I met Mario while he was working as a chef in a rustic Italian restaurant in upstate New York. He wasn't one of those chefs who had graduated from an elegant culinary school. Actually, I never asked him where he had learned to cook. He was Italian, so I assumed he had learned to cook in Italy.
The restaurant was in a dechristened church in a picture-postcard hamlet in New York's Mid-Hudson Valley region. What attracted me to it was that they made excellent pizza in a brick oven and they stocked several VSOP cognacs. I used to go there in the middle of the afternoon when business was slow. After a few visits, Mario and I began to enter into polite conversation. He would sit down and we'd talk about almost anything. Not unexpectedly, the conversations would always turn to food.
Mario was always trying to push his lentil soup on me. It was his specialty and he was proud of it. It was always on the menu, and people came there at lunch time just to have his soup. He would often offer it to me, too, but I would refuse. We almost made a game of it. I'm not an adventurer when it comes to eating Green Things. When I was a kid, I was forced to eat split pea soup. I hated it until one day out in California, somewhere outside of L.A., maybe it was San Bernardino or just a little bit north, I had split pea soup in a restaurant that had the name, fittingly enough, "Anderson's Split Pea Restaurant." I had the pot roast and the soup. It was great. I think that I may still have the recipe in my head, but I never had the incentive to try and make it.
Mario used to keep teasing me. Once, when I insisted that I didn't like green looking foods, he pointed out that it was made out of red lentils. I could tell, instantly, from his eyes that he hadn't wanted to tell me that. He knew, by now, that I was a recipe thief. Finally, I broke down and tried his soup. It was everything he had said it was, and then some. I began returning to the restaurant, more frequently, to have my regular Quatro Stagioni Margueritta pizza and his soup, all the time pestering him for the recipe.
"If I give you the recipe," he would say, "you'll never come back." I think that after the tenth or 15th attempt, at home, I had almost gotten it right, when one day, I walked into the usually empty restaurant and saw Mario sitting very quiet and contemplative at a corner table next to the kitchen. The restaurant was empty, which didn't seem unusual at the time, since I had become used to seeing it that way. I had convinced myself that the restaurant must do very well for dinner. He didn't even notice my coming in. "What's up Mario?" I asked, "I quit," he said.
Startled by the realization that one of my life's routines was abruptly coming to an end, I began to ask him all kinds of questions friends ask each other when there has been a sea change in one of their lives. "The owners, you know, are from the City; and they have decided to change the menu." Stil surprised, but curious to see how much the change would impact on my life, I asked, "How are they changing it?" Mario looked at me and spurted out the words I hate to the core. "Nouvelle Cuisine, and that eliminates me." He said unable to disguise his scorn. "It eliminates me, too," I said. "You know," continued Mario," that I don't cook that way."
Before I said my final farewell to my friend and the restaurant, we talked about the soup. Apparently, I had gotten real close. I had been a bit wrong about how to start it and the amount of cumin to use... but, I was getting there. One or two more tries, I would have gotten it.
"Do you know what nouvelle cuisine is?" He asked, rhetorically, adding."It's nothing more than expensive **** with a French name created by cynical entrepreneurs for the nouveaux riches." He paused for a minute to reflect, then, finished his thought, "That's just my personal opinion, of course."
Nouvelle for the Nouveaux:
Jeffrey goes to culinary school for four years. For the sake of argument it's in Poughkeepsie, One of the things he learns and remembers is that people prefer presentation to substance. Jeff, after four years, learns to be an interior decorator of porcelain plates. "Tres joli. N'est-pas?"
The last year in culinary school, Jeff begins going down to the City on Saturday's for French lessons. By the time he graduates, he not only knows how to make barely cooked pigeon breast in a butter and wine sauce, with a sprig of parsley and a slice of tomate (sic) for which he can charge $90, but he has metamorphosed himself into "Geoffrey." He had, originally, planned to go with "Roland." (He had heard, somewhere, that there had been a romantic character in French history with that name). However, he knew there were already too many "Rolands," working on Columbus Avenue, where, coincidentally, he got his first job, in a very small but trendy chic bistro, "Chez Book Y Worm," known to the trendees, as the "Worm."
