Incongruity Deluxe

The eggplant is refined lady in waiting corseted in lustrous satin silk and a high starched collar. To my admiring eyes, everything about her hints of decadence- her form, color and feel. Solanum melongena has the coloring of royalty that ranges from deep midnight purple to bone china white. The form of the eggplant is pleasing, both elongated and voluptuous, full bottomed and heavy. Even in its more slender guise, one end is elegantly tapered while the other gently rounded, maintaining respectful regal bearing. One can detect the curve of a shoulder, the small of a back, the tuck of an underside all contained within supple skin burnished and taut. This ovoid fruit of mystery feels at home in my palm, firm yet slightly yielding. At the same time, there is something completely foreign and unfamiliar about this fruit-vegetable. For one thing while it embodies a sensuality that I appreciate, its similarity to my own corporeal flesh rattles my nerves a bit. It is after all a member of the plant kingdom. Second, while eggplants stacked tongue and groove into an exotic baroque pyramid at the grocery store is visually stunning; the pendulous Elvira like fruit heavily clustered on the shrub shocks me with its aggressive dark flamboyance. And there is nothing about its richly anointed externals that prepares one for aubergine’s dry pithy interior which more closely resembles high performance orthopedic foam than any kind of appetizing food stuff. Equally off putting is the immediate somber discoloration that occurs once cutting commences. How can something so gloriously decorated on the outside be shirked so miserably within? Surely the eggplant is the very face of incongruity steeped in its own mystique.

I think it is a question of commitment. Not necessarily in the eating but certainly in the preparation of the eggplant. Are you willing to go the distance to unravel the deliciousness found deep within this formidable food? In order to transform its bitter unpleasant dry chew to one that is silky rich and ineffable, one needs a good smattering of patience inspired on by the memory of a good eggplant dish. Eggplant parmesan, moussaka, and Thai eggplant in garlic sauce have been my personal guideposts lighting the way to culinary enchantment. For years I avoided cooking “the stuff” because preparation seemed too laborious, one actually needs to tend to it first before using within a dish. It is not an ingredient to hastily chop and throw into a fry pan. Melenzana needs to be coaxed and pampered into relaxing a little, in order for its subtly sweet smokiness to come to the fore. While fried of course is excellent; I prefer roasting, broiling and braising. Something magical happens to the flesh when it soaks up heat, oil, or a spice infused liquid. It melts and melds into a complex taste that is hard to pinpoint. It tastes bronzed and well experienced, has a hint of bitterness with an almost cinnamon end. I really strive to cook the eggplant so that the skin thins to a delicately caramelized burnt chew. This adds another patina to an already gloriously hued taste. It is important to note that the spongy interior is notorious for quaffing up as much oil as a chef allows. Therefore it is essential to keep a sharp eye on things because a lot of absorption can happen quickly. It is imperative that the oil be fresh and of the highest quality since its flavor lends so heavily in the mix.

Buffalo Eggplant Deluxe in the way of Zorba the Greek
The dish of the day was inspired by Greek-Style Lamb and Eggplant Lasagne and Pastitsio. A few essentials like ground lamb could not be found at the local grocery store so buffalo made a quick stand in. Shredded zucchini was still abounding within my refrigerator from 2 posts ago- that made a courtesy appearance, as did some leftover rice. The result was a hearty hodgepodge of disparate parts that artfully came together. I think Zorba would have approved. I definitely did.

INGREDIENTS:
2 lbs eggplant
olive oil

For meat sauce
2 cups chopped onions
2 cups shredded zucchini
3 garlic cloves minced
olive oil to coat pan
1 lb ground buffalo
28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes
2 Tblsp tomato paste
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground allspice
salt and pepper to taste

For bechamel sauce
1/2 stick unsalted butter
5 Tbsp flour
4 cup 2% milk
1 egg beaten

