Vegetarian Egg Strata

Hana is nine months old. She has eight teeth. She eats with her hands — pincer grasp, picking up small pieces of steamed sweet potato, rice, soft tofu, banana, with the precision of a person sorting jewels. She feeds herself and the highchair tray and the floor and occasionally the dog that the neighbors bring by (there is no dog; I am hallucinating from sleep deprivation; there is a cat from next door that visits the porch, and Hana waves at it). She is independent in her eating. She is determined. She is a Park-Chen: she does things herself, thoroughly, with no regard for mess.

David and Karen come to the condo every Saturday. It is the grandparent routine — a routine that has become the foundation of the week, the anchor, the thing that does not move even as everything else shifts. David arrives with a project (this week: a small wooden step stool he built for Hana, for when she is tall enough to stand at a counter; she is not tall enough yet; David builds ahead). Karen arrives with her walker and her lipstick and her opinions about whatever mystery novel she is reading. She sits in the armchair. James puts Hana in her lap. Hana grabs Karen's fingers. Karen's fingers shake. Hana holds them anyway. Hana has always held Karen's shaking fingers. For Hana, this is normal. For Hana, halmeoni Karen's fingers shake and that is part of the holding and the holding is love.

This Saturday, Karen said something that I will carry forever. She was holding Hana, and Hana was babbling — "ma-ma-ma" sounds directed at Karen's face — and Karen said, "She is telling me something." I said, "She is babbling." Karen said, "She is telling me that she is here. She is saying: I am here, halmeoni. I am here." Karen looked at me. She said, "She is saying the thing I said to you at the airport thirty-one years ago. I am here. You are mine. We are together." I could not speak. I sat on the couch and I could not speak because Karen was right. Hana was saying the only thing any baby says to any grandmother: I am here. The words don't matter. The presence does. Hana is present. Karen is present. The presence is the message.

The recipe this week is Karen's green bean casserole — the Thanksgiving staple, made early because I was thinking about Karen and Thanksgiving and the Bellevue kitchen and the food that Karen always made and the way food carries people even when their hands shake and their voices tremble. Green beans, cream of mushroom soup, crispy fried onions. Bake at 350 for thirty minutes. It is the most American dish I know. It is Karen's dish. It is the dish that says: I am here. I made this. Eat. The green beans are not Korean. The green beans are not mine. The green beans are Karen's, and Karen's things are mine too, because she made me, and the making was imperfect, and the imperfection was love.

Karen’s green bean casserole is Karen’s, and I am not ready to make it without her standing in my kitchen telling me I am doing it wrong — so this week I made something in the same spirit: a baked, layered, everyone-at-the-table casserole that holds its shape and feeds people without fuss, the way Karen always did. The egg strata goes together the night before, sits quietly in the refrigerator, and asks almost nothing of you in the morning except that you put it in the oven and be present — which is, after all, the whole point.

Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus overnight chill) | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes (plus overnight) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

8 slices day-old white or whole-wheat sandwich bread, cubed
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
2 cups fresh baby spinach, roughly chopped
1 cup sliced mushrooms
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
6 large eggs
2 cups whole milk
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
Cooking spray or butter, for the baking dish

Instructions

Prep the dish. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with cooking spray or butter. Spread the cubed bread evenly across the bottom of the dish.
Cook the vegetables. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until softened. Add the mushrooms and garlic and cook 3 minutes more. Stir in the spinach and cook just until wilted, about 1 minute. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
Layer the strata. Spoon the cooked vegetables evenly over the bread cubes. Sprinkle 1 cup of the cheddar cheese over the top.
Make the egg custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika until smooth and well combined.
Assemble and chill. Pour the egg custard evenly over the bread and vegetable layers, pressing down gently so the bread absorbs the liquid. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup of cheddar over the top. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 8 hours or overnight.
Bake. Remove the strata from the refrigerator 20 minutes before baking. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bake uncovered for 45–50 minutes, until the top is golden, the edges are set, and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
Rest and serve. Let the strata rest for 10 minutes before cutting. Serve warm, directly from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vegetarian Egg Strata — The Dish That Says I Am Here