Someone, early on, had suggested to the proprietor, that "Y" was the Spanish form of the conjunction for "and," and the proper form in French was "et." "Too late," said the proprietor, "anyway, the "Y' gives it a cute double 'entente' (However inscruitable), and who will ever know?' Good Point! I was about to ask him if he meant "entendre," but thought better of it.
The Worm has 8 small tables; a bar and walls lined with books-once-read purchased by the yard. Now, one step from the garbage bin, they are a chic substitute for wallpaper, lending the cave-sized eatery a much needed ambiance. What is missing in the patrons' skull can be conveniently borrowed from the decor. One can simply absorb knowledge through osmosis. Nice trick, n'est-e pas? .
The clientele are the variety that has more cash than class. Missing are born 'n bred Manhattanittes who would never be caught dead in one of these establishments that caters to 20-somethings from Deluth or its environs who make bushels of bucks in advertising or design.
She and He are sitting at a table with a lighted candle in a nook by the bar. They have already made the rounds of several Second Avenue bars before deciding to come over to Columbus to see what everybody else was doing. This week, they have decided to celebrate her raise from the women's garment company where she is employed as a blouse designer. The company has decided to go with her "BraBlouse" creation. It' a blouse. It's a Bra." Actually, it's a bra with a little material sewn around it, adding a little more cloth so as to make it "Barely legal," as she proudly states.
"It's Shocking," said the boss.
"It's Shocking," said her co-designers."
"But," said the boss, "It has that certain je ne sais quoi."
"But," said her co-designers, "It has that certain je ne sais quoi."
"It's the BraBlouse," said the boss, foregoing Her suggestion of "BraChem(ise)."
"It's the BraBlouse," said her co-designers foregoing her suggestion of ... Oh, well, you get the picture.
The BraBlouse brought her a raise in salary to nearly $100,000, almost the same as her beau who received a raise from his company, the American Generic Tobacco Company, where he is a copywriter. He was the one who came up with the new product idea, and AGT's new motto, for their Asian tobacco markets. "Tiny Cigs for Tiny Kids." Very catchy. She is from Cheyenne, but She tells everyone that She is from San Francisco where She went to design school. He is from Buffalo but tells everyone that he is actually from Rochester.
Their waiter is actually named Roland, but, because of the aforementioned reason, calls himself, Pierre. He wears tight black pants with a black silk shirt tucked in but open to the navel. Around his neck, he sports a thick gold chain on a hairless chest. When he makes broad arm movements, a tattoo of Eros about to shoot an arrow is exposed over his left nipple. Tonight, Pierre is recommending, of all things, "Breast of Dove, au Suisse," and, "from the wine cellar "(They have no wine cellar. They don't even have a cellar. The trendy cheese shop, next door has the cellar), intones Pierre, with the insouciance of someone who writes for wine magazines on the side, "we have a delicious '93 Chablis, imported to the States, just for the Worm." Did I mention that Pierre is from Brooklyn and has never drunk a Chablis. He wouldn't know what it tasted like. He prefers Rum and Coke with a twist of lemon.
She has the pigeon: He opts for the more manly, New York Sirloin, "Very rare, please."
Finally, "Would Madame like to try the house Mousse au Chocolat?" The only madams that Pierre had known before working on Columbus Ave. were madams, that he had met plying their trade in the same Eastside bars in which he had been employed. "Oh," says She, "Is that the same thing as the Moussy thing you have here, on the menu? "Oui, Madame," says Pierre. As tip time gets nearer, Pierre's French begins to blossom. "I'll pass on the pudding," says He. "May I recommend an aperitif?" inquires Pierre.
"What would you suggest, Pierre?" says She, uuulating her Rs. (Between Geoffrey's and Pierre's instruction, her French has gotten pretty good). "We have an excellent VSOP," says Pierre. "Oh," says She, "I was really thinking of having a cognac." Pierre can not stop his eyes from rolling. She settles, however, on Pierre's suggestion of a 25-year-old Extra Special Old Pale.
