End of April and finals are three weeks away, which means the library is at capacity by nine AM and everyone in the dorm smells like stress and cold brew coffee. I have two papers due, a seminar presentation, and an observation hour at a local school to complete before the semester ends. I am not panicking. I am making lists. Lists are how I manage the feeling that everything is happening at once — I write it all down and then I do the first thing on the list and then the next thing.
The observation hour was at a school in DeKalb, a third-grade class. The teacher had the whole room arranged in clusters of four desks, and there was a kid in the back-left cluster who spent most of the morning rocking slightly in his chair, the way kids do when they are working hard to stay regulated. The teacher never called attention to it. She just moved near him when the noise got loud and put her hand briefly on the corner of his desk. He stopped rocking. It was the most elegant thing I have ever seen a teacher do.
Made a frittata this week — eggs, whatever vegetables I had, shredded cheese. I had half a bell pepper, some spinach from a bag that was close to its end, three mushrooms, and half an onion. Beat six eggs with a splash of milk, salt and pepper, poured it over the vegetables I had sauteed in the oven-safe skillet, started it on the stovetop and then put the whole pan in the oven at 375 until it was set and golden on top. Total cost maybe two fifty.
The frittata lasted three days — breakfast, lunch, a late snack with crackers. It is the kind of meal that sounds more impressive than it is, which I appreciate at the end of the semester when I want to feel like I am holding things together. A frittata says: I cooked a real meal. Even if the real meal took eleven minutes and cost less than three dollars. The staying upright is the hard part. The frittata is easy.
The frittata that week used what I had—spinach close to the end of its bag life, half a pepper, three mushrooms—and it reminded me that the vegetable is really the whole point. Eggs hold it together, but the greens are what make it feel like a real meal. Swiss chard is the same kind of workhorse: fast, cheap, and quietly impressive, the kind of thing a person makes when they are trying to hold the week together and also eat something that is not cereal. If you have a skillet and ten minutes, you have dinner.
Sautéed Swiss Chard
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 large bunch Swiss chard (about 1 lb), stems and leaves separated
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 teaspoon lemon juice or apple cider vinegar
Instructions
- Prep the chard. Rinse the Swiss chard and pat dry. Slice the stems into 1/2-inch pieces and roughly chop the leaves. Keep them separate—the stems need a head start.
- Sautée the stems. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the chard stems and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 3–4 minutes until they begin to soften.
- Add garlic and pepper flakes. Add the sliced garlic and red pepper flakes if using. Stir and cook for 1 minute until fragrant, being careful not to let the garlic brown.
- Wilt the leaves. Add the chard leaves in batches, turning with tongs to coat in the oil. Season with salt and pepper. Cook 3–4 minutes, stirring frequently, until leaves are wilted and tender.
- Finish and serve. Remove from heat and add a squeeze of lemon juice or a splash of vinegar. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve warm as a side, or layer into eggs for a frittata.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 80 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 220mg