Easter Eggplant

I’m a week late posting about my very cute “Easter Eggplant” recipe, but having just devoured a microwaved version of the buttery stuffing mixed with brown rice for lunch, I’m reminded how good and…purple they were.

Growing up Catholic, Easter was kind of a big deal, and we had some pretty steadfast traditions that were not to be disturbed. There is NO WAY, no way no way no way, that our Easter baskets would be filled with whatever mis-shapen chocolate bunny happened to be on sale at CVS. We take our chocolate very seriously, and Cincinnati’s Aglamesis Brothers cream eggs were pretty much my reason for living through February

The past two years I’ve lived with Ann in Philly, I’ve tried to be a good big sister and use Easter as an excuse to buy quality chocolate. Leave it to my procrastinating self, there was nothing left at the chocolate shop in the Reading Terminal. I settled on some flowers and a Sunday dinner.

There is so much Easter in my Easter Eggplants. First of all, they were mini. Like baby chickens! Second, like I said, they were purple, like my Easter bonnet was in second grade. Third, they were stuffed with dates and pine nuts, which for some reason make me think of Jesus [??]. He was, after all, from the Levant, and I’m sure was a fan of the stuffed vegetables like any Israelite worth their salt. J

Baby Eggplants stuffed with Red Cabbage, Dates and Pine Nuts

I used 10 baby eggplants and had plenty of stuffing left over, which I mixed with brown rice and froze for lunch.

To make the stuffing:

Sautee a whole, chopped onion with a little bit of cinnamon, salt, pepper and allspice. Stir in about 5 cups of chopped red cabbage, sauté for a minute, and then add a little water, a little wine, and about a table spoon of tomato paste. Stir and let simmer. Once it is soft, stir in about 5-7 chopped dates and a handful of toasted pine nuts. Finish it off with a pat of butter and set aside.

Cut the tops off your eggplants and set aside in a place where your sister won’t accidentally throw them away [my eggplants were topless this time]. Scoop out the insides with a spoon or whatever that tool Arab grandmas use to hollow out squash is called. Coat the hollowed out babies in olive oil and stuff them with the filling. Roast for about 20 minutes or until they’re soft.

This recipe could use a little figuring out. My eggplants actually were kind of tough. I wondered if instead of roasting them, I let them broil in some of the water, wine and tomato paste juice?

Maple braised turnips with cabbage pear slaw

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In my undying quest to try cooking as many different kinds vegetables as I possibly can, I took the plunge and tried to do up some turnips. I've never cooked with them before and the only thing I know about turnips is that when they are pickled, they turn hot pink and taste good on falafel.


So I guess its not surprising that even in my attempt to do something other than submerge them in brine, they still turned out hot pink and stinking of vinegar, thanks to the red cabbage slaw I topped them with.

I owe my inspiration to this Iraqi recipe posted on Desert Candy last week. Short on molasses, I substitued an entire mini-bottle of pure maple syrup, plundered from Cracker Barrel on a family vacation last year. I sliced the turnips into 1/2 inch thick rounds, and simmered them in about 1 and a half cups of juice with equal amounts of syrup, lemon juice and water. I cooked them on low-medium heat until the liquid was absorbed and they looked glazed and translucent, about 35 minutes. I kept their pretty purple skins on, which I think lent a spicy radish flavor but may have also them bitter-er. When they were done, I sprinkled them with a little crushed red pepper, but I think I overdid it just a smidge. Just use a little bit.

The red cabbage slaw was partially motivated by an inexplicable craving for vinegar I've had as of late. I can't stop daydreaming about salt and vinegar potato chips..its very weird. The slaw was easy...I made Ann shred the cabbage because my cabbage shreds were more like chunks. I cut up a pear and tossed the salad with some white wine vinegar, a little olive oil, a little sugar, and some powdered horseradish that we've had since god knows when, but I've never used.

What I wished I would have done:

• let the turnips crisp a little bit in the pan after all the juice had been absorbed


• used less hot pepper


• used sesame oil instead of olive oil on the slaw

Salmon with veggie couscous and harrissa sauce

Tuesday afternoon lunches are starting to become a fixture as I adjust to my new part-time work schedule. I think they might be my new favorite meal.

Ann and I have about an hour of overlap at home, and I usually manage to carve out about 45 minutes for a decent lunch in between running to meetings and franticly checking off things from my to-do list. Its a perfect chance for Ann and I to catch up about our weekend gossip, and presents a fun challenge to be efficient and concise in both our cooking and story-telling. Its a good thing, because Ann has the tendency to week-long stories with multiple tangents, and I have the tendency to overcook things.



This week's lunch was nothing short of glam. It took 20 minutes to cook and 3 minutes to eat. And ironically enough, despite its elegant facade, came together out of sheer economic necessity. Poor Ann is so broke she can't pay attention, and had eaten nothing more than pasta and rice with butter for a week straight. She was in serious need of protein, and when she asked if she could cook up the two salmon steaks I had scored for free from my part time catering gig, I didn't have the heart to ask her to save them for a special occasion. Tuesday afternoon would just have to be a good enough reason.





