Ham and Avocado Scramble — The Eggs I Made When the Week Asked for Something Simple

Mamma's bread pans are on the shelf where they have always been — the rectangular tin one for limpa, the round enameled one for cardamom, the small loaf pan for the test batches she made on Tuesdays. I use them. The using is the keeping. Every time I knead bread in her bowl with her wooden spoon and slide the loaf into her pan, she is in the kitchen with me. She is not. She is. Both things. Gerald at the Damiano Center asked about Mamma. I said she was gone. He hugged me. The hug was longer than I expected. Gerald is a thoughtful man and not a hugger by inclination, and the hug from him was a weighted thing. He said, "Linda, my mother died when I was nine and I have missed her every day since." He said: "It does not stop. But it changes." I said: "I know." We kept ladling soup. Forty more bowls. The hug was over. The work continued. Sophie is showing now. The baby is due in summer. She is naming her Ingrid. The name was a gift, given to me at the worst time, which is also the right time. Mamma would approve. Mamma did, in fact, know — Sophie told her in October, before Mamma's mind started slipping at the end. Mamma had cried. Mamma had said, "Sophie, that is the right thing." The right thing carries forward. Sophie had her baby. A girl. They named her Ingrid, after Mamma. I drove to Minneapolis. I held her — she was tiny, with the same dark hair Sophie had at birth, with eyes that tracked the room with serious attention. I said in Swedish: Välkommen, lilla Ingrid. Welcome, little Ingrid. I cried. Mamma would have approved. Mamma did approve, in the months before she went, when Sophie told her the plan. The name is the bridge. I cooked Deviled eggs this week. Hard-boiled eggs, yolks mashed with mayonnaise, mustard, vinegar, dill, paprika sprinkled on top. The picnic standard. The potluck standard. The standard. The Damiano Center: the regular Thursday. The soup is the soup. The conversations are the conversations. The week is held by the Thursday. I do not know what I would do without the Thursday. The Thursday is the structural element of the week. The structural element does not collapse if the rest of the week goes sideways. The Thursday holds. The lake was iron gray. The kind of gray Paul loved. He used to say: "That is the gray that means weather is coming." He was always right. I miss being told. I miss being told what the lake means by a man who knew what the lake meant. I have learned to read the lake on my own. I am, at this point, an adequate reader. I am not as good as Paul was. I am better than I would have been if I had not had to learn. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. It is enough.

The deviled eggs I made that week were the potluck standard, the picnic standard — Mamma’s standard — and they asked almost nothing of me, which was exactly right. Eggs have always been that for me: the food that shows up when the week is too much. This ham and avocado scramble carries the same spirit — quick, grounding, a little rich, the kind of thing you make when you need to eat something real without ceremony. Paul would have eaten it without comment, which is the highest compliment he gave to weekday food. I make it now for myself, at the table by the window that looks toward the lake.

Ham and Avocado Scramble

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 4 large eggs
• 2 tablespoons milk
• 1/2 cup diced cooked ham
• 1 ripe avocado, peeled, pitted, and diced
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons diced red onion
• Salt and black pepper, to taste
• Fresh chives or parsley, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Whisk the eggs. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk until well combined. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
2. Sauté the ham and onion. Melt butter in a nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the diced red onion and cook for 2 minutes until softened. Add the diced ham and cook another 2 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly golden.
3. Scramble the eggs. Pour the egg mixture into the skillet. Let it sit undisturbed for about 30 seconds, then gently fold and stir with a spatula, pulling the eggs from the edges toward the center. Cook until just set but still slightly soft, about 3–4 minutes total. Remove from heat — residual heat will finish them.
4. Fold in the avocado. Gently fold in the diced avocado just before serving so it warms through without turning mushy.
5. Serve. Divide between two plates. Garnish with fresh chives or parsley if desired. Eat while warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 370 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 27g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 680mg