Asparagus and Ham Strata

Jim and Diane visited for the long weekend — not Thanksgiving, not Christmas, just a visit. Jim is seventy and Diane is sixty-seven and they flew to Phoenix in January because Jim said, "I want to eat at Rivera's without it being a holiday." The desire to eat at a restaurant on an ordinary day is the highest compliment a restaurant can receive. Jim wants Rivera's on a Tuesday. Jim wants brisket without the context of Thanksgiving. Jim wants the ordinary meal that is extraordinary because the food is good and the fire is right and the counter has Roberto and the table has mesquite and the menu has the words Just Show Up.

Jim and Diane ate at Rivera's on Tuesday. Gerald was at the counter. Roberto was at the counter. Jim sat between them and the three men — the Duluth grandfather, the Phoenix regular, and the Mesa founder — ate brisket plates in comfortable silence and read sections of the newspaper (Jim took sports, Gerald took local, Roberto took front page, the newspaper distribution of men who have figured out how to share without negotiating). Diane sat at the community table and ate the green chile stew and said, "This is the best soup I have ever eaten," which from a woman from Duluth (where soup is a religion and a lifestyle) is a statement of seismic significance.

After dinner, Jim pulled me aside. The second Jim-aside of our relationship (the first was Thanksgiving 2023, the tamales-and-mashed-potatoes speech). He said, "Marcus, I want to ask you something." I said, "Anything, Jim." He said, "How is Roberto? Really." I said, "He is — managing." Jim said, "I can see that he is smaller. I can see that he eats less. I can see that Elena watches him with the eyes of a woman who is afraid." Jim sees. Jim, from Duluth, who met Roberto fifteen years ago and who has been eating carne asada at his table every Thanksgiving since — Jim sees what I see. The shrinking. The withdrawal. The slow, quiet diminishment of a man who is sixty-nine and whose body is losing battles it did not start.

I said, "His kidneys are holding. His diabetes is managed. He is tired." Jim said, "He is more than tired." I said, "I know." Jim put his hand on my shoulder — the Jim gesture, firm and brief and full of feeling hidden beneath Minnesota restraint — and he said, "Take care of him, son." He called me son. Jim, my father-in-law, the retired principal from Duluth, called me son. The word landed in a place that I did not know was waiting for it. Son. I am forty-one and I am Roberto's son and I am Jim's son and I am the son of two men who love me in two different languages — fire and silence — and both languages mean the same thing: take care.

After Jim and Diane flew home, I kept thinking about what Diane said — that the green chile stew was the best soup she’d ever eaten, this woman from Duluth where soup is a serious matter — and I realized what she was really saying was that she felt taken care of. That is what food does when it is made right. This asparagus and ham strata is what I make the morning after people I love arrive: layered the night before, slid into the oven while the coffee brews, ready before anyone has to ask. It is the kind of meal that says, without ceremony, that you showed up and I was ready for you.

Prep Time: 20 minutes + overnight chill | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes (plus chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 loaf (about 12 oz) day-old French or sourdough bread, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 8 cups)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 lb fresh asparagus, woody ends trimmed, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 cups diced cooked ham (about 10 oz)
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
8 large eggs
2 1/2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1 1/2 cups shredded Gruyère cheese, divided
1/2 cup shredded sharp white cheddar
2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives, for serving

Instructions

Prepare the pan. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with butter or cooking spray. Spread the bread cubes in an even layer in the dish and set aside.
Sauté the vegetables. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and asparagus pieces and cook 3 to 4 minutes more, until the asparagus is bright green and just beginning to soften. Remove from heat.
Layer the filling. Scatter the diced ham, the asparagus and onion mixture, and 1 cup of the Gruyère evenly over the bread cubes, tucking pieces down between the bread so the layers are well distributed.
Whisk the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, heavy cream, Dijon mustard, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes until fully combined. Pour the egg mixture slowly and evenly over the bread and filling. Press down gently with a spatula so all the bread begins to absorb the custard.
Top and chill. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup Gruyère and all of the white cheddar over the top. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight. This step is important — it allows the bread to fully soak up the custard.
Bake. Remove the strata from the refrigerator 30 minutes before baking. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Uncover the dish and drizzle the remaining tablespoon of olive oil over the top. Bake uncovered for 50 to 55 minutes, until the top is deep golden brown, the edges are set, and the center no longer jiggles when you gently shake the pan.
Rest and serve. Let the strata rest for 10 minutes before cutting. Scatter fresh chives over the top and serve warm, directly from the baking dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Asparagus and Ham Strata — The Meal That Just Shows Up