Ronald was officially diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes at his annual physical. I know what you are thinking — he has been diabetic for a while. Yes. But this week the doctor put a number on it: his A1C is 8.4, which is poorly controlled. The doctor said diet, exercise, and medication adjustments. Mama heard "diet" and launched a campaign that would make a military strategist weep with admiration. She researched diabetic cooking. She bought a new cookbook. She replaced the sugar bowl with Splenda. She told Dad that Pepsi was dead to her and to him, and if she found another can in this house, the consequences would be "Biblical."
Dad accepted the diagnosis the way he accepts everything: with a nod and silence. He went to the plant the next day (he is still working, barely, on light duty because the neuropathy makes standing for long periods painful), and he came home, and he ate what Mama put in front of him, and he did not complain. He will not complain. He will adjust. He will endure. He is Ronald Carter, and Carters do not stop.
But I saw something in his eyes this week that I have never seen before: fear. Not the sharp fear of a crisis, but the slow fear of a man who understands that his body has turned against him, that the same body that built Jeeps for thirty-one years is now failing from the inside, that the food he loves is the food that is killing him. He is sixty, and he looked at his plate of vegetables and lean chicken (Mama's new protocol) and I could see him mourning the meals he has lost.
I made him smothered pork chops. Not Mama's version — my version, adjusted: leaner pork, less salt, more herbs, the gravy made with less butter and more stock. It was not as rich as Mama's. It was not supposed to be. It was supposed to be something Dad could eat without Mama's alarm going off, something that tasted like the food he loves without being the food that hurts him. He ate two. He did not say anything. But he ate two, and when you are watching your father lose the things that give him pleasure, watching him eat two of something you made is a kind of joy that has no name.
Dad ate two servings of the pork chops without a word, and I took that as everything. But not every night can be a special occasion, and Mama’s new protocol runs seven days a week — so I went looking for something I could put in front of him on a Tuesday, something filling and real, that wouldn’t spike his numbers or his pride. This frittata — eggs, zucchini, Tuscan kale, a little olive oil and garlic — turned out to be exactly that: quiet, nourishing, the kind of food that doesn’t make a fuss about being good for you. He didn’t mourn this plate. That matters more than I can say.
Zucchini Frittata with Tuscan Kale
Prep Time: 12 min | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 34 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 8 large eggs
- 1/4 cup low-fat milk or unsweetened almond milk
- 1 medium zucchini, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
- 2 cups Tuscan (lacinato) kale, tough stems removed, leaves roughly chopped
- 1/2 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
- 3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 375°F. Position a rack in the center.
- Whisk the eggs. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes until fully combined and slightly frothy. Set aside.
- Sauté the vegetables. Heat the olive oil in a 10-inch oven-safe skillet (cast iron works best) over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3–4 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Add zucchini and kale. Add the zucchini slices and cook for 2–3 minutes until just beginning to soften. Add the kale and thyme, tossing to wilt the kale into the pan, about 2 minutes. Spread everything into an even layer.
- Pour in the eggs. Reduce heat to medium-low. Pour the egg mixture evenly over the vegetables. Let it cook undisturbed on the stovetop for 3–4 minutes until the edges just begin to set.
- Finish in the oven. Sprinkle Parmesan evenly over the top. Transfer the skillet to the oven and bake for 10–12 minutes, until the center is set and no longer jiggles and the top is lightly golden.
- Rest and slice. Remove from the oven and let rest 5 minutes before slicing into wedges. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 165 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 265mg
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 114 of DeShawn’s 30-year story
· Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.