"None of that sweet girlie stuff for me," says He, "I'll have a double Remy on the rocks."
The bill, $525. Neither flinch, they fight to pay the bill. "Sweetie, I think that you paid last time," says She. "Okay, I guess you're right," says He, finally giving in.
So, what became of Mario? I don't know, but I have his recipe for Red Lentil Soup.
*********************************************************************
All the ingredients and utensils you'll need for Mario's Red Lentil Soup:
- 1 large cooking pot, with lid, capable of holding three quarts of water, (preferably iron, but absolutely not aluminum)
- 1 small frying pan, or skillet
- 1 wooden stirring spoon
Ingredients:
- 1 cup of Red Lentils
- 1 Red Bell Pepper
- 1 Carrot, thinly sliced, (My addition)
- 1 Onion
- Two or Three cloves of smashed Garlic (The more, the merrier)
- 1/2 Teaspoon of freshly ground Black Pepper
- 1 Teaspoon Cumin (It is the éminance grise behind the soup)
- 1 Teaspoon of salt (More or less according to taste and tasting)
- 1 Bay Leaf
- OPTIONAL, 1 minced Hot Pepper, only if you have a taste for things very spicy.
- 3 Teaspoons of Spanish Olive Oil (I Will find out if you use any other)
- Two-and-a-half Quarts of Water
La Préparation (Don't worry, it's spelled correctly in French) Yiiiiiii, this job is getting difficult.
Okay, let's make a deal. From now on, consider every word I spell as being correct even if you are sure that it's not. Continue (Spelt the same in English as in French, but here, please pronounce it with a French accent to humor me. Merci.).
-Wash the Red Lentils, thoroughly. Rinse them in cold water three or four times. Set aside.
-Slice and chop up the onions and Red Bell Pepper. Smash the Garlic
-Start boiling the water.
-In the skillet, sauté (faire sauter) the onions, Red Pepper, Sliced Carrots and Garlic in the (Spanish) Olive Oil.
-As the Onions begin to become translucent, add the Salt, Black Pepper and Cumin, and continue stirring on a low flame. When the Onions appear as if that they would start to burn, remove and set aside.
-When the water begins to boil, throw in the Red Lentils, and stir. Lower the flame and continue to stir. If you haven't washed off the excess starch, the water may start to froth. Too late, just lower the flame a little more and continue to stir. If the froth begins to become a nuisance, skim off some of it.
-Continue stirring the Red Lentils (approximately 20 to 30 minutes) until they pop (split) and they turn Green (actually a Yellowish Green; they will get Greener later).
-Then, throw in the stuff that you sautéed and put aside (Onions, Pepper , etc.) and STIR.
-Throw in the Bay Leaf and STIR-STIR, STIr, STir, Stir, stir, Lower the flame, Cover and Simmer over a low flame.
-Stir every 20 minutes, until the soup becomes thick and you've lost almost half of your water. (About Two-and-a-half hours). If the soup is still thin, uncover and bring to a low boil and stir as if you know that the bottom will burn if you don't.
On the side, you can have some fresh corn, (stripped off the cob) served in a small bowl.
Serve with sliced French or Italian bread (with a ripe Brie or Camembert, if that's your pleasure).
A fine Margaux would be perfect unless that's problematic, otherwise, a Coke with a slice of lemon would be my choice. Water is good, too.
Bon Appetit!
From Budapest
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Perfect Marriage: Eggplant Parmigiana
An Excellent Vegetarian Entree for the Pythagorean and Like-Minded People
The Nightshade Family (Solanaceae) announces the Wedding of two of its members, distant cousins. The Bride, S. Lycopersicon Esculentum, who hails from South America, wears a Beautiful Red Wedding gown which was the reason why she was cultivated in European gardens-- not to be eaten-- but, for the color of her fruit. The fear was that, like her beautiful cousin, Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) whose roots and leaves yield Atropine, is a deadly poison. (However, very good for counteracting the effects of nerve gas poisoning). The effects of Belladonna were well known to Europeans during the middle ages. Cunning Folk, i.e. Witches, (The Early Internists) prescribed Atropine for gastric distress (spasms). On the other hand, Lucrezia Borgia, the Duchess of Ferrara and daughter of Rodrigo Lanzol y Borja (very proper Spanish Visigothic name) who became Pope Alexander VI, used it for its dilative action on the pupils of her eyes.
