At Table: Stuffed Eggplant

There are finally carving pumpkins at the farmers' market, and the little girl who stood beside me this morning, sorting through a generous crate of them — purple raincoat, blond curls, a hip boxed out to keep her smaller brother from the action — furrowed her inchworm brows, looking for just the right size, just the right stem.

There are also sweet dumpling squash (soup bowl–size, they're perfect for filling with stew), plus butternut, acorn, buttercup and hopi orange squash. Dried Indian corn was tied in pretty trios with ribbons of husk, along with dried bundles of a pink-tinged hydrangeas and apples and pears galore. Damp bundles of carrots were still attached to their exuberant greens, which piled together looked as though a crinoline hid beneath them. Fingerling potatoes still had last night's (this morning's?) dirt on them, and there were beets and turnips, also with their greens, as well as parsnips, collard greens, kohlrabi and even soy beans.

And beside them all, still summer's last push of tomatoes, corn, peaches, string beans, eggplants, and lettuces. I feel something between frantic and melancholy, knowing that too soon our choices will be limited to resilient apples and root vegetables. Already I'm mourning the plums.

Most days I'm out of the bed first and R. will immediately slide over to put his cheek in the warm indent where my head was. Yesterday, though, he left on a work trip, and so today I woke up alone, missing him but still happy to slide my legs to his still-cool side of the bed.

It's a brisk day, with a few clouds spilling drops, though not enough for an umbrella, and walking to the market I decided on a lunch of stuffed eggplant. In "The Gastronomy of Marriage" I write about eating alone — which I find to be a very different animal from eating with others, both for our choices and how we go about it. Today's choice was as simple as wanting to buy more eggplant before they disappear, and that R. isn't the biggest fan of eggplant or broccoli rabe, so I tend to eat these non-stop when he's away.

Below is a casual version of my mother's Stuffed Eggplant recipe that I include in "Gastronomy..." Once you get the hang of scooping out the eggplant, it couldn't be simpler.

















Stuffed Eggplant

• 2 eggplants (I used black eggplants — Beauties, or maybe Black Beauties— though the photo above is of Rosa Biancas, which are amazingly creamy and would be perfect for this)
• several glugs of olive oil
• 5 or 6 garlic cloves, minced (Note: I love a garlic bulb with the stem still on; their cloves tend to be as wet as jicama when you slice into then, versus the dry nubs I find in the grocery store.)
• 3 eggs, beaten
• 1/2 cup bread crumbs (my mom likes the Italian-seasoned kind; if you're inspired to use up some old bread and make yours from scratch, just ground them more fine than coarse).
• 1/2 to 3/4 cup of grated Parmesan (to taste)
fresh or dried basil
salt and cracked black pepper
2 cups of marinara sauce, or more to taste































1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

2. Slice the eggplants length-wise down their centers. Then, with a paring knife, outline them somewhat — leaving a centimeter or two between the knife and the skin — and then score the flesh, making several tic-tack-toe boards with the knife.

3. Use a soup spoon to pull out the white flesh, taking care not to pierce the skin (if you do, just plug it up with a piece of the eggplant) and then chop the flesh into roughly 1/2-inch cubes or at least smaller-than-bite-size pieces.

4. Pour a cup of the sauce into the bottom of a casserole dish and then line up the emptied shells, head to toe.

















5. Warm the olive oil in a large skillet over low-to-medium heat and lightly saute the garlic. Do NOT let it brown. Add the eggplant and raise the heat to medium-high, sauteing the eggplant until it's soft and a little gooey. Add salt and pepper to taste. (If it seems too dry in the pan or starts sticking, just add a splash of water.)

















6. Turn off the heat and add the basil, eggs, breadcrumbs and cheese. Combine these lightly and then portion them out into the shells. (Note: For a lighter version, try replacing the breadcrumbs with ricotta.)































7. Use the remaining sauce to top each shell and then sprinkle on more cheese to taste. (Confession: If you add more basil at this point, it'll come out of the oven a really ugly color. I only added it for the sake of the photo...)

8. Cover with foil and bake 35 minutes. Remove foil and bake 10 minutes more. Sprinkle with fresh basil, if you have it.

Buon appetito.