Eggs California

Community Voices X Pen Parentis - a Christmas story + recipe for you by Kristen Moraine

Today we’re bringing you an essay from our Community Voices - authentic stories relating to families and food, with recipes from our community members. Kristen Moraine shares a story about her family’s tradition sharing Christmas breakfast together, eating Eggs California.

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Pen Parentis, a national nonprofit that helps writers stay on creative track after having kids, is proud to sponsor Community Voices X Pen Parentis. We believe that creative careers are as valuable as corporate careers, and that they should be given the same respect. Do you have kids and a writing career? Check out our annual Writing Fellowship for New Parents, our free monthly Literary Salons, and a Cycle of Support that includes membership, mentorship and accountability meetups. More info about the help we offer writers who are also parents at writerparentannex.com 

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Eggs California

By Kristen Moraine
“That’s too much cheese,” my mom says, peering over Gram’s shoulder and into the giant silver bowl. Gram scoffs and dumps more cheese in. She stirs.

“Throw it all in,” my aunt says from her post on the other side of the kitchen counter. “It’s Christmas.”

“But one pound?” My mom eyes the creased and stained recipe on the counter and Gram nudges her back with a bump of the hip.

“You’re in charge of the avocados,” Gram says. She stirs again, this time adding the green chilis. “But not yet. I’ll tell you when.”

We all know by now that the timing is key. Once Gram puts the dish in the oven it’ll be 40 minutes, and Mom will start slicing the avocados with 10 minutes left on the clock so that the avocados are at their best. Mom always arranges the fresh slices in a pretty green fan on a white porcelain plate. That’s when we know it’s go-time. Eggs California is only Eggs California once the avocados rest on top with a dollop of sour cream and salsa. If the avocados aren’t right, you just have a casserole. Mom knows this and gives the avocados a squeeze now, testing them.

“Think these are ready?” she asks, handing one to me. I give it the obligatory squeeze and then pause, considering.

“Perfect.” I nod and hand it back. I know my role here—sous to the sous.

Gram is done mixing and wipes her hand on the towel draped over her shoulder. She pauses, her breathing a sound caught somewhere between a hum and a whoosh. I always strain to listen, to hear the tune that’s in her head as she works, but it’s clearly only meant for her. These days I wonder if it’s really singing, or the sound of too much exertion.

My brother appears and picks up the casserole dish before Gram can lift it.

“All set?” he asks, but he moves before she can answer or object to the job being done for her. It impresses me every time, how he helps without ever making her feel she needs it.

This is the trick with Gram, a woman who has been wife, mother, nurse, business owner, volunteer and friend, but never the one to need any help herself. Until now.

After setting the dish in the oven, my brother picks at the fruit plate on the counter. Gram smacks his hand. “We’ll be out of raspberries,” she says.

“Last one. Two,” he says and pops two more in his mouth. His smile turns Gram’s mouth at the corners even as she tsk tsk’s him out of the kitchen.

“Set the table,” she tells him.

“On it.” He tosses placemats onto the table like frisbees with a fwoosh for all twelve as they slide across the surface, but then his wife pulls him away. The new baby, the dirty diaper, the sleep schedule...

I finish the table and look for those pretty little dishes for the jam. No one remembers exactly when we started adding croissants to this meal, but it was probably Gram’s idea. In her world no breakfast is complete without butter and jam, and the croissants are the perfect vehicle for both. Sure the croissants are French and Eggs California is inspired by Mexican fare, but it’s also true that Gram discovered the dish not in California but in Washington State on Whidbey Island, where they likely didn’t have many avocados on hand. The origins and regional assignments don’t matter, but the tradition does. And in our family, Christmas morning isn’t complete until we’ve had Eggs California. Once the kids have finished ripping open presents and we’ve all had dozens of Christmas cookies (chased with too much coffee for the adults) Gram starts mixing.

A serving of Eggs California, and a photo of Kristen’s Gram, Lenore, serving breakfast at her B&B in the early 90’s.

—> Behind the Paywall: Read the rest of Kristen’s story and her family’s recipe for Eggs California . . .