Artichoke and Potato Frittata

Hot sauce season. The peppers are in and I am processing them the way I process everything: with gloves, open windows, and the determination of a woman who has been making hot sauce for thirty years and has never once produced a batch that wasn't excellent. Excellence in hot sauce is not optional. It's a moral imperative.

This year's batch: twelve regular, six Pearl, four Three Generations, and something new — three jars of what I'm calling "Miss Cornelia's Blessing." Miss Cornelia on Sapelo Island passed this spring. Kayla told me — she'd been calling Miss Cornelia every few months, checking in, maintaining the connection. Miss Cornelia was ninety-one. She died in her house on Sapelo, the house where she'd lived her whole life, the house where she welcomed us and made okra soup and remembered Pearl.

I cried when Kayla told me. Not the way I cried for Earl or Michael — those were drowning cries. This was a smaller grief, a quieter one, the grief of losing a woman I met once on a porch who gave me something I'd been looking for my whole life: someone who remembered where I came from. Miss Cornelia remembered Pearl. Now Miss Cornelia is with Pearl. And the peppers she sent me — the seeds that became the Sapelo plants that grow in Earl's garden — those are her legacy in my hands. "Miss Cornelia's Blessing" — three jars, amber, made with the peppers she planted and the tradition she preserved and the memory she held long enough to hand it to me.

Made okra soup tonight. Pearl's recipe. Miss Cornelia's version. In memory of a ninety-one-year-old woman on an island who said, "I remember Pearl," and changed my life.

Now go on and feed somebody.

After a night of okra soup and a week of grief I can’t quite name, I didn’t want anything complicated on the stove the next morning — I wanted something that felt like an answer. A frittata is that kind of food: it uses what you have, it asks nothing unreasonable of you, and it feeds more people than you think it will. Miss Cornelia would have approved. She was not a woman who believed in wasting a good egg or a good morning.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

6 large eggs
1/4 cup whole milk
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, boiled until just tender and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1 can (14 oz) artichoke hearts, drained, patted dry, and quartered
1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese, divided
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 375°F. Position the rack in the center.
Whisk the eggs. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt, and pepper until smooth and slightly frothy. Stir in half the Parmesan. Set aside.
Sauté the aromatics. Heat the olive oil in a 10-inch oven-safe skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and lightly golden, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes if using, and cook 1 minute more.
Add the potatoes and artichokes. Arrange the potato slices in an even layer over the onion mixture. Scatter the artichoke hearts evenly on top. Let everything sit undisturbed for 2 minutes so the potatoes get a little color on the bottom.
Pour in the egg mixture. Pour the egg mixture evenly over the vegetables. Tilt the pan gently so the eggs settle into all the gaps. Cook over medium-low heat, without stirring, until the edges begin to set, about 4–5 minutes.
Finish in the oven. Sprinkle the remaining Parmesan over the top. Transfer the skillet to the oven and bake until the center is just set and the top is lightly golden, about 12–14 minutes. A toothpick inserted in the center should come out clean.
Rest and serve. Let the frittata rest in the pan for 5 minutes before slicing. Scatter the fresh parsley over the top. Serve warm, directly from the skillet, in generous wedges.

Nutrition (per serving)

Artichoke and Potato Frittata — Something Warm to Feed Somebody