When I was little, one of my absolute favorite meals was my mom’s quiche. Delicate, yet simultaneously and sinfully rich, it seemed like a cloud made of cheese and egg and flecked with sought-after pieces of yummy bacon. I rejoiced when I heard, after school, that it was on the menu. The whole time I was growing up, I’d hear people asking her for the recipe. I took it to a potluck once and a guy told me it was one of the best quiches he’d ever tasted. It was like this magical and complicated dish that my mother produced with her highest order homemaking skills.
Me. Pondering the mysteries of quiche.
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