Lucrezia used to put drops of atropine onto her eyes to dilate the pupils in the belief that men thought that dilated pupils on a woman made them more beautiful, hence, the name Belladonna. You know, she was right. Recent studies have proven that hypothesis. When men were shown two seemingly identical photographs of the same woman, although, unbeknownst to them, the pupils of the woman in one of the photos had been clinically dilated, the men all chose the photo of the woman with her pupils dilated. The men in the study were not given enough time to examine the photos minutely. They all thought they were looking at the same photo. (If you need to prove this point, somewhere buried beneath tons of paper and books, I still have that study.)
The English call the Bride, Tomato; I prefer Tomate, from the Spanish/S.A. Indian, Nahuatl Tomatl. The French, also, call her Tomate.
The Groom, S. Solanum Melongena, hails from Southern Asia. The rotund and pompous groom, resplendent in his dark purple tux wears a green tie around his neck. The French call him Aubergine; the English, Guinea Squash. In America, he is called Eggplant.
One of the groom's closest cousins, S. Solanum Tuberosum, comes from the Americas. The Spanish call him Papa from the Taino (Puerto Rican Indian) Batata. The French call him Pomme de Terre (Ground Apple): the English, Potato (sorry, no "E" except in the plural). Although on very good terms with the rest of the family, S. Tuberosum was not invited to this wedding, neither were other cousins: Bell Pepper, Tobacco Sweet Potato, Petunia and especially not S. Datura Stramonium, known in America as Jimson Weed (She is too psychedelic).
The Wedding will be held in Parma, Italy, the home of the Bride's best friend and maid of honor, Parmi A. Giana. The Groom's best man will be the plump, ever saltless, Mozza Rella.
THE WEDDING
(Don't be afraid to go to the extreme. It will be a long ceremony)
"It is an Ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three,
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am the next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st thou hear the merry din?'"
The Bride and Groom: (Already invited)
-6 to 8 plump stewed or canned Italian tomatoes (a pound to a pound and a half)
-2 plump and firm Eggplants
The Guests:
-1 Green Italian Bell Pepper (Here (in Budapest), they are called Kalifornia Paprika, Go figure?)
-1 large onion
-2 tablespoons of Capers (at least)
-10 or more (lots) of Spanish pitted olives (Slice them up)
-I pound of Mozzarella (diced)
-5 to 6 ounces of grated parmesan (a lot)
-1 ˝ cups of a fine bodied Bordeaux (Stay away from Italian wine: too young too fruity. Anyway, while you are cooking, you should be tasting the French wine, while listening to Italian music: Puccini or Verdi are suggested as essential ingredients. I prefer a Margaux to a Médoc, but I eschew St. Emilion: for the same reason as the Italian...too sharp too fruity.
-1 to 2 cups of tomato sauce
-1 cup of water (you may very well have to add more, later)
-2 tablespoons Spanish Extra Virgin Olive Oil for cooking (Biased? You bet!)
-ALSO, 1 to 2 cups of olive oil for sautéing the eggplant (Very Important)
-2 tablespoons of Tarragon vinegar, or better, 2 tablespoons of freshly squeezed Lemon Juice.
-3 or 4 cups of Bread Crumbs. (I make my own from stale bread with my blender)
-2 to 3 eggs
The Ring Bearers:
-A Minimum of at least 6 cloves of fresh Garlic (Absolutely no powdered garlic. It's all from China and it has more MSG in it than Garlic.)
-1 tablespoon of salt (Start with less, if you prefer, but keep tasting as you go. Add or subtract, depending on taste and blood pressure. If salt brings up the blood pressure, garlic will bring it down.)
The Flower Girls:
-2 tablespoons of oregano (Tastes great and breaks down gas)
-2 tablespoons of Basil or a lot more. Basil is purported to be an aphrodisiac. (I think it's true).
