Eggplant's tears sweeten the parmigiana

(Eggplant Parmigiana is no doubt my husband's favorite meal)

Traditions are hard to break, especially when it comes to cooking. My mother had her culinary ways, one of which was to make the eggplant "cry" before frying for the classic dish, eggplant parmigiana.

But is it really a necessary step?



It doesn't matter.

My mother was convinced it made the eggplant more tender, ridding it of the bitter juices within. And that is good enough for me.

I loved watching her make eggplant parmigiana when I was young, sitting at the kitchen table while she assembled the implements for crying. The key component was an old-fashioned iron she used to weigh down a plate on top of the salted eggplant slices that were layered in a colander. I think I enjoyed more the stories associated with that old household implement than the meal itself.

"When I was your age," she would say, " we had to heat this iron over the stove and then iron the clothes."

I could not fathom a kitchen with no electricity; a stove heated with wood; a cast-iron implement to smooth the wrinkles from my clothes. How did one survive without "modern" conveniences?

So whether or not making the eggplant cry before cooking is essential to the finished dish, I continue the tradition passed on by my mother.




Today, that old iron is a keepsake that is used more often to keep a door open than to make an eggplant cry. I have switched to one of my smaller Le Creuset pots, the one shaped like a tomato, to weigh down the eggplant slices. But that iron is never far from my memory.




And I believe crying is good for an eggplant. After an hour or so, there remains a puddle of brown juices expressed from the eggplant. Those bitter tears remind me of the wonderful woman who worked magic in the kitchen for her family.


Whenever there is reason to celebrate, my husband will ask for eggplant parmigiana. Even if there is no reason, it will be time to make it anyway. Eggplant Parmigiana is his favorite meal — ever. And it is my favorite meal to make, and eat, as it is sweetened with memories of a loving tradition.


I have posted this recipe before, but it is well worth repeating. Sometimes you can't get enough of a good thing.

Eggplant Parmigiana

Start with a nice fresh eggplant; I usually remove some of the skin with a vegetable peeler.
Slice into rounds (or if you want, slice along the length of the eggplant for longer slices); place the slices in layers, sprinkled with salt, in a colander and set to “cry."
After the slices have had a good weep, about an hour or so, pat them dry and prepare the following:

1. 1 plate with flour (white).
2. 1 plate with good breadcrumbs (I use plain and then season them a bit with a little pepper, paprika, dried oregano and a grating of Parmesan).
3. A pie pan or similar shallow bowl to hold about 4 eggs beaten with a bit of milk (about ¼ cup); season the eggs with a little pepper, a grating of Parmesan and some freshly minced parsley (skip adding salt to the eggs or breadcrumbs because there will be some residual salt from the crying process).
4. Dredge each slice in flour, then the egg mixture, then breadcrumbs; set them aside on a large platter.
5. Heat a large skillet with good vegetable oil and a little extra virgin olive oil (don’t use all extra virgin olive oil to fry, as it tends to get smoky), or you could use all light olive oil for frying. Make sure the oil is hot, hot, hot, and fry the slices in batches, leaving them to drain on brown paper bags or paper towels. Blot them with clean paper towels when they are all done to remove any excess oil

At this point, you should have already made your Sunday slow-simmer sauce and purchased the freshest homemade mozzarella you can find.
Grate the mozzarella; keep a hunk of Parmigiano Reggiano and Pecorino Romano nearby.

• In a large baking casserole, layer some sauce, fried eggplant slices, a little more sauce, grated mozzarella and a dusting of both hard cheeses; continue with the layering process (about three layers total) and finish with the sauce and cheeses on top.
• Bake, loosely covered with aluminum foil, in a preheated 350-degree oven for about 25 minutes; uncover, then cook for about another 15-20 minutes until it is bubbly and lightly browned.
• Let the casserole set up a bit (about 15 minutes) before cutting.

I like to serve my parmigiana with a side of pesto linguine, some good crusty bread, and of course, a glass of good Italian red wine. Salute !