1 cup crumbled feta
About 2 cups of cooked rice

DIRECTIONS: Essentially the components were all made separately over 2 days, to be put together on a third day. Cut the eggplant into 1/3 inch slices and brush both sides with oil. Bake in 350 degree oven until golden brown and set aside when done. For the meat sauce, saute the onions, zucchini and garlic in oil until it just begins to color. Add buffalo and break up chunks, cook until no longer pink. Add salt and pepper, cinnamon, allspice, and both tomatoes. Cook uncovered for about 30 minutes until sauce is thickened and flavors come together. Cool and set aside. For the bechamel, melt butter in a heavy saucepan over low-medium heat. Whisk in flour and cook the roux for about 3 minutes, all the while mixing. Whisk in milk in a stream and add the salt and pepper to taste. Continue mixing until sauce thickens. This should take about 5 minutes at an easy simmer. Whisk in egg and keep mixing for an additional minute. Cool and put aside. On the day of baking, preheat the oven to 375 degrees. I put about 1/3 of the bechamel sauce in the bottom of a 13 X 9 X 2 inch baking dish. I placed about 1/2 of the eggplant on top, covered it with a sprinkle of feta and then a layer of meat sauce and then a layer of rice. I had enough ingredients to repeat: bechamel, eggplant, feta, meatsauce, rice with a final layer of bechamel on the top. Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil and bake 10 minutes more and then broil a minute or two until golden if desired. Let it stand a few minutes before serving. The final note I would add is that the rice was more substantial than the lasagne noodles I have used in the past. Next time I am inclined to forgo the starch and add a layer of roasted zucchini/mushroom instead. I would also add about a teaspoon of oregano to the sauce. Changes aside, the eggplant and bechamel combo is praiseworthy both elevating the other. Enjoy with some good company.

Betwixt Me and You

I go in dutifully every 3-4 months to the local hospital to get my blood drawn. It is always a surprise in contrast from the bustling antiseptic vinyl tiled health institutions that I was used to in SF. Upon entering this 20 bed hospital, one is immediately embraced by the waiting room flanked with plaid overstuffed chairs, sofas and rocking chairs replete with afghans and well used pillows. Memorial’s hominess practically begs a visitor to kick back and stay awhile, so I do. Visits have now become ready excuse to wind my way into the cozy slip of a gift shop stuffed to the gill with various sundries. It is where Gloria stands her post all radiance in platinum silver curls, Kelly green smock, broad fuchsia smile behind a narrow counter bejeweled with candy bars, chewing gums and breath mints. She means business; she is there to sell what needs to be bought. Gloria catcalls out to passersby, peddling her wares with the open friendliness of the grandmother-next-door mixed with the no nonsense gusto of a ballpark vendor. Lured in by her charm, she now has become a special point of brightness in my world. And I am a bull- one possessing a modicum of grace. My wheelchair is some 350 odd lbs. of high tech balletic ingenuity. While I perch ever so lightly upon my pleather pedestal, my part woman-part machine self totals an approximate whopping 460 lbs. This is considerable mass to maneuver within a space that is little more than a 7 by 3 foot aisle booby trapped with every conceivable breakable object available. I am one of those deep sea submersibles, thinking-sensing proboscis, at once nimble yet lumbering probing the canyon floors. Similarly every inch of these shelves I take in tasting and examining pushing further past: pastel knit newborn caps, handmade wooden puzzles, Raku tea sets upon bamboo trays, beaded eyeglass holders and sunflower windsocks. Intermixed with this slow perusal is light conversation with Gloria over the new porcelain ornaments, talk about the weather, rounds of golf to be learned and of course anticipated visits from grandchildren. The whole dance of delight and every day takes about 10 minutes and though time is short and our talk at the surface, I plumb her depths through the look in her smiling eyes. We are sequestered from the world by the immediate intimacy formed from close quarters and the delicate negotiation of the space betwixt. Now that I have learned that 100% of every sale goes directly to support the patients in the hospital and adjacent nursing home, it has become my civic duty to buy a Twix bar or two. Coupled with the refreshment of a few shared moments with one delightful lady, I get the synergistic cookie crunch-caramel chew of my decade favorite candy bar to double my pleasure. While I used to indiscriminately purchase this chocolate sweet whenever I got the craving, no longer. Now it is inexplicably tied to this ritualistic outing, homage to a special kind of ordinary- a very special treat.

