Southwest Chicken Cobb Salad -- When the Garden Gives You Tomatoes, You Build Something Worth Eating

The garden is producing. Not gently, not gradually — producing, in the aggressive way that a Duluth garden produces when the growing season is short and the plants know they have limited time. The lettuce came in first, then the cucumbers, and now the tomatoes are swelling on the vine like they're in a competition with each other. I picked the first tomatoes on Wednesday — Early Girls, because they ripen fastest this far north — and I stood in the garden holding them and they were warm from the sun and heavy in my hand and I thought: this is what July is for. This is why we endure January. Paul was reading on the porch when I came in with the basket. He looked up and said, "BLTs?" and I said, "Obviously," because there is no other acceptable use for the first tomato of the season. You do not make salad with the first tomato. You do not dice it into salsa. You slice it thick, put it on toasted bread with bacon and mayonnaise and a leaf of lettuce from the garden, and you eat it standing over the sink because the juice runs down your arm and you don't care. We ate our BLTs on the porch with Sven lying between our chairs and the evening light stretching long across the yard and I thought about Mamma's garden on Fifth Street, which is larger than mine and better organized and produces more per square foot because Ingrid Johansson has been gardening in Duluth since 1962 and the soil obeys her out of respect. I visited Mamma on Saturday. She was in the garden, on her knees, pulling weeds with the vigor of a woman half her age. She's eighty-five and she gets down on her knees in the dirt and back up again without help, which her doctor finds remarkable and which Mamma finds unremarkable because she doesn't understand what the alternative would be. "The weeds don't pull themselves, Linda." I helped her can pickled beets — her recipe, unchanged since 1965. Beets boiled, peeled, sliced, packed into jars with a brine of vinegar, sugar, cloves, and allspice. We did fourteen jars in three hours, standing side by side at her kitchen counter, the one with the crack that Pappa was going to fix and never did. The kitchen smelled like vinegar and beet juice and my hands were stained purple and Mamma said, "We need more jars" and I drove to the Fleet Farm and bought two cases and we kept going. This is Mamma's love language: work. She doesn't hug often or say "I love you" with ease, but she'll can beets with you for six hours and send you home with seven jars and that's the same thing. I know this because I'm the same way. I show love with food and labor and presence, not words, and anyone who needs me to say it out loud is going to be waiting a while, because my mouth was made for eating, not for speeches. The garden is growing. Mamma is well. The days are long. I am here.

After standing in the garden holding those warm Early Girls and eating BLTs over the sink with juice running down my arm, I wanted a way to keep that same energy going — the tomatoes still the star, the bacon still earning its place, but stretched into something that could anchor a proper dinner. This Southwest Chicken Cobb Salad does exactly that: it takes the same logic as a BLT — good tomatoes, bacon, something crisp and green — and builds it into a full meal. Mamma would say it’s too fancy for a weeknight. She’s probably right. I make it anyway.

Southwest Chicken Cobb Salad

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

Ingredients

• 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 6 cups romaine lettuce, chopped
• 2 large ripe tomatoes, diced (or 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved)
• 1 cup corn kernels (fresh, canned, or thawed frozen)
• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
• 4 strips bacon, cooked and crumbled
• 2 hard-boiled eggs, quartered
• 1 avocado, sliced
• 1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar or pepper jack cheese
• 1/4 cup red onion, thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped (optional)
• 1/2 cup ranch dressing or southwest-style dressing
• Lime wedges for serving

Instructions

1. Season the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry and rub all over with chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper.
2. Cook the chicken. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Cook chicken 6—7 minutes per side until cooked through and internal temperature reaches 165°F. Let rest 5 minutes, then slice or dice.
3. Build the salad base. Spread chopped romaine across a large platter or divide among four individual bowls.
4. Arrange the toppings. Arrange the chicken, tomatoes, corn, black beans, crumbled bacon, hard-boiled eggs, avocado, cheese, and red onion in rows or sections over the lettuce.
5. Finish and dress. Scatter cilantro over the top if using. Drizzle with dressing just before serving, or pass it on the side. Serve with lime wedges for squeezing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 485 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 620mg