Aubergine and Knoblauch. Just two friends overlooking the city.
I've never cooked eggplant before. Hell, I've barely even eaten it. To be completely honest, I can't think of one occasion in which I actually have eaten it in my life. I'm sure there has been a time here or there, when it might have snuck up into some vegetable dish without my conscious knowledge. The only strong memory that I have of the eggplant goes back probably ten years, when my family and I were eating at Carabba's in Cool Springs and my mother ordered Eggplant Parmesan, which took about an hour to arrive to our table. So marks the first and only eggplant experience that stands out in my memory. Shame.
But my god, what a beautiful vegetable it is. That deep, shiny purple exterior and the soft, spongy light green innards. After cooking with eggplant for the past two days, I had a dream about flying to Holland (because apparently, that is where my dream self believes they are produced), seeking out an eggplant field, and just admiring all of the plants growing like pumpkins on the ground. The Google image search that I just did (Google is eating my liiiife) definitely just showed that they certainly don't grow like pumpkins on the ground, but it's a nice thought, and I think I'll just continue thinking that they do. You know, whenever my mind wanders back to the eggplant fields in Holland.
Fresh from the Hollandic fields of eggplant dreams.
The Germans over here borrow the French term for eggplant: Aubergine. Not to sound all ex-patriot and hochnasig, but I think I prefer the German/French term. It's such an aesthetically wonderful vegetable, that I don't think the earthy and humble 'eggplant' quite does it justice. So I'll just continue to think of it an an Aubergine. Technically, for the time being, I have to think of it as an Aubergine. The Chinese people who own the vegetable store don't understand me to begin with, and I think if I started yelling "EGGPLANT!" they would just send me on my merry way.
Basil trying to get all up in Garlic's bidnizz.
I feel like I should also briefly take my position on this public forum (oh so public, with all of my three views!) to mourn the unexpected and untimely death of my Canon Powershot digital camera. It led a long, happy life, coming into my world in May 2007, shortly after my Baccalaureate graduation ceremony. It has seen a lot of this wonderful, wretched world that we live in, and really enjoyed London and Germany. Where I come from, most cameras would die happy if they get to see more than drunky antics at frat-tastic parties, so I think it's happy it died after a fulfilling life. The tragic circumstances of its death involved the self-timer setting and a natural tripod (natural tripod being a dressed-up way of saying that I stacked a few books on top of my upright backback). I walked away to strike a little pose in the forest, and then, with my back still turned, heard the sickening crash as it all toppled to the ground. I looked around in horror. Because, let's be honest, NOTHING would have been more embarrassing than: A) onlookers watching me pose for a self-timer photo to begin with and B) watching my shanty camera set-up fall to the ground. After I determined that I was free from the burning glares of onlookers, I tended to the situation. Priorities.
Apparently, Rosmarin and Koriander didn't fare so well after I forced them to view the city.
However, this did give me an opportunity to buy a new camera. It has been a long time coming. It just chaps my ass (that phrase NEVER gets old) that I had to pay in euros instead of dollars. It's funny. It pains me to spend that much money, but it simultaneously feels so good to hand over that money to buy something. I felt like I was a recovering crackie getting a hit (hey, Whitney!). Oh well, no point in crying over spilt cameras. I took the opportunity to read up about the basics of food photography (NATURAL LIGHT!!!) and test my hand at taking some pictures of the new recipe that I tried. And the Aubergine gave me a perfect subject to photograph. That certainly took me long enough to come full circle, didn't it? Better late than never.
A smudged knife is just a knife that has been used with love.
Recipe Commentary (Finally)
Here's the recipe that I used. I copied and pasted it from The Wednesday Chef. I liked it so much that I made it twice in two days. I found that I didn't use as much pasta as the recipe calls for, so I might scale that back a little bit. The sundried-tomatoes are essential! I was really hesitant buying them. It was €5 a jar. And the exchange rate isn't exactly in my favor. I can buy a t-shirt for that much (but won't, because I'm mending my spending way). But either way, it chapped my ass (again!). However, I'm glad I spend the extra chump change, because the flavor of these really enhanced the flavor of the dish, and I'll be able to use them for a while. Other than the tomatoes, all of the other ingredients were incredibly cheap. I already have some basil and thyme growing, and always have about 23 cloves of garlic handy (the REAL nectar of the gods), so all I had to buy was the eggplant/Aubergine and spaghetti. Guten Appetit!
Sometimes, things that are really oily can be good! Not faces, though.
Aubergine Spaghetti
1 pound eggplant, cut into ½ inch slices
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, lightly smashed
2 springs thyme or oregano, chopped
1 cup chicken stock or water
2 tablespoons sun-dried or oven-dried tomatoes, minced
6 leaves basil, sliced thinly
1. Lightly salt the slices of eggplant, stack them back together and let sit for 20 minutes.
"Lightly salt" to me is basically a license to kill.
2. Put the olive oil in a wide, heavy saucepan, add the garlic cloves, and set over low heat.
3. Dry off the eggplant, cut it into chunks. When you start hearing the garlic sizzle a little and can smell it, drop in your eggplant and stir to coat it all with oil. Turn up the heat a little bit to medium high and add the thyme or oregano and stir. When the eggplant is turning translucent and softening, add the liquid, let it come to a boil, and turn it back down to medium-low. Let it bubble for a bit and cover it, leaving a crack for steam to escape. Stir once in a while so that the bottom doesn’t stick.
Beautiful and translucent, just like a cheap candle.
4. After about 20 minutes or so, the liquid in the eggplant pan should be mostly evaporated and the eggplant should be soft and melting. Mash it with a fork or spoon, and adjust the seasoning to taste.
5. Toss the eggplant purée with the spaghetti that you cooked al dente. Stir in the minced tomatoes and basil. You can gild the lily with drizzling on some more oil. Serve immediately.
My brown mush is deceptively delicious and appetizing!
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