Too Much Brownie Face

If you were to look at my face around mid-week, you might find an expression that could make you rethink ever indulging in “too much” of anything ever again. It is the visage of surfeit, an after-the-act brought back to the ground, humbled countenance of overdoing. Maybe the caffeine made me do it. I was feeling wild and reckless as of last posting. Adrenaline coursing through my veins looking for some action and around Sunday, I found the perfect complimentary companion in the form of dark chocolate loveliness. I was warned of the true lethal nature of the seemingly harmless flourless chocolate torte. But I balked at all such admonitions. “Child’s play” I remarked to myself as I hastily ate one then two wedges of darkness. Both pieces were dressed up with a ruffle flourish of Redi-Whip which turned out to be an actual assistant in distributing semi sweet’s earthy flavor. I was silenced then euphoric. I mumbled something about writing poetry but my mind jammed up and sweet feelings took over rendering me quite useless. Throughout the night my mind returned to this cake. As is customary, I plan out options for my next meal. The sublime chocolate slice was part of the picture, but as the meal would be breakfast I decided it should be Part II of a two part act. Act I was a ham and tomato sandwich fully swabbed with mayonnaise. No secret sauce, just full on light as a whip mayo. Crunchy pickle and a scattering of chips enlivened and completed the whole plate for a very satisfying base and prelude for Part II- the main event, chocolate deliverance. The cake was portioned out into 4 parts to be consumed by myself and one other that day and the next. The slices were this side of modest, so I knew I would need to focus, all attention on the eating and little else. Once again I sank into a silent reverie enjoying bite after bite. Luckily I was with someone who more or less understood where I was coming from and the rest of the day quickly passed until dinner. While most nights I am typically hungry, that evening a meal was downright unnecessary. I ate anyways and age made me worse for the wear. The next day I began with a clean slate only to find myself allowing everything to revolve around this ultra rich focal point once again. As the hours wore on, I began to notice how chocolate wedge had shoe horned its way into my life, taking my heart and now my dinner hostage. I began to sag under the weight of too much cacao and cream, all reasonable thought of food blotted out. The singular ingredients in my refrigerator which needed attention in order to be shaped and redefined into an actual meal went unnoticed. My life eclipsed under the shadow of too much.

But the passage of time is an ever shifting continuum and to be sure soon enough the horn of plenty will deplete. This brings me to today and my crisper drawer full of zucchini, a small bumper crop of summer’s bounty and provocation for my next cooking showdown. Suddenly the gravity of too much chocolate is lifted by the humor of too much squash. I envision home gardeners anonymously abandoning bushels of the green stuff on sidewalk curbs, empty park benches, the steps of the YMCA. And I set to work with the appreciation that comes with the good fortune of abundance and just enough enthusiasm to use it all up. For this week we double the pleasure with chocolate zucchini cake.

Chocolate Zucchini Cake adapted from Bon Appétit
Serves 12

This is a moist, not too sweet, go-down-easy kind of cake. Even after a few days of intense chocolate eating, the cocoa in this is just right. Bon Appétit included about a cup of chocolate chips and walnuts which I omitted because my tank was on full. If I were to make this again soon I would definitely include them.

Ingredients:
2 1/4 cups flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 3/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 1/2cups grated unpeeled zucchini

Directions: Preheat oven to 325°F. Butter and flour a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan. Sift flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt in a medium bowl. Beat sugar, butter and oil in a large bowl until well blended. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Mix in vanilla extract. Gently incorporate dry ingredients alternately with buttermilk in 3 additions each. Be sure to scrape the bowl from time to time. Lastly mix in grated zucchini, pour into pan and bake for about 50 minutes until done in center, cool then eat.

Granita di Caffe con Panna in a Motor Sidecar

The road to my heart is paved with dark aromatic coffee beans, specifically Peet’s Major Dickason’s blend. This week, I wander the contours of the deeply grooved seed tracing the scent of Colombia, Ethiopia and Sulawesi. Such a simple form belies the length of patience and endurance required to grow and harvest rich tasting Coffea Arabica, not to mention the literal miles traveled from tree to mug. Whether one imbibes or not, few can resist coffee’s alluring earthy toasted nose that hints of far away places and mysteries untold. Sniffing was my preferred method of consumption until recently when I unexpectedly received a stuffed black shiny bag in the mail from a friend. Suddenly I had the resources to brew gallons of highly charged drink at my fingertips- a slightly dizzying thought for a non-regular coffee consumer. I plunged in ready to embrace a beverage that I nonetheless enjoy. My first cup I drank with little fanfare. Being somewhat clumsy and unskilled, we (H & I) ended up with a liquid that was both thin and tepid. The warm pleasing taste was still enough for me to hearken back to a time when I drank cappuccino in an Italian bar as a student. It was an almost daily morning ritual that survived for as long as I was abroad. When in Rome one must do as the Romans do. Back in NY however, we sink or swim and the temporary habit quickly receded into the background to become a sophisticated memory usurped by cans of supercharged Mountain Dew and scores of Kit Kat. It is exactly because I overused sugar and caffeine so non-judiciously to prop up and enliven my sorry-of-a-corpse self, that I generally swore off the stuff as soon as I graduated to sleep and sensible self care. Now here I am alone with my pile of beans and the spirit of Juan Valdez, thousands of miles away from school. So I reach for a cup and then another and another…

