Colorful Pepper Frittata

December. Diego's last month at home. I've been making his favorite meals — not obviously, not as an announcement, just quietly rotating through the dishes he loves: the green chile stew, the enchiladas with the fried egg, the posole, the carne asada. He hasn't commented on it. He knows. We have become, over the last few years, two people who know the same things without saying them. This is both a product of time and a product of the fact that he is my son and we are more alike than either of us talks about.

Christmas in Las Cruces. We went. Hector was diminished further than at the championship game — the trip to Denver had taken something from him that hadn't come back. He was in his chair nearly all of Christmas Eve. But when we sat down to the tamales he was present in a way that transcended the body — his voice, his attention, his joy at the grandchildren, his specific pride in Diego that he couldn't contain and didn't try to. He held Diego's face in his hands at some point on Christmas morning and said something I couldn't hear from across the room. Diego nodded. Whatever it was, it landed where it was meant to land.

I spent an extra two days in Las Cruces after Lisa and the kids drove home. Just me and my parents. I cooked for them — simple food, Mom's favorites, easy things. I sat on the back porch with Hector in the December sun and we didn't talk much. The Organ Mountains were clear on the day I left. He walked me to the car. He got to the car. He stood there until I pulled out of the driveway. I looked in the rearview mirror and he was still standing. I drove until I couldn't see him anymore and then I pulled over and sat for a while before continuing home.

Those two extra days I stayed in Las Cruces after Lisa and the kids left, I kept it simple in the kitchen — nothing that required much of me or much of them. A frittata was the kind of thing I could pull together from whatever was in Mom’s refrigerator, something with color and warmth that didn’t make a fuss of itself, which felt right for mornings where nobody needed more weight to carry. It’s the same instinct I’d had back home with Diego: feed the people you love quietly, without ceremony, and let the food do what words can’t.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

8 large eggs
1/4 cup whole milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 yellow bell pepper, diced
1 orange bell pepper, diced
1/2 medium yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 cup shredded pepper jack or sharp cheddar cheese
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley or chives, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 375°F (190°C) and position a rack in the center.
Whisk the eggs. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika until smooth and slightly frothy. Set aside.
Sauté the vegetables. Heat the olive oil in a 10-inch oven-safe skillet over medium heat. Add the diced onion and all three bell peppers. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and beginning to caramelize, about 6–8 minutes.
Add the garlic. Stir in the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute more, until fragrant. Spread the vegetables in an even layer across the bottom of the skillet.
Pour in the eggs. Pour the egg mixture evenly over the vegetables. Scatter the shredded cheese across the top. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook undisturbed until the edges are just set, about 3–4 minutes.
Bake until set. Transfer the skillet to the preheated oven and bake for 12–15 minutes, until the center is fully set and the top is lightly golden. A toothpick or knife inserted in the center should come out clean.
Rest and serve. Let the frittata cool in the pan for 5 minutes before slicing into wedges. Garnish with fresh parsley or chives and serve warm, directly from the skillet.

Nutrition (per serving)

Colorful Pepper Frittata — The Simple Meals We Make When Words Run Out