By I turned fifty years old on Christmas Day and I will tell you about it the way it happened, plainly and truly, which is the only way I know how to tell things. I woke at five in the morning, the way I always wake at five in the morning, and I lay in the dark and I was fifty years old and alive and in the Forestdale house and Calvin was breathing beside me. I got up and went to the kitchen and I turned on the light over the stove and I stood there for a moment in the early Christmas morning, alone in the kitchen, fifty years old, and I said out loud: thank you. To Bernice, who labored for me. To Willie James, who waited. To Marcus, who taught me what the kitchen is for. To the kitchen itself, which has held me through everything and which will hold me through everything that comes.
Then I made mac and cheese. Of course I made mac and cheese. What else would I make at five in the morning on my fiftieth birthday? The roux, the milk, the three cheeses, the oven. The house filling up with the smell of it. Calvin came in at seven and said, "Loretta, it's not even eight o'clock," and I said, "It's my birthday," and he laughed, and it was Christmas morning.
The day was full: CJ and Destiny home, Travis there (his first Christmas with us, and he was quiet and gracious and brought a pie from his grandmother's recipe—sweet potato, which is the right pie—and I asked him for the recipe and he said he didn't have one, it was in his hands, and I said, "Well, Travis, come stand next to me and we'll figure it out together"). Calvin preached the Christmas sermon and it was about incarnation—God made flesh, the word made specific—and I sat in the front pew and thought about all the ways love makes itself specific: in a baby, in a casserole, in mac and cheese at five in the morning on a birthday. Fifty years. More cheese, Mama.
The mac and cheese I made that morning was mine in the deepest way — a recipe I’ve adjusted and memorized and made so many times I don’t measure anymore. But after that Christmas, after CJ and Destiny and Travis and Calvin all filled the house up, I kept thinking about what it means to feed people before they’re even awake, to have something warm and cheesy and generous waiting. This hashbrown casserole lives in that same spirit: it’s the kind of dish you assemble in the quiet and slide into the oven, and by the time the house stirs, it’s already done its work.
Cheesy Breakfast Hashbrown Casserole
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min | Servings: 10
Ingredients
- 1 bag (30 oz) frozen shredded hashbrowns, thawed
- 2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
- 1 cup shredded Colby-Jack cheese
- 1 cup sour cream
- 1 can (10.5 oz) condensed cream of chicken soup
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
- 1/2 cup diced yellow onion
- 1/2 cup diced green bell pepper
- 4 large eggs, lightly beaten
- 1/2 cup whole milk
- 1 tsp garlic powder
- 1 tsp onion powder
- 3/4 tsp kosher salt
- 1/2 tsp black pepper
- 1/4 tsp smoked paprika
Instructions
- Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with butter or nonstick spray.
- Mix the base. In a large bowl, combine the thawed hashbrowns, sour cream, condensed soup, melted butter, diced onion, and diced bell pepper. Stir until evenly combined.
- Add eggs and cheese. Whisk together the eggs and milk, then pour into the hashbrown mixture. Add 1 1/2 cups of the cheddar and all of the Colby-Jack. Season with garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Stir well.
- Fill the dish. Spread the mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish, pressing it into a uniform layer.
- Top with cheese. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup of shredded cheddar evenly over the top.
- Bake. Bake uncovered for 50–55 minutes, until the edges are golden, the center is set, and the cheese on top is bubbling and lightly browned.
- Rest and serve. Let the casserole rest for 5 minutes before cutting. Serve warm, straight from the dish.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 21g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 510mg