Egg Salad Burritos

Both kids in school. The house is empty from 8 AM to 3 PM. Hank and I rattle around in the silence, him sleeping, me — for the first time in seven years — having unstructured time that isn't filled with a child's needs. I go to work. I come home to a quiet house. I water the garden. I read. I run. I exist as a person, not just a mother, and the existential adjustment is harder than I expected.

I cleaned out the playroom this week. Packed away the toddler toys — the shape sorters, the stacking blocks, the board books with chewed corners. Put them in boxes in the garage, labeled "SAVE." I don't know what I'm saving them for. Lily is five and Mason is seven and there will be no more babies in this house, and these toys are relics of an era that ended when Lily walked into kindergarten. But I can't throw them away. Not yet. Not while the memory of small hands holding them is still warm.

At the clinic, I'm mentoring the new techs and finding that I love it. Teaching is feeding — you give knowledge the way you give food, and the person who receives it is changed, and the change matters. One of the new techs, a woman named Elena, asked me how I handle the hard cases — the ones that don't survive. I told her what I've learned: you hold the grief, you put it down, you keep going. You don't let it live in you. You visit it, like a room you pass through, and then you walk out and close the door. She said, "How do you learn to do that?" I said, "You don't learn. You practice." It's the same thing, but the distinction matters.

Jen and I had coffee this week — a Wednesday morning, both kids at school, sitting at a café like adults who have leisure time. We talked about dating. She's been on Bumble. She described three dates, each worse than the last, and we laughed until I snorted, which is undignified and perfect. She said, "You should try it." I said, "I'm not ready." She said, "How will you know when you're ready?" I said, "I'll know," and I will. But not yet. Not while I'm still putting myself back together. You don't invite someone into a house that's still under construction.

New recipe #23: shakshuka eggs, round two. I made it again because the first time was good and the second time was better — more spice, softer eggs, thick crusty bread for soaking up the sauce. I ate it for a solo lunch on a quiet Wednesday, in a quiet house, at a quiet table, and the sauce was warm and spicy and the egg yolk broke golden over the bread and the kitchen was mine and the silence was mine and the food was mine and the day stretched out ahead of me like a road with no destination, just the driving, just the going, just the being.

That Wednesday feeling—the house quiet, the morning stretching open, a meal that belongs entirely to me—is exactly what I wanted to honor with something simple and good. Shakshuka had been on my mind, eggs as comfort, eggs as ritual, and when I needed a recipe that was easy enough to make for one without the whole production of it, these egg salad burritos felt like the right answer: warm, satisfying, a little indulgent, and completely, quietly mine.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

6 large eggs
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon yellow mustard
2 tablespoons celery, finely chopped
2 tablespoons green onions, thinly sliced
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and black pepper to taste
4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
1 cup shredded romaine lettuce
1 medium tomato, diced
1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Instructions

Hard-boil the eggs. Place eggs in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water by one inch. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then remove from heat, cover, and let sit for 10 minutes. Transfer eggs to an ice bath and let cool for 5 minutes before peeling.
Make the egg salad. Chop the peeled eggs into rough pieces and transfer to a medium bowl. Add mayonnaise, mustard, celery, green onions, garlic powder, and smoked paprika. Stir gently to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Warm the tortillas. Heat each tortilla in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 30 seconds per side, until pliable and lightly spotted. Alternatively, wrap in a damp paper towel and microwave for 20 seconds.
Assemble the burritos. Lay a warm tortilla flat. Spoon a generous 1/4 of the egg salad down the center, leaving a two-inch border on each side. Top with shredded lettuce, diced tomato, and a pinch of cheddar.
Fold and serve. Fold in the sides of the tortilla, then roll up from the bottom into a tight burrito. Slice in half on a diagonal if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Egg Salad Burritos — A Solo Lunch Worth Sitting Down For