crack the plates

A little over two weeks ago I purchased four eggplants at the Saturday morning farmer’s market here in Richmond. The noblest of the eggplants travelled with high hopes to Ann Arbor but made its way back; the other three have just been lolling about in the bottom of a veg drawer since purchase. I’ve been putting off doing anything with them because my favorite thing to do with eggplant is make baigan bharta, a roasted and smashed Indian eggplant delight. But with the hour required to roast the eggplants + 35 minutes for everything else, it is a dish that takes some time…time I just haven’t really had.

But oh, I am loathe to throw away food. Side note: I haven’t always been this way. I remember my mom fussing at me frequently for purchasing vegetables and then letting them go to waste. I tell you this now, Meesar: those days are past.

Tonight was the night that I decided I absolutely had (time?) to do something with the four mostly spoiled eggplants languishing in the crisper. Ever hopefully, I speared them, brushed them with olive oil, and roasted them in a 415 degree oven for a little over an hour. When they came out, the skins were black–to be expected–but, upon prodding, so were the insides–unquestionably not to be expected.

Fresh eggplant, when roasted properly, should give way easily to gentle poking. The skin should strip away effortlessly, leaving the creamy-beige flesh to kind of sigh out. Once cut in to, the whole thing should just sort of collapse, its structural integrity destroyed by roasting. It will often be creamy enough to skip a trip to the food processor.

Let me just put it this way: all of the eggplants save one exhibited none of these characteristics. They were tough, held their form past roasting, and definitely needed to be run through the food processor!

Nevertheless, I was able to make one of my best baigan bhartas ever. Not only that, but because I had four eggplants to get rid of and I usually employ only one while making this recipe, I QUADRUPLED the recipe with devastatingly delicious results.

(Something of a) Recipe: Three huge onions chopped & browned in olive oil + 8 tsp coriander, 4 tsp cumin, 2 tsp paprika, 2 tsp garam masala, 2 tsp chili powder, a few pinches of turmeric + four pureed eggplants + tons and tons of garlic (uhm, about 10 cloves) + two chopped jalepenos + a cup of chopped cilantro + half a bag of frozen peas + 28 oz can of chopped tomatoes (I usually use fresh) + a homemade vegan creme = 16 servings of super tasty deliciousness or meals for the next three days. Good to know it can be done!

Though it is a tremendous understatement to say that baigan bharta isn’t much to look at, here’s a picture:

One of my favorite quick meals that tastes like it took ages to make is bhindi masala. “Bhindi” is the Hindi word for ladyfinger AKA okra, and masala, as you probably already know, simply means warm spices. I use a superior pre-ground organic blend that I ordered through our local co-op from Frontier.

As a quick aside, I’ve found that it is much easier to find reliable indian recipes on google if one searches using Hindi rather than the english equivalents. (Check out this glossary for some ideas.) That’s how I found my favorite bhindi masala recipe, located here at Tara Shetty’s long-abandoned blogspot. Here’s a picture of tonight’s dinner:

Since I’ve already linked to the recipe, let me use my space here to counsel you all on selecting okra. Yes, I know it is almost out-of-season, so just keep this in mind for next year…unless of course you live in the glorious southern USA states, where it is available fresh in supermarkets year-round.

I grew up in the south–northwest Georgia, for those who don’t know–and I watched my parents grow okra, helped ‘em harvest it, and now plant my own. And so I learned early on, from my maternal grandmother, I think, how to pick okra. In the US and abroad, okra is also called “lady’s finger” or ladyfinger for short.

F-ed up gender & body notions aside, consider that some of the folks who first started calling it “ladyfinger” were likely the people who harvested it in the field. Most of us are so divorced from the growing processes of our food these days that we forget that it comes from farmers who have their own notions about the world and their own intimate connection with their plants. These farmers may have tagged the okra “lady’s finger” because okra tastes best when it is picked at about two inches in length, i.e, about the length of an average woman’s pinky finger. Allowed to grow much longer, the seeds get tremendous and the texture woody–only good for a heavily stewed gumbo, if that.

For best flavor, okra should be picked when it is young and tender. Both genders can judge a good piece of okra at the market by holding it up against the little finger. If it’s much longer, throw it back–it’ll be dry, woody, and the seeds, pearls. If it’s smaller, bag it and find its friends!