I feel a bit guilty as I have times before when hungering after something I think unwise to consume. It has been my curse to learn just enough to clutter my mind with “what is good”. Many an internal argument has broken out over the vices and virtues of eating something truly decadent I crave. Therefore I have attempted to silence all opinionated body parts by eating what I want in moderation and throwing in some extra kale, just in case. I think about my acupuncturist who years ago used the term “instinct injured” to describe most of us in relationship to our own terra firma. Hunger and cravings can appear misleading in signaling an authentic need. We feel betrayed when our “needs” point us towards that box of shiny oil slicked donuts while health officials are warning us away from saturated fats. Do most of us follow our desires down to its root to discover the true origin? Tired of distrusting the self, I decided to go along with my recent coffee guzzling ways to see where my body would lead.

It will be no surprise when I report that I have felt enlivened by the caffeine. However unlike when people drink caffeine to oppose their physical fatigue, I have found that it seems to match the internal energetic place that I feel. It is a description that is in the process of becoming. And like a desiccated piece of sea matter, I feel great surging excitement in being quenched by this aqua vita. I have come to experience coffee drinking as a very kinetic ride. I can feel my blood vessels constricting, my heart pounding, my tissue buzzing. I get a subtle hum of movement that has a similar exhilaration that one gets from running breathlessly towards the ocean spray. I am alive and caught on fire with memories of movement fast and furious. I am a child pedaling my orange ten speed bike home before night fall comes to swallow me up. I am bombing down a snow packed mountain, knees and hips moving in tandem, shock absorbers for the impact of each perfectly carved mogul. I am one with my cello, giant reverberating heart, swaying and sculpting sound as it floats out and up through the air. I traipse delicately upon the uneven matt floor of a cathedral like redwood forest hand in hand with silence. All this and every variation and turn of movement fast and slow, syncopated and disjointed, attached to purpose or pleasure- somehow compiled and distilled into one very potent liquid dream. That has been the allure of coffee for me. And I can hardly wait to fly down the road of forever next.

Granita di Caffe con Panna is the perfect way to get your adrenaline up on a hot day such as the record breaking one's we have been experiencing all over the country and have your dessert too. Quite simply brew some good quality strong (as in muscle flexing strong) coffee. I would figure about 2 cups more or less per person, it is nice to have extra. Dissolve a bit of sugar (approx.1 Tblsp per cup) into the brew but keep in mind that when frozen, one will not perceive sweet to be quite as sweet as unfrozen. When cooled pour granita mixture into a shallow pyrex pan or in ice cube trays and place in freezer. If using a pan, one is committed to agitating the newly formed ice crystals every 40 minutes or so. Do so until what remains is a pretty pile of ice shavings. If using ice cube trays, just prior to serving pop ice into a blender or food processor and whirl away until there is a mass of smallish ice particles. Scoop into parfait glasses and garnish with sweetened whipped cream. Some like to add more oomph to the buzz by adding libations such as a splash of Kahlua, Amaretto or cognac. Enjoy this creamy bittersweet adult slushy.

Ode to a Friend

MINDFUL

Every day

I see or hear

something

that more or less

kills me

with delight,

that leaves me

like a needle

in the haystack

of light.

It was what I was born for-

to look, to listen

to lose myself

inside this soft world-

to instruct myself

over and over

in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking

about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,

the very extravagant-

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,

the daily presentaions.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

how can you help

but grow wise

with such teachings

as these-

the untrimmable light

of the world,

the ocean's shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

-Mary Oliver