-1/2 teaspoon freshly ground Black Pepper. (Take it easy with this one)
-1 Bay leaf
-Lots of dried Parsley. (We won't need it until we begin to bake)
The Vehicles For The Wedding Party:
-1 Cast Iron 4-quart Pot with cover (I think they are called Dutch Ovens. Don't ask me why).
-1 10" x 13" Baking Pan. I prefer Heavy Metal, but Pyrex, heat resistant enamel are all good.
-1 or two large skillets or cast iron frying pans
We are ready!
THE CEREMONY
Heat the pot for a few minutes over a moderate fire, add a few tablespoons of olive oil (Spanish). When the oil is hot but not smoking, add the Green Pepper which you have sliced longitudinally (like new moons) then cut those slices in half and throw into the pot. (Time to put on the opera). Slice and dice the Onion. Add to the pot. (Don't dice into too little pieces, you will want to recognize them as onion when you are finished. ) Smash, don't dice the Garlic. Add to the pot. Stir the Green Pepper, Onions and Garlic occasionally. Don't let the Onions burn. You have to keep and eye on the pot: stir, look, etc. until the Onions become almost translucent.
Meanwhile open the wine. Go ahead, take a Sip.
Open the can(s) of tomato sauce and the stewed tomatoes. Take another Sip.
Onions ready? Pour in the tomato sauce. Stir and wait until it gets hot. Stir, stir, stir...
Now it's time to add the tomatoes, Stir, and with a kitchen knife, cut up the tomatoes (not too small). Stir. Turn up the heat until it begins to bubble. Add the Wine, and take a Sip. Stir, stir, until it looks like it is getting hot. Then, add the Salt, Black Pepper, Oregano, Basil, Bay Leaf, Capers and Olives. Stir. Add the Tarragon Vinegar or Fresh Lemon Juice and a tablespoon or two of Spanish Olive Oil. Stir. Take a Sip. When it starts to boil, add the Water. The pot should be almost full. Stir. Wait until it starts to boil again, then lower the flame and bring to a slow boil for about 30 minutes stirring and Sipping. (Aren't you glad that you didn't pour all that fine wine into the pot?) At the end of 30 minutes, lower the flame (low but not the lowest) and cover.
Cook for three hour, stirring every 20 to 30 minutes. Have a Sip and prepare the Eggplant. Peel and slice the Eggplant longitudinally (about a quarter inch in thickness). Place all the slices in a large pot with a lot of salted water to take out the acid. The water will turn black. You can change the water two or three times. Let them soak that way for two hours.
Pour out a glass of the wine, check the bottle: congratulate yourself for having purchased two bottles, sit back and relax. Read your email.
When the opera is almost finished, you should be feeling pretty darn good... about your effort, of course. If it is a young wine, you can open the second bottle to breath. Re-cork it and place it in the bottom of the frig. (It breathed enough Oxygen.) Every once in a while uncork it and re-cork it. Room temperature in a castle is found somewhere on the bottom shelf of the door to your frig.
Prepare your bread crumbs. Okay, I know that in the States you can buy "unseasoned" bread crumbs in the Super Market. It's quite easy to manufacture your own. Your call. Lay off the wine for a while.
-Beat the eggs well.
-Sprinkle a lot of bread crumbs on a large platter.
-Drain the Eggplants.
-Heat up the Frying Pans. Pour in a half a cup of Spanish Olive Oil in each and bring the fire to a medium flame.
-One by one, dip the eggplant slices into the egg mixture and then place them on the bread crumbs. Cover both sides, then place in the Frying Pan(s). Watch them and the oil level carefully. The oil tends to disappear pretty quickly, and you will have to add more. Don't be afraid to turn them over as much as you like. The result should be golden brown slices of breaded Eggplant slices. Remove and place on paper towel to soak, before placing them on another plate. The whole process should take an hour. A cup of tea would be nice right about now. I prefer Coke with a slice of lemon.
-Turn the oven on and preheat to 345 degrees.
Aren't you happy it's Saturday or Sunday and you have nothing better to do?
-The sauce should be thick but not too thick Thin is no good.
