It was a busy day at the Riviera Ridge School. I’d just taught my two morning blocks of 6th- and 7th-grade English, rushed to recess duty, and barely remembered to finish my coffee, let alone find a snack. I stumbled into the teachers’ lounge, hoping to possibly grab a leftover doughnut from a kid’s birthday, but instead, I feasted my eyes on a platter of Rice Krispies Treats. Eyeing the mysterious black specks dotting the perfectly cut, large squares of goodness, I thought to myself, “Is that vanilla bean? Coffee grounds? Pepper?” I knew these would not be your average back-of-the-box marshmallow and cereal recipe. With one bite of the tender and gooey block of heaven, laced with traces of vanilla and brown butter, hitting all those nostalgic cravings yet offering a sophisticated caramelization, my colleague and I locked eyes. Where did these come from? Word spread like wildfire through our halls. These were from Chef Mark Gonzales, who wanted to express his gratitude for teaching his daughter Sofia and excitement for daughter Ava to join us in the fall.
For the rest of the year, the teachers’ lounge surprises only amplified. Charcuterie platters overflowing with a cornucopia of gourmet cheeses, paired with Marcona almonds, olives, and homemade hummus. Our copy room soon turned into a VIP lounge. I’ll never forget coming back from chaperoning our week-long trip in Northern California with Ava’s 7th-grade class. When I got back, Gonzales had made all of the teacher chaperones three-course meals, with wine and enough servings for the whole family so we wouldn’t have to worry about cooking and could recover from the trip.
As teachers, we’re used to people throwing leftovers of all kinds on that copy room table, and we’ll likely eat it. However, this was different. Instead of stale doughnuts or cold pizza, we had fresh farro salads drizzled with goat cheese, heirloom tomatoes, arugula, and pistachios; parmesan chicken cutlets; and chocolate pavlova crowned with homemade whipped cream, raspberries, and shaved chocolate. We felt like kings and queens, our bellies sated, the question of “What’s for lunch?” conveniently taken care of; but most clearly, we felt taken care of. These offerings were nourishing and aesthetically pleasing, and they reflected a thoughtfulness that only the husband of a teacher could provide.