Eggplant... such an rotund, gloomy little vegetable. Is it purple or black? I'm never quite sure. I always see the shadowy mountain of eggplant at the grocery store or farmer's market and wonder if it reminds me of massive grapes or black coal. It's such a misunderstood vegetable (or fruit, actually, I'm told). Who has ever heard of anything being done with it besides eggplant parmesean? As much as I long to be an adventurer, there's quite an anchor of traditionalism within me. So, in my attempt to befriend eggplant, I dare not venture too far from the beaten path.
Hence, my weekend adventure with eggplant parmesean. This adventure actually began over Christmas break when my grandmother served eggplant parmesean that a friend had made for her... the hearty red sauce, the crusty coating on the soft egg plant, the gooey cheeses, and tantilizing spices all made my tongue dance with delight. I decided then and there that I must try to make it myself, especially since one of my dear friends is a vegetarian and I am always on the lookout for recipes we can try together.
So, I found a recipe on one of my favorite cooking blogs, stocked up the basic incredients from the grocery store - cheeses, canned tomatoes, garlic - and invited two friends over. I bought the eggplant at the farmer's market and picked up fresh basil, too (I am convinced the fresh basil is what made the dish - fresh herbs are a new discovery for me and I'm wondering why I ever used that dry stuff!). Of course, when I actually started to cook, it took much longer than expected. New recipes have a funny way of doing that. Like most things in life, nothing runs as smoothly as it appears on the nice, neat little recipe card where all the ingredients line up neatly one right after the other and everyone remembers to preheat the oven. Regardless, the finished product was no disappointment. On the contrary, I will definitely make this recipe again. Check it out:
On a slightly different note, I fear I am falling into a rut on this blog - recipes and poetry. As I sat down to share yet another recipe on this blog, I wavered between apology or just embracing the rut. For some reason, I always want to share food and language with people. Perhaps because in my life they are linked so intimately - body and heart, perhaps? Food may fill the physical emptiness but poetry speaks the language of the emotional and spiritual longings.
So, rather than apologizing, I guess I'll just toss a question out there. What are you hungry for today? Deep down, in your cavernous heart?
2 comments:
Hey Sarah,
Thinking on the last two paragraphs. Well, actually I am thinking on all of it (eggplant parmesan sounds absolutely delish right now!), but specifically the last two. I personally think your poetry says more about you and is more honest than some people's regular posts could ever be. Take me for instance, usually when I post poetry it's because I want to avoid a topic, ignore something, or can't bring myself to say it in conversational English. My poetry is usually a form of cowardice, but I see yours as some of your truest moments. I don't know if you would agree with me, but that's my opinion.
What am I hungry for? An identity and love. I have been feeling very "in-between" and insignificant lately. I keep thinking back to 1984 by Orwell. I feel like I'm Mr. Smith, having all my thoughts and actions dictated for me; searching for real truth, but afraid of what would happen if I were to act differently than they expect.
And the love deal. Hm... as much as I claim I don't want a relationship, deep down there is this annoying little princess complex that is still obsessed with Prince Charming. Or at least the idea of Prince Charming, because goodness knows those are few and far between if they exist at all.
Oh, Lins,
Thanks for response. You encourage me so much, simply by being yourself.
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