-Pour three or four ladles full of sauce into the bottom of the Baking Pan. Lay the Eggplant slices over the sauce. Fill the bottom of the pan, then, pour more sauce over the top of the slices. Make a second layer and cover with sauce. You should have enough sauce and slices for three layers.
-When everything is in the pan and looks real pretty, start dotting the top with pieces of Mozzarella. I like to see a lot on top. Your call, once again.
-Then, sprinkle copious amounts of Parmesan cheese all over the top. Fill up the spaces between the Mozzarella pieces. It should look almost white.
-Almost ready... Sprinkle dry Parsley over the top. Make it look Christmasy (Sic). You can add some more Basil on the top, too. But, remember what I told you about Basil.
Kiss it, and place it in the oven for 45 minutes. Check it regularly. The cheese can be allowed to brown slightly, but it must never burn.
-Boil the water. Smash two or three cloves of Garlic. Cook the Spaghetti to the texture which you prefer, I like a little al dente. Drain, smother it in Pure Extra Virgin Italian or Spanish Olive Oil. Add the smashed Garlic, a little Fresh Ground Black Pepper and salt. Place in the serving dish. Take the second bottle of wine out of the frig and place it on the table (I'm assuming that there is none of the first bottle remaining).
-Times up (not the NYT), take the Beautiful looking, Mouth watering and Wonderful smelling Eggplant Parmigiana out of the Oven and serve.
--I didn't mention it before, because I often don't have a salad with this meal, because it's almost all vegetable, anyway. But a mixed green salad goes well with this meal: Romaine lettuce, Spinach and kale (Absolutely no tomato and no cucumber. There already is enough tomato in the entree and the combination of Eggplant and cucumber can produce a powerful effect on the GI tract which one would be wise to avoid.)
Szia,
From Budapest
The Nightshade Family (Solanaceae) announces the Wedding of two of its members, distant cousins. The Bride, S. Lycopersicon Esculentum, who hails from South America, wears a Beautiful Red Wedding gown which was the reason why she was cultivated in European gardens-- not to be eaten-- but, for the color of her fruit. The fear was that, like her beautiful cousin, Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) whose roots and leaves yield Atropine, is a deadly poison. (However, very good for counteracting the effects of nerve gas poisoning). The effects of Belladonna were well known to Europeans during the middle ages. Cunning Folk, i.e. Witches, (The Early Internists) prescribed Atropine for gastric distress (spasms). On the other hand, Lucrezia Borgia, the Duchess of Ferrara and daughter of Rodrigo Lanzol y Borja (very proper Spanish Visigothic name) who became Pope Alexander VI, used it for its dilative action on the pupils of her eyes.
Lucrezia used to put drops of atropine onto her eyes to dilate the pupils in the belief that men thought that dilated pupils on a woman made them more beautiful, hence, the name Belladonna. You know, she was right. Recent studies have proven that hypothesis. When men were shown two seemingly identical photographs of the same woman, although, unbeknownst to them, the pupils of the woman in one of the photos had been clinically dilated, the men all chose the photo of the woman with her pupils dilated. The men in the study were not given enough time to examine the photos minutely. They all thought they were looking at the same photo. (If you need to prove this point, somewhere buried beneath tons of paper and books, I still have that study.)
The English call the Bride, Tomato; I prefer Tomate, from the Spanish/S.A. Indian, Nahuatl Tomatl. The French, also, call her Tomate.
The Groom, S. Solanum Melongena, hails from Southern Asia. The rotund and pompous groom, resplendent in his dark purple tux wears a green tie around his neck. The French call him Aubergine; the English, Guinea Squash. In America, he is called Eggplant.
One of the groom's closest cousins, S. Solanum Tuberosum, comes from the Americas. The Spanish call him Papa from the Taino (Puerto Rican Indian) Batata. The French call him Pomme de Terre (Ground Apple): the English, Potato (sorry, no "E" except in the plural). Although on very good terms with the rest of the family, S. Tuberosum was not invited to this wedding, neither were other cousins: Bell Pepper, Tobacco Sweet Potato, Petunia and especially not S. Datura Stramonium, known in America as Jimson Weed (She is too psychedelic).
