I am aware that I may isolate many sane
readers who will question the practicality of buying many miniature eggplants. Especially as they are preciously named after
a childhood ideal that conjures up strong, white steeds and ladies with
impossible hair. Furthermore, I suspect at
first pass my addition of vanilla is not going to win over very many hearts.
Bear with me. My thirty-one years have left me nothing if
not at least a little wiser. And also comfortably aware that most of the bow-tied
stories we sell are hooey. Unless, of course, your fantasy includes a woman
alone in the kitchen with an eggplant à la
Laurie Colwin-style. Then you’ve got a
real shot, friend. (Unless, of course, you have children. Then your chances are probably back to
make-believe.)
The fairytale eggplant is a facsimile
of your standard aubergine, except it’s shrunken to an eighth its size and is
often found violet-hued, antiqued with white streaks. When cooked, they collapse and shrivel slightly
away from their skin, poetically turning brown along the way.
I find them much simpler to manage than
the football-shaped grocery store Italian variety. Which makes them fast
charmers. They are a low grill risk for becoming
charred beyond pleasurable consumption and simultaneously tough. They are not bitter. Their skins are thin and
edible and their flesh, soft.
Thus, no salting, no skinning, and
minimal swearing in the kitchen. So I
prefer them, despite their name. And there
may come a time when you find yourself face to face with some. You’ll want to be ready.
I have a fairly standard vegetable treatment,
which includes olive oil, more salt than recommended by the American Heart
Association, fresh lime, and cilantro.
If you have cardamom and cumin, it's wise to employ them. And—I swear—adding a little vanilla adds
intensity and softness, especially paired with the smokiness of the grill.
Since I am without open flames this
summer, I can assure roasting will do in a pinch. What should result is small, slumped, deeply
flavored eggplants. They are good hot
out of the pan. They are wonderful eaten all by their lonesome. Or on toast.
And probably sing tossed into a cold pasta salad. When chilled they act as a marinated
vegetable and behave wonderfully this way.
So you make the marinade. You toss the fairytales. You roast.
You eat. And you all live happily
ever after. At least until it's time to do the dishes.
Cardamom
Cilantro Fairytale Eggplants
Ingredients:
10 fairytale eggplants, sliced
lengthwise
juice of ½ a lime
5 or 6 cardamom pods, shells smashed
and discarded and seeds ground
pinch cumin seed, ground
4 to 6 tbsp olive oil (start
with less and add more as needed)
kosher salt, to taste
3 to 4 tbsp finely chopped cilantro
½ tsp vanilla extract
splash of orange blossom or rosewater
Instructions:
Set the oven to 425 degrees. In a small bowl, combine the lime juice,
spices, olive oil, and pinch of salt. Add
in the cilantro and remaining extracts. Taste
and adjust the seasoning as you see fit.
On a sheet pan, toss the eggplant
halves well in the marinade until fully covered and glossy. (You’ll need enough
oil so they can slide around to help prevent sticking to the pan.) Sprinkle a bit more salt over them.
Roast for about 30 minutes, until they
are tender, have turned brown, and are starting to slightly shrivel.
Serve warm or chilled.
Makes enough for about 4 as a side
Notes:
-I usually leave the stems on, but wouldn’t recommend eating them. Quite woody.
-If you don’t have whole cardamom you
can use ground; start with a pinch. I
use a mortar and pestle to do the smashing and grinding for both the cardamom and cumin seed.