The sauce is one that I've been wanting to try. It's vaguely Egyptian, the base of which my aunt taught me as a fantastic topping to mjeddera. I two-upped her version with sundried tomatoes and harissa, a Moraccan spice paste.



Ann, ever the culinary school student, plated it like this for the picture. 2.2 seconds after a satisfactory shot had been taken, I was back at the sauce pan, dousing my fish with a few more tablespoons. The vinegar-y tang brought the whole thing together marvelously, I dare say that it was exciting to eat because of it.

For the couscous, we first sauteed two green peppers and half an onion until they were soft-ish, then toasted the grain for a hot minute with the veggies. We covered it with enough water that the that it rose to one and a half knuckles above the layer of couscous [Lebanese weights and measures] and steamed until it ran out of water, or the pot started to burn, whichever came first.

Cooking the salmon was as easy as a little salt, pepper, garlic and olive oil. Ann said it was overcooked, but I didn't notice. Its such a recent thing, this eating fish business, so I have no point of reference to judge what is good or bad.

The sauce was an afterthought, built off of my desire to include sun-dried tomatoes in some fashion. I chopped a few dried tomatoes and heated them with some vinegar, mashed garlic, harissa from a tube, and tomato paste. In my mind, it was the star of the show.

Cheesy Peas and Rice

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I have been steadily trying to avoid both processed foods, because they are stupidly expensive, and anything overly cheesy, because I am trying to overcome something of an addiction. [If I had my druthers, my diet could easily consist of cheesy bread, cheese sauce, cheese cubes, and cheesecake. I love cheese! But moderation is key, and I take pride in the fact that every time I go to the doctor, they tell me I have impeccable blood pressure. I don't want to ruin my track record. ] And bastardized versions of "ethnic" cuisine, because I get so annoyed when people try and mess with Lebanese food.

Anyway, this recipe includes all three, but it came together so magically,I just had to post about it. My sister, between rushing from pastry school to her job at an asbestos law firm, made a quick lunch of Campbell's tomato soup and a grilled cream cheese sandwich. She left about a half of cup of tomato soup sitting in the pot, and I, feeling both resistant to throwing it out or keeping it, decided to jazz it up into something special.

With literally three flicks of the wrist, I ended up with a vaguely-Indian inspired tomato rice pea cheese risotto thing. And it was delicious! Requiring virtually nothing in the way of preparation, I chucked it on the stove, cleaned the rest of the kitchen, organized my hallway closet and when I came back, lunch was ready. It was perfectly sweet and salty and spicy, with the consistency of homemade mac and cheese, and smelling like an Indian buffet in an Ohio strip mall. Delightful!

It was as simple as heating the cold and rapidly congealing leftover soup, adding 1/2 cup of milk, a bit of water, a generous hunk of butter, a bit of flour and about 1/4 of a package of cream cheese, cubed, bringing it all to boil and then simmering for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once it was starting to look melty and saucy, I stirred in a can of sweet peas and about a 1/4 cup of rice. Rooted in my spice drawer and came up with cumin, cayanne, and tumeric [I almost added saffron but decided it would add unnecessary elegance]. No salt, cause I figured that my boy Campbell probably had enough sodium to give Lance Armstrong a heart attack. I brung it all to a boil and let simmer for 20 minutes or so and I had my Cheesy Peas and Rice [I wouldn't dare call it Mutter Paneer, but it is certainly where I owe my inspiration].

What I wished I would have done:

• Added the flour and cheese slower...I did end up with some clumps and I really wanted a smooth, creamy sauce.

How mushrooms will save the world

A Salon article on my three favorite subjects...food, bioremediation, and politics.

Wil-Mart

Not doing too much cooking this week cause I'm in sunny San Diego for a work meeting [not to say I haven't been eating, though. Much posting about San Diego restaurants to ensue] I did stumble across this article on the Newsweek website that I found interesting.

As America changes, so does the store where America shops. In Dearborn this week, the world's largest retailer opens a store like no other among its 3,500 U.S. outlets. Walk through the front door of the 200,000-square-foot supercenter and instead of rows of checkout counters, you find a scene akin to a farmers market in Beirut. Twenty-two tables are stacked high with fresh produce like kusa and batenjan, squash and eggplant used in Middle Eastern dishes. Rimming the produce department are shelves filled with Arab favorites like mango juice from Egypt and vine leaves from Turkey used to make mehshi, or stuffed grape leaves.

My extended family loves Wal-Mart, much to my dads chagrin. My Aunt Sana's broken english is the subject of many of our family jokes, and calls it Wil-Mart. We crack up every time.

Believe you me, if Wal-Mart sold fresh fava beans or green almonds in Philly, I would be there in a minute. But rest assured, Wal-Mart and this article are full of bullshit. There is no shortage of kusa in Dearborn. Every corner is either an arabic bakery or produce vendor...their schpiel about not wanting to put out the small businesses is complete crap. Its also nice that they are hiring Arabs at $5.50/hr to stock shelves. Its like saying that Taco Bell is hiring Mexicans to make soft tacos...great!