Brunch Strata — What You Make the Morning After You Can’t Make Anything Better

The day after Clay left. December 26th, 2018. The house smells like turkey and pine and absence. The Christmas tree is still lit. The kitchen is clean — too clean, because Connie stress-cleaned at five AM after I drove Clay to the airport. She scrubbed the counter where the soup bean pot sat. She organized the pantry. She wiped down the refrigerator. These are the acts of a woman who needs her hands to do something productive because her heart is doing something destructive, and cleaning is the opposite of falling apart.

I sat at the kitchen table with coffee and the leftovers and the specific silence of a house that had been full twelve hours ago and is now empty in the way that only a departure creates — not the quiet of nobody home, but the quiet of someone recently gone. The ghost of Clay's presence is in the chair where he sat, in the bowl where he ate the soup beans, in the air that still holds the sound of his voice saying "See you in February."

I ate leftover turkey. Cold, straight from the container, with my fingers, at six-thirty in the morning, because there are no rules on December 26th and because the turkey tasted like Christmas and Christmas tasted like Clay and I needed one more taste before the taste was gone.

This post is short because I don't have more words this week. Clay is in Georgia. He deploys in February. The kitchen is clean. The tree is lit. The turkey is cold. I'm okay. I'm not okay. I'm a man eating turkey with his fingers at dawn and that's the most honest sentence I've ever written.

I didn’t make this the morning Clay left — I ate cold turkey with my fingers and called it enough. But a few days later, when the tree was still lit and the house was still too quiet and Connie needed her hands to do something again, she made this strata with the last of the Christmas bread and whatever was left in the refrigerator, and it was the first warm thing either of us had eaten since he walked out the door. It’s not a complicated recipe. That’s exactly why it works.

Brunch Strata

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min (plus overnight rest) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 8 slices day-old white or sourdough bread, cubed (about 6 cups)
• 2 cups cooked turkey or ham, diced
• 1 1/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese, divided
• 1/2 cup diced green bell pepper
• 1/2 cup diced onion
• 6 large eggs
• 2 cups whole milk
• 1 teaspoon dry mustard
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• 2 tablespoons butter, for greasing and dotting

Instructions

1. Prepare the dish. Butter a 9x13 inch baking dish generously. Spread half the bread cubes in an even layer across the bottom.
2. Layer the filling. Scatter the diced turkey (or ham) evenly over the bread. Add the green pepper and onion. Sprinkle 1 cup of the cheddar over the top. Cover with the remaining bread cubes.
3. Make the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, dry mustard, salt, and pepper until fully combined. Pour the custard evenly over the layered bread and filling, pressing down gently so every piece absorbs some liquid.
4. Rest overnight. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 8 hours or overnight. This is what makes it a strata — the bread needs time to absorb.
5. Bake. Remove from refrigerator 30 minutes before baking. Preheat oven to 350°F. Uncover, sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup cheddar over the top, and dust with paprika. Dot with small pieces of butter. Bake uncovered for 50–55 minutes, until the center is set and the top is golden brown.
6. Rest and serve. Let the strata sit for 10 minutes before cutting. Serve warm, directly from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 520mg