Deviled Egg Pasta Salad

Week two of knowing. The secret is a living thing inside me — both literally and figuratively. I carry it through meetings and grocery runs and phone calls with Karen where I have to physically restrain myself from saying, "Mom, I'm pregnant, you're going to be a grandmother, I am going to give you a grandchild who has my face and James's jaw and you are going to hold this baby the way you held me at the airport thirty years ago." I do not say this. I talk about the weather. I ask about her medication. I tell her about a new recipe I'm developing. The restraint is agony. The restraint is necessary.

James is handling the secret better than I am, because James handles everything better than I do, which is both his gift and my occasionally mild resentment. He made me ginger tea on Tuesday morning when I was nauseated — the first nausea, mild, manageable, nothing like the dramatic morning sickness I had imagined. It came in a wave, passed in ten minutes, and left behind a slightly altered relationship with eggs, which I normally love and which now smell like a personal offense. James noticed. He stopped making eggs. He switched to congee for breakfast. He did not comment on the switch. He just switched. This is James: he adjusts the environment instead of commenting on the adjustment. He is going to be an extraordinary father.

I went to the OB/GYN on Wednesday — Dr. Hernandez at Swedish Medical Center. She confirmed the pregnancy. Six weeks. Due date: approximately March 2024. She was thorough, calm, professional. She asked about my medical history. I said, "I was adopted. I have limited information about my biological family's medical history." She nodded — she has heard this before. She said, "We'll do a comprehensive genetic screening at twelve weeks." I said, "My birth mother is alive. I can ask her about medical history." Dr. Hernandez looked up from her chart. She said, "That's wonderful. Yes, please do." I will ask Jisoo. I will ask her about her health, about her family's health, about the things that live in our shared blood. This is a conversation I never imagined having. It is a conversation I could not have had three years ago. The reunion with Jisoo is not just emotional healing — it is medical access. It is information that was severed when I was left at the adoption society and is now, because of one video call and three trips to Busan, available to me and to my child. The practical miracles of reunion.

Dr. Yoon on Monday: she asked how I am metabolizing the news. I said, "I am oscillating between joy and terror at approximately ninety-second intervals." She said, "That is normal." I said, "Am I going to feel this way for nine months?" She said, "You are going to feel this way for eighteen years." She was making another joke. Two jokes in two months. Dr. Yoon is on a roll.

Banchan Labs: Grace noticed something. On Thursday she looked at me and said, "You are different this week." I said, "I'm not different." She said, "You are glowing. Korean women glow when they are pregnant." I froze. Grace said, "I am not asking. I am observing." She went back to packing boxes. I stood in the SoDo kitchen wondering how a sixty-eight-year-old grandmother could detect a six-week pregnancy through glow alone. Korean grandmothers know things. This is not debatable.

The recipe this week is congee — the rice porridge James has been making me every morning, and which has become the comfort food of this new chapter. Rice, rinsed, cooked in a 1:7 ratio of rice to water (or chicken stock for richness). Simmer for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rice breaks down into a thick, silky porridge. Top with sliced scallions, a drizzle of sesame oil, a soft-boiled egg (if your relationship with eggs has been restored; mine has not), soy sauce, and crispy shallots. Eat slowly. Eat every morning. Eat for two, even though the other person is the size of a lentil and doesn't have preferences yet. Eat for the future.

I wrote in this post about my altered relationship with eggs — how they went from a beloved staple to something I could not be in the same room with — and I promised myself I would mark the day that relationship was restored. That day came on a quiet Sunday, about three weeks after the mornings described above, when James scrambled eggs and I did not leave the kitchen. To celebrate, I made this deviled egg pasta salad: everything I had been craving wrapped into one cold, creamy, deeply satisfying bowl. It felt like a small homecoming. It felt like my body was beginning to trust me again, or perhaps like I was beginning to trust it.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

12 oz elbow macaroni or small pasta shells
8 large eggs, hard-boiled and peeled
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons yellow mustard
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
3 stalks celery, finely diced
1/4 cup red onion, finely minced
3 tablespoons sweet pickle relish
Paprika, for garnish
2 tablespoons fresh chives or parsley, chopped

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Drain, rinse under cold water to stop cooking, and set aside to cool completely.
Prepare the eggs. Slice 6 of the hard-boiled eggs in half. Remove the yolks and place them in a large mixing bowl. Roughly chop the whites and set aside. Chop the remaining 2 whole eggs and set aside with the whites.
Make the dressing. Mash the egg yolks with a fork until smooth. Add mayonnaise, mustard, apple cider vinegar, sugar, garlic powder, and onion powder. Whisk together until creamy and well combined. Season generously with salt and black pepper.
Combine. Add the cooled pasta to the dressing and toss to coat. Fold in the chopped egg whites, celery, red onion, and pickle relish until everything is evenly distributed.
Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes (or up to 24 hours) to allow the flavors to meld. The pasta will absorb some dressing as it sits — stir in an extra spoonful of mayonnaise before serving if needed.
Garnish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl. Dust generously with paprika and scatter fresh chives or parsley over the top. Serve cold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Deviled Egg Pasta Salad — For the Morning I Finally Want Eggs Again