Ham and Cheese Quiche

Thanksgiving. The food drive at New Birth ran from Saturday to Wednesday — three hundred families this year. The home meal was Thursday at the townhouse. Turkey, dressing, mac, greens, cornbread, the standard battalion. Daddy said grace and held it the way only Curtis Jackson can.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

Between the food drive, the potluck casserole, the cornbread I dropped at the hospital, and the mac and cheese I carried to the neighbors’ cookout, this week asked a lot of my kitchen — and I gave it gladly. But when Saturday finally settled and I needed something I could pull together without standing over a stove all afternoon, I came back to this Ham and Cheese Quiche. It’s the kind of dish that holds — feeds a table, travels to a gathering, and asks nothing fancy of you in return. Imani taught me something at Set the Table this week: you cannot be afraid of food. This quiche is a good place to start practicing that.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 9-inch unbaked pie crust (store-bought or homemade)
1 1/2 cups diced cooked ham
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup shredded Gruyère or Swiss cheese
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups half-and-half
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
Pinch of ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons thinly sliced green onions (optional, for topping)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Place the pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish and crimp the edges. If using a refrigerated crust, let it come to room temperature for 10 minutes first.
Par-bake the crust. Line the crust with parchment paper and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove the weights and parchment and bake another 3–4 minutes until the bottom is just set. This keeps the crust from going soggy.
Layer the filling. Scatter the diced ham evenly across the bottom of the par-baked crust. Top with the cheddar and Gruyère cheeses, spreading them in an even layer.
Make the custard. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, half-and-half, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper, and nutmeg until fully combined and slightly frothy.
Fill and bake. Slowly pour the egg mixture over the ham and cheese in the crust. Scatter green onions on top if using. Bake at 375°F for 40–45 minutes, until the center is just set and the top is lightly golden. A knife inserted near the center should come out clean.
Rest before slicing. Let the quiche rest on a wire rack for at least 10 minutes before cutting. This gives the custard time to finish setting so slices hold together cleanly.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ham and Cheese Quiche — The Dish That Holds a Busy Week Together