I’ve been feeling a little badly about disparaging quesadillas the other day. I would not have survived my first year of motherhood without them, but that’s also what I was remembering when I called them an “uninspired” choice for lunch: those weary, can’t-make-it-out-of-the-bathrobe days of new motherhood, when a good lunch was anything I could make and eat one-handed while my fussy child nursed in the sling. I’d often prep one early in the morning, before Tony had left for work, grating the cheese into a tortilla and then setting it into the frying pan to cook at lunchtime.
Today’s quesadilla was much better than that. I felt like a new mom only in that I was starving, so I made the extra-protein brunch treat — good for a quick kid supper, too — that we call an eggadilla: after the quesadilla is out of the frying pan, you scramble a couple of eggs quickly in the hot pan, and then tuck them into the tortilla. Since I didn’t have a baby hanging from me, I took the time to cut up some tomatoes on the side, and drizzled them with an impromptu cilantro vinaigrette (cilantro, lime juice, and olive oil, whirred in the food processor). If I knew of any new mom in the neighborhood, I’d have invited her over to share, but instead I ate it all myself, sitting down at the table with a knife and fork, reminiscing about how much has changed.