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Quinoa Salad -- The Simple, Cold Thing That Carries You Through

End of June and hot. The same drought pattern as last year building — the grass is short, the creek is lower than it should be in late June. I've been conservative with the grazing rotation, moving the cattle faster to preserve the grass. Dad watches from the porch and occasionally says something like "don't push the south pasture" and I say "I know" and I don't push the south pasture. We're having the same conversation Patrick had with his father thirty years ago. The land teaches you the same lessons in the same order every generation.

I drove to the boarding facility in Billings twice this week — one scheduled appointment and one emergency, a horse that had thrown a shoe at an inconvenient angle and needed attention before it caused a wall crack. I was there in ninety minutes. Karen said, "You always come when we call." I said, "That's the contract." She said, "Not every farrier sees it that way." I said, "Then they don't understand the contract."

I've been thinking about the July anniversary. One year since the barn. I don't want to make a big thing of it — it's not a celebration, it's an acknowledgment. July is coming. July has content.

I went to the Thursday meeting and Gary was there, which he isn't always — he goes to three meetings a week but not all of them on the same schedule. He sat next to me and after the meeting he said, "You're different from six months ago." I asked different how. He said, "You look at things when you talk to people. You used to look past them." I said I'd noticed that too. He said, "Good. That means it's real and not performance."

Mom made pasta salad Wednesday — cold pasta with canned tuna and peas and her homemade Italian dressing. A simple June thing that I ate three times over two days.

Mom’s pasta salad — cold, simple, eaten three times over two days — was exactly the kind of food that doesn’t ask anything of you, it just delivers. That’s what I keep coming back to this week: the things that show up reliably, without fuss. This quinoa salad is that same idea built into a recipe — something you can make once, keep in the fridge, and reach for after a long drive to Billings or a late evening checking the south pasture. It’s the kind of dish that earns its place on the table by just being there, ready, when you need it.

Quinoa Salad

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 cup dry quinoa, rinsed
  • 2 cups water or vegetable broth
  • 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
  • 1 English cucumber, diced
  • 1/2 red onion, finely diced
  • 1/2 cup kalamata olives, halved
  • 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
  • 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

  1. Cook the quinoa. Combine rinsed quinoa and water (or broth) in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 13–15 minutes until the liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, for 5 minutes, then fluff with a fork.
  2. Cool completely. Spread the cooked quinoa on a sheet pan or transfer to a large bowl and let it cool to room temperature, about 15 minutes. For faster prep, refrigerate for 10 minutes.
  3. Make the dressing. Whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, minced garlic, oregano, salt, and pepper in a small bowl until combined.
  4. Combine the salad. Add the cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, olives, feta, and parsley to the cooled quinoa. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently to combine.
  5. Taste and adjust. Season with additional salt, pepper, or lemon juice as needed. Serve immediately or refrigerate for up to 4 days — the flavors deepen overnight.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 10g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 420mg

Ryan Gallagher
About the cook who shared this
Ryan Gallagher
Week 118 of Ryan’s 30-year story · Billings, Montana
Ryan is a thirty-one-year-old Army veteran and ranch hand in Billings, Montana, who cooks over open fire because microwaves feel dishonest and because the quiet of a campfire is the only therapy that works for him consistently. He hunts his own elk, catches his own trout, and makes a camp stew that tastes like the mountains smell. He doesn't talk much. But his food says everything.

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