The Wedding will be held in Parma, Italy, the home of the Bride's best friend and maid of honor, Parmi A. Giana. The Groom's best man will be the plump, ever saltless, Mozza Rella.
THE WEDDING
(Don't be afraid to go to the extreme. It will be a long ceremony)
"It is an Ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three,
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am the next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st thou hear the merry din?'"
The Bride and Groom: (Already invited)
-6 to 8 plump stewed or canned Italian tomatoes (a pound to a pound and a half)
-2 plump and firm Eggplants
The Guests:
-1 Green Italian Bell Pepper (Here (in Budapest), they are called Kalifornia Paprika, Go figure?)
-1 large onion
-2 tablespoons of Capers (at least)
-10 or more (lots) of Spanish pitted olives (Slice them up)
-I pound of Mozzarella (diced)
-5 to 6 ounces of grated parmesan (a lot)
-1 ˝ cups of a fine bodied Bordeaux (Stay away from Italian wine: too young too fruity. Anyway, while you are cooking, you should be tasting the French wine, while listening to Italian music: Puccini or Verdi are suggested as essential ingredients. I prefer a Margaux to a Médoc, but I eschew St. Emilion: for the same reason as the Italian...too sharp too fruity.
-1 to 2 cups of tomato sauce
-1 cup of water (you may very well have to add more, later)
-2 tablespoons Spanish Extra Virgin Olive Oil for cooking (Biased? You bet!)
-ALSO, 1 to 2 cups of olive oil for sautéing the eggplant (Very Important)
-2 tablespoons of Tarragon vinegar, or better, 2 tablespoons of freshly squeezed Lemon Juice.
-3 or 4 cups of Bread Crumbs. (I make my own from stale bread with my blender)
-2 to 3 eggs
The Ring Bearers:
-A Minimum of at least 6 cloves of fresh Garlic (Absolutely no powdered garlic. It's all from China and it has more MSG in it than Garlic.)
-1 tablespoon of salt (Start with less, if you prefer, but keep tasting as you go. Add or subtract, depending on taste and blood pressure. If salt brings up the blood pressure, garlic will bring it down.)
The Flower Girls:
-2 tablespoons of oregano (Tastes great and breaks down gas)
-2 tablespoons of Basil or a lot more. Basil is purported to be an aphrodisiac. (I think it's true).
-1/2 teaspoon freshly ground Black Pepper. (Take it easy with this one)
-1 Bay leaf
-Lots of dried Parsley. (We won't need it until we begin to bake)
The Vehicles For The Wedding Party:
-1 Cast Iron 4-quart Pot with cover (I think they are called Dutch Ovens. Don't ask me why).
-1 10" x 13" Baking Pan. I prefer Heavy Metal, but Pyrex, heat resistant enamel are all good.
-1 or two large skillets or cast iron frying pans
We are ready!
THE CEREMONY
Heat the pot for a few minutes over a moderate fire, add a few tablespoons of olive oil (Spanish). When the oil is hot but not smoking, add the Green Pepper which you have sliced longitudinally (like new moons) then cut those slices in half and throw into the pot. (Time to put on the opera). Slice and dice the Onion. Add to the pot. (Don't dice into too little pieces, you will want to recognize them as onion when you are finished. ) Smash, don't dice the Garlic. Add to the pot. Stir the Green Pepper, Onions and Garlic occasionally. Don't let the Onions burn. You have to keep and eye on the pot: stir, look, etc. until the Onions become almost translucent.
Meanwhile open the wine. Go ahead, take a Sip.
Open the can(s) of tomato sauce and the stewed tomatoes. Take another Sip.
Onions ready? Pour in the tomato sauce. Stir and wait until it gets hot. Stir, stir, stir...
