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Wild Onion Scrambled Eggs and Bean Bread — A Mother’s Day Breakfast Made with Memory

Mother's Day Sunday. I made Terry her breakfast the way I have for several years now — I drive to Turley early, before eight, and I make the meal that Danny used to make for her before his hands got too unsteady and his breath too short. Eggs scrambled soft with wild onions, which I froze from the gathering two months ago and defrosted Thursday specifically for this. Bean bread, warmed in the oven. Coffee strong the way Terry takes it, which is very strong, in the large mug she has had since before I was born. I set it on her kitchen table and she comes out in her robe and she does not say much, because Terry does not say much about things that move her, and she eats her breakfast and we sit at the table together while the house wakes up around us.

Danny was in a good mood this Mother's Day. He was sitting up at the table when I got there, which he does not always manage this early, and he had found his old photo albums — the actual physical ones, the kind from the seventies and eighties before everything went digital — and he wanted to show them to me. So Terry ate her eggs and Danny turned pages and I sat between them and looked at pictures of people I mostly knew and some I had only heard about: Danny's mother, the one who made the hominy cakes, the one whose posole recipe Terry has been making for forty years. A young Danny — twenty, maybe, thin and sharp-faced — standing next to a truck with his arm around a woman I did not recognize.

I asked who the woman was. His first girlfriend, he said. Before Terry. He said it matter-of-factly, the way you say something that is simply true. Terry said, from the other side of the table without looking up from her coffee, "She was very pretty." Danny said yes. Terry said "hmm." That was the whole conversation and it was one of the funniest things I have witnessed in my parents' kitchen in thirty years. Some marriages communicate entirely in half-sentences and small sounds. Theirs has always been one of them.

I drove home at noon. Hannah was taking the day. I fed the kids lunch and let Hannah have the afternoon and that was Mother's Day: two women fed and appreciated, imperfectly and specifically, which is the only way appreciation works.

This is the breakfast I made for Terry that morning — the one Danny used to make before I took it over. There is nothing complicated about it. Wild onions gathered in early spring and frozen for exactly this purpose, eggs scrambled soft so they stay tender, and bean bread warmed through in the oven until the outside just barely crisps. It is the kind of meal that does not need to impress anyone because it is not trying to. It is trying to say something that is easier to say with food than with words, which is most things, in my experience.

Wild Onion Scrambled Eggs and Bean Bread

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 4

Bean Bread Ingredients

  • 2 cups stone-ground cornmeal
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 cups cooked pinto beans, drained (reserve 1/2 cup bean liquid)
  • 1/2 cup bean cooking liquid or water
  • 1/3 cup honey or maple syrup
  • 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
  • 3 tablespoons melted butter or bacon drippings

Bean Bread Instructions

  1. Preheat your oven. Set oven to 375°F. Grease a 9-inch cast iron skillet or baking pan.
  2. Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, and salt.
  3. Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, combine the reserved bean liquid, honey, beaten eggs, and melted butter. Stir until blended.
  4. Fold it together. Pour the wet mixture into the dry ingredients and stir until just combined. Gently fold in the pinto beans. Do not overmix — a few lumps are fine.
  5. Bake. Pour batter into the prepared skillet and bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
  6. Rest and serve. Let the bread cool in the skillet for 10 minutes before slicing. It warms up beautifully the next day in a low oven.

Wild Onion Scrambled Eggs Ingredients

  • 8 large eggs
  • 1 cup wild onions (fresh or frozen and thawed), green tops and bulbs, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 3 tablespoons whole milk or cream
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Wild Onion Scrambled Eggs Instructions

  1. Prep the wild onions. If using frozen wild onions, thaw and pat dry with a paper towel. Chop both the bulbs and green tops, keeping the greens separate for finishing.
  2. Cook the onion bulbs. Melt butter in a large nonstick or cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add the chopped wild onion bulbs and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they soften and smell sweet.
  3. Beat the eggs. Crack the eggs into a bowl, add the milk, salt, and pepper, and whisk until just blended. You do not want them frothy — just combined.
  4. Scramble soft. Reduce heat to medium-low and pour the egg mixture into the skillet with the onions. Stir slowly with a spatula, pushing the eggs in broad folds rather than breaking them into small pieces. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, pulling the pan off the heat when the eggs are still slightly underset — they will finish cooking from residual heat.
  5. Finish with greens. Fold in the reserved wild onion greens and give one final gentle stir. Serve immediately alongside warm bean bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 62g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 890mg

Jesse Whitehawk
About the cook who shared this
Jesse Whitehawk
Week 59 of Jesse’s 30-year story · Tulsa, Oklahoma
Jesse is a thirty-nine-year-old welder, a Cherokee Nation citizen, and a married dad of three in Tulsa who cooks over open fire because that's how his grandpa Charlie did it and his grandpa's grandpa did it before him. His food draws from Cherokee tradition, Mexican heritage from his mother's side, and Oklahoma BBQ culture. He forages wild onions every spring and makes grape dumplings in the fall, and he considers both acts of cultural survival.

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