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Egg Wraps — Fast, Hot, and Eaten Alone on Purpose

May. The tensions with Brian erupted this week — not the parking lot argument (that is next month, or soon, the timeline is approaching), but a smaller eruption, a preliminary tremor. Brian was late for the custody handoff. An hour late. No text, no call, just — late. Miya and I waited at the designated spot (the school parking lot, always the school parking lot, the neutral territory) and the waiting was the frustration and the frustration was the history and the history was every time Brian was late for everything, during the marriage and after it, the lateness a character trait I divorced and cannot un-divorce because we share a child and the child requires punctuality and the punctuality requires Brian to be on time and Brian is not on time and the not-on-time is the not-changed, the thing the divorce did not fix, the residue of the marriage that persists in the co-parenting like miso residue in a bowl: invisible but present, flavoring everything.

When he arrived — one hour late, apologies tumbling out, Lisa's car broke down, the traffic, the reasons — I said, "This is not okay, Brian." The sentence was mild. The feeling was not mild. The feeling was the geological layer breaking through. He said, "I know, I'm sorry." The sorry was genuine. The genuine did not reduce the frustration. The frustration is not about one hour. The frustration is about a pattern, and patterns are not solved by apologies, patterns are solved by change, and change is the thing I had to do (I changed my entire life) and the thing Brian struggles with (he changes in installments, small payments on a large debt, never quite caught up).

I went home and made gyudon — fast, hot, comforting — and ate it at the table while Miya ate at Brian's, and the eating-alone was both freedom and fury, the freedom of a woman who does not need a man at her table and the fury of a woman whose daughter was made to wait in a parking lot by a man who cannot be on time. Both. Always both. The both-ness is the condition.

Gyudon would have been ideal — it was what I had in my head driving home, that specific fast-and-hot comfort — but my pantry had other plans, and sometimes you meet the ingredients you have instead of the ingredients you want. Egg wraps are the same energy: minimal effort, ready in minutes, requiring nothing from anyone. That night, making something fast and warm just for myself felt like a full sentence, not a fragment, and these delivered exactly that.

Egg Wraps

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

  • 4 large eggs
  • 2 tablespoons milk
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 2 large flour tortillas (8-inch)
  • 1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
  • 2 tablespoons salsa
  • 2 tablespoons sour cream
  • 1/4 cup baby spinach or shredded lettuce

Instructions

  1. Whisk eggs. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt, and pepper until fully combined and slightly frothy.
  2. Cook eggs. Melt butter in a non-stick skillet over medium heat. Pour in the egg mixture and cook, stirring gently with a spatula, until eggs are just set but still soft, about 2—3 minutes. Remove from heat.
  3. Warm tortillas. Warm the flour tortillas in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 30 seconds per side, or wrap in a damp paper towel and microwave for 20 seconds.
  4. Assemble wraps. Divide the scrambled eggs evenly between the two tortillas. Top each with shredded cheddar, a spoonful of salsa, a dollop of sour cream, and a small handful of spinach or lettuce.
  5. Wrap and serve. Fold in the sides of each tortilla, then roll up from the bottom to close. Slice in half on the diagonal if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 380 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 620mg

Jen Nakamura
About the cook who shared this
Jen Nakamura
Week 403 of Jen’s 30-year story · Portland, Oregon
Jen is a forty-year-old yoga instructor and divorced mom in Portland who traded panic attacks for plants and never looked back. She's Japanese-American on her father's side — third-generation, with a family history that includes wartime internment and generational silence — and white on her mother's. Her cooking is plant-forward, intuitive, and deeply influenced by both her Japanese grandmother's techniques and the Pacific Northwest farmers market she visits every Saturday rain or shine. Which in Portland means mostly rain.

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