May 2025. School year ends. Sofia finishes sophomore year with a 4.2 weighted GPA and a national junior championship silver medal. She came home from the national meet with the medal in a box she didn't open for two days. When she opened it at the kitchen table, she looked at it for a while and then said, "I need to be faster." Yes. That's the runner. That's always the runner. The medal is yesterday's news. Tomorrow's pace is the point.
Diego called on Tuesday and told me about his spring camp. He's competing for a starting role as an incoming freshman. The coaches have confirmed what I told him they'd see: he reads the field. He makes the right cut before the hole opens. He passes blocks at a college level because he spent three years learning to do it at a standard most high school programs don't require. He said, "The coaches seem surprised I know the playbook already." I told him he'd been studying it since January. He said, "I started in December." I said I knew. He said, "Is that weird?" I said it was exactly right. He laughed. The laugh I've been hearing since he was a baby. A little deeper now. Still his.
The twins are finishing fifth grade. Marco reads at a ninth-grade level. Elena's poems have been published in a children's literary journal — a real one, with an editorial staff that reviews submissions. She mentioned this at dinner with the casual tone of someone reporting traffic. Lisa and I exchanged a look across the table. These two. This household. Every week I find a new reason to be grateful I was present for it.
Chile verde Sunday. The summer version, lighter but still deep. Tomatillos from the farmers market, which opened this week for the season. First tomatillos of summer. That's the clock that matters.
That chile verde Sunday feeling — lighter than winter, but still with real depth — called for something on the table before the main pot was even finished. The farmers market opened this week, the tomatillos are back, and the whole house smelled like summer was finally keeping its promise. I made this peachy jalapéno guacamole as a first bite while everything else came together: the peach brings that early-season brightness, the jalapeño keeps it honest, and the whole thing disappears fast when four kids and a full kitchen are involved.
Peachy Jalapeño Guacamole
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 3 ripe avocados, halved and pitted
- 1 medium ripe peach, peeled and finely diced
- 1 jalapeño, seeded and minced (leave seeds in for more heat)
- 1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
- 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
- 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 large lime)
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 small clove garlic, minced
Instructions
- Prep the avocado. Scoop avocado flesh into a medium bowl. Use a fork to mash to your preferred texture — leave it slightly chunky for the best result.
- Add acid first. Stir in the lime juice immediately to help preserve the color and brighten the flavor throughout.
- Fold in the peach and jalapeño. Add the diced peach, minced jalapeño, and garlic. Fold gently so the peach pieces stay intact and don’t get fully mashed.
- Season. Add the red onion, cilantro, cumin, and salt. Stir to combine. Taste and adjust salt and lime juice as needed.
- Rest briefly. Let the guacamole sit for 5 minutes before serving so the flavors have time to come together.
- Serve. Transfer to a bowl and serve immediately with tortilla chips, alongside grilled meats, or as a topping for tacos. Press plastic wrap directly onto the surface if storing to minimize browning.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 165 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 165mg