Stuffed Belly sandwiches from chef Christine Ha

File the egg-salad sandwich from chef Christine Ha's Stuffed Belly drive-thru in Spring Branch under "things I didn't know I needed." It reminds me of snuggling into a favorite down comforter.

I love egg salad. I make it at home, using the mash-the-yolks technique I picked up along the way. But I don't always have the time or inclination to hard-boil the eggs, peel them, and do all the chopping and mashing and seasoning and tasting that a satisfactory result requires.

That's where the two-year-old Stuffed Belly sandwich stand comes in. Being able to drive through for a plump edition of this childhood classic feels like one of Houston's little luxuries. Emphasis on "plump": the egg salad bulges out the sides of the cushiony slices of thick Texas toast-style bread. The crusts are cut off, which underlines the softness.

If this industrial, rust-hued box with its bright orange trim were in my neighborhood, I'd be driving through weekly. Maybe more, considering that I am also a big fan of Stuffed Belly's smashburger, the subject of an upcoming post.

But it's in Spring Branch, on a parking-lot corner of the upscale shopping strip housing the Blind Goat, the modern Vietnamese restaurant that chef Ha runs with her husband and business partner, John Suh.

I've always thought Ha has a deft hand with seasoning, and that shines through in her egg salad. Dijon and yellow mustard provide just enough tart lift, and I'd swear the mere trace of hot bite comes from white pepper. There's a bit of lemon and green onion involved, too.

It's simple but effective—something your mom might have made for you if she were feeling a little bit fancy, cutting the crusts off and all. I balked at calling it the "Humpty Dumpty Eggwich" when I ordered, but otherwise I was all in.

There's a fat tuna sandwich in the same mold, but I liked it less: aside from a bit of celery and red onion, most of its effect came from salt. The surprise factor, in the form of crushed potato chips both inside and on the cut surfaces, only heightened the saltiness.

And those interior potato chips dictate that the sandwich should be consumed pretty quickly, lest they harden into leathery slabs. I found that I liked the tuna sandwich a lot more when I customized it at home with a little sweet/hot pickle relish to bounce off the salt.

I arrived at Stuffed Belly's drive-thru window at an off-hour, in mid-afternoon, so my order came up quickly, and with unusually good cheer. You can go inside for pickup or ordering, too, and there are several seats for dining in.

The drinks list has been put together with unusual care. I was struck by the sneaky-wild, fermenty edge in my blackberry lemonade, tinted black-violet-shading-to-rose with house-made fruit syrup. That little trace of funk reminded me of the Vietnamese salty lemonade I once loved at the dear, departed Pho Binh trailer. I remember spotting a glass jar of citrus percolating in the sun on the steps outside, an image still vivid after 15 years.

Stuffed Belly's menu is notably simple: two cold sandwiches, a grilled-cheese extravaganza, a fried-chicken number, and various burger permutations. There are breadless Keto options, a kid's menu and a couple of desserts, too. Ha and Suh keep things lively with frequent specials that they highlight on the website and announce on social media.

Stay tuned to hear about their Stuffed Belly smashburger this coming Friday.