Ham and Broccoli Quiche

March. Every year it arrives and I feel my body know it before my mind does — a tightening around the sternum, a different quality to waking up in the morning, something watchful. Marcus died in April but March is when his dying began, when the diagnosis came back and the shape of our life changed without announcing that it was doing so. March is the month I started counting without knowing I was counting.

I have been doing this for four years now. Learning to walk into March upright. It gets different each year, which is not the same as easier — different is its own category. This year I walked into the garden on March first and planted my peas, which I do every year on the first, because that is what Bernice did and what her mother did and the peas are not consulted about whether you're ready for spring. You put them in and they go about their business.

Kezia came Saturday and I let her take the lead for the first time — I gave her a recipe, my mother's chicken and dumplings, and I told her to read it and cook it while I watched. She did exactly that. She moved carefully at first, then with more confidence as the broth came together. The dumplings were slightly uneven but they tasted right, which is what matters. When she tasted the broth and it was good she turned around with a look on her face that I know from the inside — the particular combination of surprise and recognition that comes when you do something for the first time that you already know.

Afterward she asked what my mother was like. I told her the truest things I know: she was quiet and precise, she cooked like she was in a hurry even when she wasn't, she could tell if a dish needed salt from across the kitchen, and she never wasted anything. Kezia wrote all of it down. The recipes and the portraits together. She is making something, this girl, with all those pages. I am curious to see what.

My mother’s chicken and dumplings is what I gave Kezia that Saturday, but the recipe I return to on my own — the one I make for myself in the careful, watchful weeks of March — is this ham and broccoli quiche. It is the kind of dish my mother would have approved of: precise and forgiving at once, nothing wasted, everything earning its place in the pan. I make it when I need to feel capable in a kitchen, which is to say I make it often this time of year.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 9-inch unbaked pie crust
1 cup diced cooked ham
1 cup broccoli florets, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups half-and-half
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Pinch of ground nutmeg

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 375°F. Place the unbaked pie crust in a 9-inch pie dish and crimp the edges. If the crust seems soft, refrigerate it for 10 minutes while you prepare the filling.
Blanch the broccoli. Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil. Add the chopped broccoli and cook for 2 minutes, just until bright green. Drain well and pat dry — excess moisture will soften the crust.
Build the layers. Scatter the diced ham evenly across the bottom of the pie crust. Add the blanched broccoli in an even layer, then top with the shredded cheddar.
Make the custard. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, half-and-half, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and nutmeg until fully combined and slightly frothy.
Fill and bake. Pour the custard mixture slowly and evenly over the layered fillings. Transfer to the oven and bake for 40–45 minutes, until the center is just set and the top is golden. A knife inserted in the center should come out clean.
Rest before slicing. Let the quiche sit for at least 10 minutes before cutting. This allows the custard to firm up and makes for cleaner slices. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ham and Broccoli Quiche — The Recipes and the Portraits Together