Now it's time to add the tomatoes, Stir, and with a kitchen knife, cut up the tomatoes (not too small). Stir. Turn up the heat until it begins to bubble. Add the Wine, and take a Sip. Stir, stir, until it looks like it is getting hot. Then, add the Salt, Black Pepper, Oregano, Basil, Bay Leaf, Capers and Olives. Stir. Add the Tarragon Vinegar or Fresh Lemon Juice and a tablespoon or two of Spanish Olive Oil. Stir. Take a Sip. When it starts to boil, add the Water. The pot should be almost full. Stir. Wait until it starts to boil again, then lower the flame and bring to a slow boil for about 30 minutes stirring and Sipping. (Aren't you glad that you didn't pour all that fine wine into the pot?) At the end of 30 minutes, lower the flame (low but not the lowest) and cover.
Cook for three hour, stirring every 20 to 30 minutes. Have a Sip and prepare the Eggplant. Peel and slice the Eggplant longitudinally (about a quarter inch in thickness). Place all the slices in a large pot with a lot of salted water to take out the acid. The water will turn black. You can change the water two or three times. Let them soak that way for two hours.
Pour out a glass of the wine, check the bottle: congratulate yourself for having purchased two bottles, sit back and relax. Read your email.
When the opera is almost finished, you should be feeling pretty darn good... about your effort, of course. If it is a young wine, you can open the second bottle to breath. Re-cork it and place it in the bottom of the frig. (It breathed enough Oxygen.) Every once in a while uncork it and re-cork it. Room temperature in a castle is found somewhere on the bottom shelf of the door to your frig.
Prepare your bread crumbs. Okay, I know that in the States you can buy "unseasoned" bread crumbs in the Super Market. It's quite easy to manufacture your own. Your call. Lay off the wine for a while.
-Beat the eggs well.
-Sprinkle a lot of bread crumbs on a large platter.
-Drain the Eggplants.
-Heat up the Frying Pans. Pour in a half a cup of Spanish Olive Oil in each and bring the fire to a medium flame.
-One by one, dip the eggplant slices into the egg mixture and then place them on the bread crumbs. Cover both sides, then place in the Frying Pan(s). Watch them and the oil level carefully. The oil tends to disappear pretty quickly, and you will have to add more. Don't be afraid to turn them over as much as you like. The result should be golden brown slices of breaded Eggplant slices. Remove and place on paper towel to soak, before placing them on another plate. The whole process should take an hour. A cup of tea would be nice right about now. I prefer Coke with a slice of lemon.
-Turn the oven on and preheat to 345 degrees.
Aren't you happy it's Saturday or Sunday and you have nothing better to do?
-The sauce should be thick but not too thick Thin is no good.
-Pour three or four ladles full of sauce into the bottom of the Baking Pan. Lay the Eggplant slices over the sauce. Fill the bottom of the pan, then, pour more sauce over the top of the slices. Make a second layer and cover with sauce. You should have enough sauce and slices for three layers.
-When everything is in the pan and looks real pretty, start dotting the top with pieces of Mozzarella. I like to see a lot on top. Your call, once again.
-Then, sprinkle copious amounts of Parmesan cheese all over the top. Fill up the spaces between the Mozzarella pieces. It should look almost white.
-Almost ready... Sprinkle dry Parsley over the top. Make it look Christmasy (Sic). You can add some more Basil on the top, too. But, remember what I told you about Basil.
Kiss it, and place it in the oven for 45 minutes. Check it regularly. The cheese can be allowed to brown slightly, but it must never burn.
-Boil the water. Smash two or three cloves of Garlic. Cook the Spaghetti to the texture which you prefer, I like a little al dente. Drain, smother it in Pure Extra Virgin Italian or Spanish Olive Oil. Add the smashed Garlic, a little Fresh Ground Black Pepper and salt. Place in the serving dish. Take the second bottle of wine out of the frig and place it on the table (I'm assuming that there is none of the first bottle remaining).
-Times up (not the NYT), take the Beautiful looking, Mouth watering and Wonderful smelling Eggplant Parmigiana out of the Oven and serve.
--I didn't mention it before, because I often don't have a salad with this meal, because it's almost all vegetable, anyway. But a mixed green salad goes well with this meal: Romaine lettuce, Spinach and kale (Absolutely no tomato and no cucumber. There already is enough tomato in the entree and the combination of Eggplant and cucumber can produce a powerful effect on the GI tract which one would be wise to avoid.)
Szia,
From Budapest
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