Microwave Frittata — A Quick, Warm Thing for the Days When Grief Still Lingers

I made meatballs. Mamma's recipe. I will always make Mamma's recipe. The recipe is Mamma now. I am the recipe carrier. The carrier becomes the recipe. The recipe becomes the carrier. There is no daylight between them anymore. Karin came from Stockholm for the funeral. She slept in the basement. She drank coffee at Mamma's table (Mamma's table is now in my dining room — Erik moved it over when we cleaned out the Fifth Street house; the Kenwood dining room now has both my dining table and Mamma's, pushed together to make a single longer table). Karin said: "It is so strange that the kitchen still smells like her." I said: "I have been baking her bread." Karin understood. Erik called Sunday. He said he was thinking about Lars. He said he had not thought about Lars in a long time, not really thought about him, not the actual Lars, the twenty-year-old in 1979. Mamma's death has unlocked the older grief. Both of them at once. We sat on the phone for forty minutes mostly silent. Erik said: "It is too quiet over here, Linda." I said: "It is too quiet over here, too." We hung up. We were both alone in our too-quiet houses. The aloneness was, somehow, shared. I cooked Asparagus tart this week. Puff pastry, gruyère, asparagus laid in a pattern, baked until crisp. Served warm. Springtime on a tray. I made the soup. Fifty gallons. I served the soup. A hundred and twelve plates. I came home tired. I came home good-tired. The Thursday tired. The right tired. I sat on the couch with Sven and a glass of wine and I did not move for two hours. The body wants this kind of tired. The body has wanted this kind of tired for thirty years. I thought about Lars this week. He has been gone since 1979. The grief is old, but it is not gone. The dead do not leave. They just become quieter. Lars at twenty was funny in a particular sideways way that nobody else in the family was funny. He could make Pappa laugh, which nobody could make Pappa do. He has been gone forty-five years. I still hear his laugh sometimes, when Erik is laughing in a particular way, or when Peter accidentally tilts his head the way Lars used to. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. Mamma used to say: "En människa är vad hon ger." A person is what she gives. She said this in Swedish so often that the phrase still sounds in my head in her voice. I think about it daily. I think about what I have given, and what I have not given, and what is still to give. The accounting is mostly favorable. The accounting is, in some ways, the only accounting that matters. The Kenwood neighborhood has aged with me. The Bergmans next door (who were a young couple with three kids when Paul and I moved in) are now grandparents themselves; the Larsons across the street have moved to a smaller place; the Andersons three doors down passed away in 2017 and 2019 respectively. The block has filled in with younger families that I am too tired to fully meet. I wave from the porch. They wave back. The wave is the relationship. It is enough.

The asparagus tart was for the week’s beauty — springtime on a tray, as I wrote, something I could arrange and admire and serve warm. But there were other meals that week, quieter ones, the ones I made just for myself after Erik had hung up and the house had gone too still again. This microwave frittata is that kind of meal: fast, warm, no ceremony required. You are not performing anything. You are just feeding yourself, which, in a week like that one, is already enough of an achievement.

Microwave Frittata

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 7 min | Total Time: 12 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 4 large eggs
• 3 tablespoons whole milk
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 cup shredded cheddar or gruyère cheese
• 1/4 cup diced bell pepper (any color)
• 2 tablespoons diced yellow onion
• 2 tablespoons diced cooked ham or crumbled cooked bacon (optional)
• 1 teaspoon olive oil or softened butter, for greasing the dish

Instructions

1. Prepare the dish. Lightly grease a microwave-safe 9-inch pie dish or a deep microwave-safe skillet with the olive oil or butter, making sure the bottom and sides are coated.
2. Whisk the eggs. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt, and pepper until fully combined and slightly frothy, about 30 seconds.
3. Add the mix-ins. Stir in the diced bell pepper, onion, and ham or bacon if using. Pour the mixture into the prepared dish and spread evenly.
4. Microwave, covered. Cover the dish loosely with a microwave-safe lid or a sheet of plastic wrap vented at one corner. Microwave on medium power (50–60%) for 4 minutes.
5. Check and continue. Check the frittata — edges should be set and the center still slightly loose. Sprinkle the shredded cheese evenly over the top. Microwave uncovered on medium power for 2–3 more minutes, until the center is just set and no longer jiggles.
6. Rest and serve. Let the frittata rest in the dish for 2 minutes before slicing into wedges. Serve warm directly from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 230 | Protein: 17g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 4g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 420mg