By Spring, properly speaking. The farmers market reopens the second Saturday of March and I was there, with a canvas bag, at nine AM. Asparagus and spring onions and the first rhubarb and a block of cheese from the dairy stand. Four dollars spent and I felt like I had won something. The vendors remembered me from last summer — the cheese woman said "Back for spring?" and I said I never left. She laughed and gave me an extra slice to taste.
T. had a breakthrough this week — a reading breakthrough, the kind where the pieces click in a new way. He read aloud to the group, something he has resisted all year, from a chapter book he had been reading to himself. He read three paragraphs, clear and confident, without stopping. The room was very quiet. Then Marcus made a sound on his device that his aide said means "good." Spontaneous, unprompted, directed at T. I wrote it down and I am still thinking about it. Seven months of these kids knowing each other and that is the outcome: one of them cheered for another one.
Blog post went up this week about returning to the farmers market — a post about cooking with the first spring produce, about the way seasonal eating is also a kind of time-keeping, about how the asparagus signals that March happened and that March mattering is part of why you bought the asparagus. The post ended with a line that got used in a dozen comments: "You can tell what season of your life you're in by what you're willing to spend time cooking." I did not know I thought that until I wrote it.
Made the asparagus simply: roasted at 425 with olive oil and salt, lemon squeezed over at the end. Ate it with a soft-boiled egg and bread. Under two dollars. Some things are perfect as they are and the job is just to not ruin them. I did not ruin them. The spring asparagus at 425 with a good egg is the best possible use of a March Tuesday. I am twenty-four and I know this. That is a reasonable thing to know at twenty-four.
The asparagus was perfect that Tuesday and I didn’t need to do anything more to it — but the next morning, with leftover roasted chicken in the fridge and that same farmers market energy still humming, I wanted something that felt equally simple and complete. Chicken and egg hash is that kind of recipe: honest, fast, nothing wasted, everything earned. It reminded me of what I had been thinking about all week — that the best things don’t need much, just attention and good timing.
Chicken and Egg Hash
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cups cooked chicken, diced
- 3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, diced small (about 2 cups)
- 4 large eggs
- 1 small yellow onion, diced
- 1 red bell pepper, diced
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving
Instructions
- Cook the potatoes. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the diced potatoes in a single layer, season with salt and pepper, and cook undisturbed for 5–6 minutes until golden on the bottom. Stir and continue cooking 4–5 minutes more until tender and crisp on all sides.
- Add vegetables. Add the diced onion and bell pepper to the skillet. Stir to combine and cook 3–4 minutes until softened and beginning to color at the edges.
- Add the chicken. Stir in the diced cooked chicken along with garlic powder and smoked paprika. Cook 2–3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is heated through and everything is well combined.
- Add the eggs. Use a spoon to create four wells in the hash. Crack one egg into each well. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover the skillet, and cook 4–5 minutes until the egg whites are just set but the yolks are still slightly soft, or to your preferred doneness.
- Finish and serve. Taste and adjust seasoning. Scatter fresh parsley over the top and serve directly from the skillet.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 335 | Protein: 29g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 390mg