Easter is early this year and Mama's anniversary is woven into it the way it always is — the holiday and the grief, inseparable, the ham and the heartbreak. April 9th is Easter Sunday. April 16th is the anniversary. The week between them is the week I hold my breath every year, the week the kitchen becomes both sanctuary and memorial, the week I open the Folgers can and measure love in teaspoons of garlic powder.
Started preparing for the anniversary ritual. This year will be the seventh. The Folgers can. The chicken. The table set for those who are here and those who aren't. Last year, Zoe fried the chicken alone for the first time and Curtis said "Brenda's chicken" to a girl named Mitchell and the world cracked open with the beauty of it. This year I don't know what will happen. That's the thing about rituals — you set the table but you can't script the grace.
Isaiah called from Charlotte on Wednesday. His first year at UNC Charlotte is going well — basketball, classes, a social life that he describes in monosyllables because Isaiah communicates the way Curtis communicates, which is to say: minimally but meaningfully. He said, "I'm good, Mom T." Three words. An entire semester contained in three words. I said, "Are you eating?" He said, "Yes." I said, "Are you eating vegetables?" Silence. The silence of a nineteen-year-old boy who considers pizza a vegetable group. I'm mailing him a care package of spice blends and a note that says "the greens won't make themselves."
At school, Aaliyah came back to my office. Second visit. The armor is still on but there's a crack — she told me she likes to draw. I said, "What do you draw?" She said, "Flowers. But not real flowers. Made-up ones." I said, "The best flowers are the made-up ones." She looked at me like I'd said something radical. I just told a twelve-year-old that imagination is valid. This shouldn't be radical. It is.
Made Easter prep food all week: deviled eggs on Tuesday, mac and cheese base on Wednesday, cornbread mix prepped on Thursday. The muscle memory of holiday cooking is its own kind of prayer — hands moving through motions that Mama's hands moved through, flour measured by feel, eggs cracked one-handed because Mama said two hands was wasting time. Zoe helped with the mac and cheese. She grated the cheese — sharp cheddar, mild cheddar, and a handful of Gruyère that Mama never used but I add because evolution is not betrayal. Zoe grated and I stirred and the kitchen smelled like Tuesday nights at Cascade Heights and the line held.
After a week of moving through the Easter prep by muscle memory — deviled eggs, the mac and cheese base, Zoe grating cheese while I stirred — I wanted something that could anchor Easter morning itself, something that felt both celebratory and grounded, the way the whole week feels. This Sunny Side Up Herbed Tart is the kind of dish Mama would have called “company food that doesn’t make you nervous,” and that’s exactly what I need: a table centerpiece that honors the holiday without demanding more than I’ve already given. The eggs sitting sunny and open in the herbs feel right for a morning that asks you to show up with your whole heart.
Sunny Side Up Herbed Tart
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 sheet refrigerated pie crust (or homemade single-crust pastry)
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 cup ricotta cheese
- 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
- 1 tablespoon fresh chives, chopped
- 1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- 5 large eggs
- Flaky sea salt, for finishing
Instructions
- Preheat and prep the pan. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9-inch tart pan or pie dish and press the pie crust evenly into the bottom and up the sides. Prick the bottom several times with a fork, then blind bake for 10 minutes until just set. Remove and set aside.
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 8–10 minutes until softened and lightly golden. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
- Make the herbed base. In a bowl, stir together the ricotta, Parmesan, thyme, chives, parsley, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Fold in the cooked onion and garlic mixture until evenly combined.
- Fill the crust. Spread the herbed ricotta mixture evenly across the par-baked crust, smoothing it to the edges with a spatula. Leave slight indentations across the surface where the eggs will rest — make five wells spaced evenly.
- Add the eggs. Crack one egg gently into each well, keeping the yolks whole and sunny side up. Season the eggs lightly with salt and a crack of black pepper.
- Bake. Transfer to the oven and bake for 22–25 minutes, until the egg whites are fully set but the yolks remain slightly soft and glossy. Check at 20 minutes if you prefer runnier yolks.
- Finish and serve. Remove from oven and let rest 5 minutes. Finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt and additional fresh herbs if desired. Slice into wedges and serve warm.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 290 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 20g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 380mg