starts Monday. The program is in good shape — we return eight starters on offense and six on defense. I'm cautiously optimistic, which in my experience is the only kind of optimism a football coach should allow himself before August. The moment you let yourself feel good about May is when August humbles you. I've been humbled enough times to know.
Elena asked me Friday night if I ever think about retiring. I said yes, I think about it. She asked when. I said not yet. She looked at me the way her grandmother used to look at Papá when he said he was fine — that knowing, patient, waiting look. She said she just wanted me to have time. I said I have time. I'm fifty-two years old and I feel strong. But I tucked her question away, the way you tuck away things that matter. I'll take it out and look at it again when I'm ready.
Those mornings with Elena reminded me how much I love cooking breakfast with real intention — not just fuel before film review, but something worth lingering over. The scrambled eggs and green chile I made her were simple, but this Mexicali Quiche With Avocado Crust is what I’d make when there’s time to do it right, when someone you love is sleeping in and you want the whole house to smell like something good when they finally come downstairs.
Mexicali Quiche With Avocado Crust
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 ripe avocados, peeled and pitted
- 1 cup almond flour
- 1/4 cup coconut flour
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 6 large eggs
- 1/2 cup whole milk
- 1/4 cup sour cream
- 1 cup shredded pepper jack cheese
- 1/2 cup roasted green chiles, diced
- 1/4 cup red bell pepper, diced
- 1/4 cup red onion, finely chopped
- 1/4 teaspoon cumin
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
- Salsa and sliced avocado, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 375°F and lightly grease a 9-inch pie dish.
- Make the avocado crust. In a bowl, mash the avocados until smooth. Add almond flour, coconut flour, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Mix until a soft dough forms. Press evenly into the bottom and up the sides of the pie dish. Par-bake for 10 minutes, then remove and set aside.
- Prepare the filling. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, sour cream, cumin, smoked paprika, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, and black pepper until smooth.
- Layer the quiche. Scatter the green chiles, red bell pepper, red onion, and half the pepper jack cheese over the par-baked crust. Pour the egg mixture over the top, then sprinkle with the remaining cheese.
- Bake. Place the quiche on the center rack and bake for 28 to 32 minutes, until the center is set and the top is lightly golden. A knife inserted near the center should come out clean.
- Rest and serve. Let the quiche cool for 10 minutes before slicing. Top with fresh cilantro and serve with salsa and sliced avocado.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 15g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 420mg