A Make-Ahead Christmas Morning Breakfast Casserole

Christmas morning at our house starts early and loud. Lila, who is six and has been counting down since Thanksgiving, will be standing at our bedroom door by six o'clock, maybe earlier, in her flannel pajamas with Pepper trailing behind her. Nobody in this family wants to be cracking eggs while the stockings are being emptied. That's why, for the past several years, breakfast has been assembled the night before and simply slid into the oven in the morning.

This casserole is nothing fancy. It's the kind of thing every church cookbook in the South has a version of: bread, sausage, eggs, cheese, and milk, left overnight in the fridge so it all soaks together. In the morning it puffs up golden and smells like a holiday. Here's how we make ours, with what it costs at Food Lion this month.

Ingredients (serves 8 generously)

• 1 pound breakfast sausage, mild or hot (about $4.50)
• 8 cups day-old bread in 1-inch cubes, about one loaf of French or sandwich bread (about $2.50)
• 2 cups shredded sharp cheddar (about $3)
• 10 large eggs (about $3)
• 2 1/2 cups whole milk (about $1)
• 1 teaspoon dry mustard
• 1/2 teaspoon salt and a good few grinds of black pepper
• 4 green onions, sliced (about $0.80)
• Butter for the dish

Rough total: about $15, using pantry spices. That's less than a single trip through a drive-through for the three of us, and it feeds everyone who stops by, with leftovers.

The night before

1. Butter a 9x13 baking dish generously, sides and all.
2. Brown the sausage in a skillet over medium heat, breaking it into small pieces. Drain off most of the fat on a paper towel.
3. Spread half the bread cubes in the dish. Scatter half the sausage and half the cheese over them. Repeat with the rest of the bread, sausage, and cheese.
4. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs, milk, dry mustard, salt, and pepper until completely smooth. Stir in most of the green onions, saving a few for the top.
5. Pour the egg mixture slowly and evenly over the bread. Press down gently with a spatula so every cube gets wet.
6. Cover tightly with foil and refrigerate overnight, at least 8 hours.

Christmas morning

1. Take the dish out of the fridge as soon as you're up, and let it sit on the counter for 30 minutes while you turn the oven to 350°F. (I do this before the coffee, which tells you how committed I am.)
2. Bake, still covered with foil, for 30 minutes.
3. Remove the foil and bake another 20 to 25 minutes, until the center is set and the top is golden and puffed. A knife in the middle should come out clean.
4. Let it rest 10 minutes, scatter the reserved green onions over the top, and cut into squares.

That one hour in the oven covers stockings and the first round of presents almost exactly. By the time the wrapping paper is knee-deep, breakfast is ready.

Notes from several Christmases

• Use stale bread. Fresh bread turns to mush. If yours is fresh, cube it a day early and leave it out on a sheet pan.
• Don't skip the overnight rest. I tried a same-morning version once and the bottom was dry while the top was soggy.
• Swaps that work: diced ham instead of sausage, pepper jack instead of cheddar, a handful of sautéed mushrooms or spinach. Ben likes a little hot sauce whisked into the eggs.
• Vegetarian version: skip the meat and add sautéed onions and peppers plus an extra half cup of cheese.
• Leftovers keep three days in the fridge and reheat well in the microwave, about a minute a square.
• Feeding a smaller crowd? Halve everything and use an 8x8 dish. Check it at 40 minutes total.

Why a simple breakfast matters to us

We keep Christmas small on purpose. Our gifts and decorations together come to about $350, and we've found the day feels richer, not poorer, for it. What Lila talks about afterward isn't usually what was under the tree. It's the stockings, the ornaments she made at school, and "the egg bread," as she has called this since she was three.

There's something steadying, too, about knowing the morning is already taken care of. The house is warmer this year after the attic work last month, the tree is lit, and the casserole is waiting in the fridge under its foil like a promise. All that's left to do is wake up, turn on the oven, and let the day begin.

I'll set the dish together on the twenty-fourth after Lila's in bed, while Ben wraps the last few gifts at the kitchen table and pretends not to sample the sausage. It has become as much a part of our Christmas Eve as the lights on the porch.