Tilting at the Eggplant Windmills (again)

So anyone who has read even a few of my blogs here knows that my true culinary bete noire is eggplants. My mom never ever met an eggplant she didn’t destroy. And. since we know that the sins of the fathers and mothers are visited upon the following generation, I’m absolutely obsessed with cooking amazing eggplant. No matter how many times I get it right, I still want another crack at undoing my mom’s eggplant chicanery.

So there you have it. I saw these gorgeous, slender purple-colored japanese eggplants in the market the other day and knew they were destined for our soul food kitchen. And in quick order, I had these amazing miso-glazed roasted japanese eggplants sitting on our countertop ready to eat. Wow.

I look around. I yell “service,” to no one in particular as it turns out. Irit stares at me blankly. No one has even ordered this dish. Thus, the way of many obsessions at Etzlenu: eating the fruits (and vegetables) of our craziness. Well my craziness actually. Irit is totally sane.

It does beg the question: Why go down the road of preparing a dish knowing full well that no one has asked for it. One could easily brush off the question with a cavalier answer having to do with the nature of obsessions. Yeah, but even I’m not THAT irrational. I know, even in the thralls of a particular obsession, that there is solid, somber basis for preparing a certain dish. And yet I proceed full speed ahead nevertheless. Why?

I think a partial answer at least has to do with this notion of lifelong learning, of never being complacent about what you think you already know, about a certain restlessness of spirit that maybe helps define the human condition. Then again, perhaps all of this is simply bullshit and it’s really all about saying to mom “see, I finally did it.”