Spanish Rice with Bacon

State Championship. Seven. 24-10. The program has won seven state championships in twelve seasons. I say this without fanfare because the fanfare belongs to the players who earned each one, not to me. What belongs to me is the system and the culture and the decisions about people and priorities that produced the conditions where seven championships were possible. That's the coaching. The rest is execution by the players.

Hector wasn't there. He wasn't well enough to travel. I called him from the field after the final whistle — the same call I've made seven times now, always with the score, always with him on the other end. He answered immediately. He said, "Seven." I said yes. He said, "They're going to write about you." I said I wasn't interested in being written about. He said, "I know. That's why they will." He was quiet for a moment. He said, "I'm proud of my son." Just that. Past tense adjacent — not past tense, but with the gravity of something that is completed even while it continues. I told him I loved him. He said, "I know, mijo. I always know."

Championship posole. Seven batches. Seven mornings when I put the broth on the night before. Seven nights when the house smelled like the right things. I don't know how many more there will be. I make each one the same way: with care, with the dried chiles I source from Albuquerque, with the hominy bloomed from scratch, with the pork that takes all day. Every championship, same recipe. The recipe is the constant. The championships are the proof.

Posole takes all day, and not every table has all day — but the flavors I reach for after a win are always the same ones my father’s kitchen smelled like: pork, warm spice, something slow and smoky that says this moment matters. Spanish rice with bacon carries that same weight in a fraction of the time, and on the nights when I need to feel the connection between what happened on that field and what’s on the table in front of me, this is what I make. Seven championships. Same instinct every time — reach for the pan, reach for the bacon, let the smell do the rest.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

6 strips thick-cut bacon, chopped
1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon chili powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped (for garnish)

Instructions

Cook the bacon. In a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat, cook the chopped bacon until crispy, about 6–8 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving about 2 tablespoons of drippings in the pan.
Toast the rice. Add the rice to the pan with the bacon drippings. Stir frequently over medium heat for 3–4 minutes until the grains are golden and fragrant. This step builds the base flavor.
Sauté the aromatics. Add the diced onion to the toasted rice and cook for 3 minutes until softened. Stir in the garlic and cook for 1 minute more until fragrant.
Season and add liquids. Stir in the smoked paprika, cumin, oregano, chili powder, salt, and pepper. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices and the chicken broth. Stir to combine and bring to a boil.
Simmer covered. Reduce heat to low, cover tightly, and cook for 18–20 minutes until the rice has absorbed the liquid and is fully tender. Do not lift the lid during cooking.
Rest and fluff. Remove from heat and let the rice rest, still covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork, then fold in the reserved crispy bacon.
Garnish and serve. Transfer to a serving dish and top with fresh cilantro. Serve immediately as a main or alongside grilled meats.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spanish Rice with Bacon — Seven Championships, One Recipe That Never Changes