Portobello Melts

Easter. Sugar, Resurrection Sunday is the biggest service of the year and the biggest cooking day of the year next to Christmas. Calvin preached and the choir sang every verse of every hymn and the church was full and people stood. The fellowship hall after service held three hundred plates. I cooked Saturday into Sunday morning. The lamb was lamb (I do not normally cook lamb but Easter is Easter). The mac and cheese, the greens, the rolls, the pies. The family ate at home Sunday evening — I sat down for the first time at six PM and Calvin laughed at me because I sat down so hard.

Calvin preached Sunday on Job's patience. The church said amen. CJ called from Huntsville. The grandchildren — Caleb (1), Naomi — are well. Shanice sends her love.

I made mac and cheese this week, baby. Three cheeses — sharp cheddar, monterey jack, a little gruyere because I am fancy now — butter, milk, eggs, no measuring. Into the cast iron in the oven for thirty-five minutes until the crust browned. The crust is the whole point, sugar. The crust is what tells you it is done.

The skillet is hanging on its hook. The hymn is in my head. Amen.

Mr. Henderson across the street brought me a bag of pecans Friday from his tree. I made a pecan pie with them. I took half of it back to him. He said, Loretta, this is wrong, you took my pecans and gave me back a pie. I said, that is exactly right. That is how it works.

Calvin Jr. called Tuesday night. He was tired. He had been at work twelve hours. I told him, baby, eat something. He said, Mama, I will. I said, what did you eat last. He said, a granola bar. I said, baby, that is not eating. He laughed.

A new young wife joined the Saturday cooking class. Twenty-two years old. She does not know how to make rice. I will teach her. The chain extends.

Sister Patrice's husband had heart surgery this week. I drove a meal over Tuesday — chicken and rice, cornbread, peach cobbler. She cried at the door. I told her, baby, eat the food. The food was the saying.

The kitchen smelled like garlic and onion all afternoon Wednesday. Calvin came home from his Bible study and stood in the doorway and said, Loretta, what are we eating. I said, baby, you will see. He said, that is a yes from me. He has been saying that for fifty years.

I have been thinking about heaven a lot lately. I do not know what I think. I know what Calvin preaches. I know what the AME doctrine says. I know what my Mama believed. I am at the age, sugar, where heaven is more than a Sunday school answer. I am working on it.

Sister Beulah came by Tuesday afternoon to drop off the bulletins. She stayed for coffee. We talked about the church, about her grandbaby, about the heat. The visit was the visit.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon. The neighborhood was quiet. Mr. Henderson across the street waved. I waved back. The porches are the original social network, sugar. We have been at this since Eden.

I drove to the grocery Saturday morning. Greens, three pounds. Onions, two big ones. Buttermilk, half gallon. Cornmeal, the good kind. Salt, because I always run out of salt.

Bernice's Table Tuesday. The team was sharp. The food held. The room held.

Doris called Thursday. Three times a week, the standard. We talked about Calvin's health. We talked about Harold's health. We talked about the family. We talked about what I was cooking.

After a week of Easter lamb and three-cheese mac and four hundred conversations and one peach cobbler delivered to Sister Patrice’s door, I needed something that would come together quietly in my own kitchen — something with good cheese, real heat, and that moment when the top browns and you know it’s ready. These Portobello Melts gave me that. The cast iron does the work. You just have to trust it.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large portobello mushroom caps, stems and gills removed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, sliced
1/2 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced and caramelized
4 slices provolone or Swiss cheese
1/4 cup shredded sharp cheddar
4 slices thick-cut bread or ciabatta, toasted
2 tablespoons mayonnaise or Dijon mustard (optional, for spreading)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with foil or lightly oil a cast iron skillet.
Season the mushrooms. Brush both sides of each portobello cap with olive oil. Sprinkle with garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and black pepper.
Roast the caps. Place mushrooms gill-side down on the prepared pan. Roast 10 minutes, then flip gill-side up and roast another 5 minutes until tender and beginning to brown at the edges.
Load and melt. Remove from oven. Layer each cap with caramelized onion, roasted red peppers, a slice of provolone, and a pinch of shredded cheddar. Return to oven and broil 3–4 minutes until cheese is bubbling and the edges have browned. Watch it — the crust is the whole point.
Build the melt. Spread toasted bread with mayonnaise or Dijon if using. Set each loaded mushroom cap on a slice. Serve open-faced or topped with a second slice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Portobello Melts — The Crust Is the Whole Point