Pomegranate Cobb Salad

Mother's Day. Dave made me breakfast in bed, which means he brought me coffee and toast because that is the full extent of his breakfast capabilities, and the toast was slightly burnt, and the coffee was perfect, and the combination of the two is a summary of Dave himself — imperfect in small ways, perfect in the ways that count. The kids gave me cards. Tyler's said Happy Mother's Day, Love Tyler, which is efficient and correct. Justin's said Thanks for everything, which is three words and ten years of therapy and the most he has ever put on paper about what I mean to him, and I will keep it forever. Amber's was a poem she wrote, which I will not share because it is between her and me, but I will say that she used the word safe, and the word safe in Amber's handwriting broke me in the best possible way.

Josie's card had glitter. So much glitter. The card, the envelope, the kitchen table, my pajamas — all glitter. I will be finding glitter in July. Glitter is the herpes of craft supplies: once you have it, you never fully get rid of it. But the card said I LOVE YOU MOMMY YOU MAKE THE BEST FOOD, and the glitter was love made visible, and I accept it.

We went to Gayle's for lunch. I made her favorite — chicken salad sandwiches with grapes and pecans, on Gayle's white bread, the way she likes it. Gayle does not celebrate Mother's Day anymore, not really. She is a mother who has lost a child, and Mother's Day is a complicated holiday when one of your children is in the ground. But she ate the sandwich and she held Josie's glitter card up to the light and said that is beautiful, and she meant Josie, not the card, and the meaning was the gift.

I make food as a love language, and that day at Gayle’s I made the chicken salad sandwiches because they were hers — but this Pomegranate Cobb Salad is the one I come back to when I want something that looks as meaningful as it feels. It has that same spirit: the sweetness tucked in among the savory, the colors that make people stop before they take a bite, the kind of plate that says I thought about you when I made this. On a day when so much of the love was quiet and handwritten and glittered and complicated, this salad is how I carry it forward.

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

Ingredients

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and black pepper to taste
6 cups chopped romaine lettuce
4 strips bacon, cooked and crumbled
4 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and halved
1 large avocado, sliced
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 cup crumbled blue cheese (or feta)
3/4 cup pomegranate arils
1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
For the dressing: 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar, 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, 1 teaspoon honey, salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Season and cook the chicken. Brush chicken breasts with olive oil and season with garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Grill or cook in a skillet over medium-high heat for 6—7 minutes per side until cooked through. Let rest 5 minutes, then slice thin.
Make the dressing. Whisk together red wine vinegar, olive oil, Dijon mustard, honey, salt, and pepper in a small bowl until emulsified. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Arrange the base. Spread the chopped romaine across a large platter or divide among four bowls.
Add toppings in rows. Arrange the sliced chicken, crumbled bacon, halved eggs, avocado slices, cherry tomatoes, red onion, and blue cheese in distinct rows across the lettuce.
Finish with pomegranate. Scatter the pomegranate arils generously over the entire salad so each bite has a chance at that burst of sweet-tart juice.
Dress and serve. Drizzle the dressing over everything just before serving, or serve it on the side so everyone can dress their own.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pomegranate Cobb Salad — The Salad I Bring When Food Is How I Say I Love You