By Day ten. Owen gained three-quarters of an ounce yesterday and the NICU nurse said that like it was the best news she had heard all week, and it was, it was the best news I had heard all week. Nora is eating better. The monitors still beep and I still jolt awake at every alarm even though most of the alarms mean nothing, are just the sensors slipping, are just their small bodies doing what small bodies do. Ryan says I need to sleep. He is right. I cannot fully sleep.
Ryan's shift schedule has rearranged itself around the NICU in a way I could not have predicted and did not ask for. His lieutenant has been covering. His crew has been sending food, actual meals in actual containers left at our apartment door, which Patty picks up and brings to the hospital. I did not know that firefighters did this. I should have known. Ryan would do it for someone else.
My parents are here every day. Steve sits next to Owen's incubator with his hands clasped and doesn't say much, which is how Steve shows up for things that matter. Patty has memorized the names and schedules of every nurse on the floor. She brought me a care package with hand lotion and a magazine and a sandwich from the place I like on 95th Street. The sandwich was perfect. I ate it in three minutes and she did not comment.
I have not cooked anything in two weeks. I have eaten what people have given me. Hospital cafeteria eggs at 6 AM. Patty's ziti reheated in the family lounge microwave. Half a granola bar from the bottom of my bag. This is not how I feed myself usually, and it doesn't matter, and also it reminds me every day of what I want to go home to: my own kitchen, my own stove, the specific comfort of making something with my own hands and feeding it to someone I love.
When I finally get back to my own kitchen, this is one of the first things I want to make — something warm and cheesy and meant to be shared, the kind of dish Patty kept showing up with that asked nothing of me except that I eat it. Spinach artichoke dip reheats perfectly in a hospital lounge microwave, it feeds whoever is there, and it feels like care made solid. If you’re looking for something to bring to a family going through something hard, this is it.
Spinach Artichoke Dip
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 (10 oz) package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
- 1 (14 oz) can artichoke hearts, drained and roughly chopped
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise
- 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9-inch baking dish or oven-safe skillet.
- Prep the spinach. Thaw the frozen spinach completely, then wring it out firmly in a clean kitchen towel or squeeze it by the handful until almost no liquid remains. This step matters — too much moisture will make the dip watery.
- Mix the base. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese until smooth. Stir in the sour cream and mayonnaise until fully combined.
- Add the fillings. Fold in the spinach, chopped artichoke hearts, garlic, 3/4 cup of the mozzarella, all of the Parmesan, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Stir until everything is evenly distributed.
- Transfer and top. Spread the mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish. Scatter the remaining 1/4 cup of mozzarella over the top.
- Bake. Bake uncovered for 22—25 minutes, until the dip is bubbling around the edges and the top is lightly golden.
- Serve. Let it rest for 5 minutes before serving. Offer alongside sliced baguette, pita chips, or sturdy crackers. To bring to someone: let it cool completely, cover tightly with foil, and reheat at 350°F for 15 minutes or in a microwave in short bursts.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 280 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 480mg