Last night I attempted to make Eggplant Parmesan. I think it turned out right . . . there were not problems as far as overcooked or undercooked . . . except that I can officially say I don't like eggplant so it wasn't a hit. At the risk of boring you here is the story:
So one of our neighbors grows a humongous garden and is a chef. He gave me the eggplant and told me how to prepare it. I told him that we had tried eggplant a few times, but I had never been pleased with the texture or flavor. So here goes nothing I decided. But I was wrong. 4:30 pm I start--Burke is usually home by 6. I peeled and sliced the eggplant and set it out on a cooling rack to "sweat"-- a process that removes the bitterness of the plant by sprinkling coarse sea salt on the surface. Rebekah started crying and I was washing dishes. I finished the dishes and sat down to feed the baby. Hmmm. Where is Preston? He has snuck a bag of Sunday's rolls into his bedroom and is having a tea party. Bread and crumbs everywhere. Some rolls can be salvaged. I didn't yell. Back to the eggplant. Rinse and dry the eggplant. Rebekah is shrieking again. Put Rebekah in the front pack. Head back to the Kitchen. Pull out the blender to make breadcrumbs. Make the breadcrumbs out of stale loaf ends. Beat a few eggs in a square pan. Dip the eggplant slices and bread. Rebekah wants to touch everything so it takes longer than it should. Finish the first pan. Where is Preston? After some hunting I find him (because it is strangely quiet and he is not answering my calls) Found . . . in my closet spraying all of my clothes (& let's face it Burke's too) with purfume. There is also a bottle of hairspray on the floor and his hair is very sticky. I yell this time. 5:36pm Where is Burke?! He has been off work only 6 minutes-- and that is if he left on time-- can't count on him for help just yet! Clean up Preston (somewhat) and redirect. Return to the kitchen. Dip and bread the second pan of eggplant. Bake 10 minutes per side. Burke gets home and takes Rebekah at this point. I tell him if he doesn't like this dinner we are going out to eat. It has just been that kind of day. I start cleaning again (I do miss all of the counter space I had in my last kitchen. I keep telling myself we are going to have a nice evening and enjoy each other. I am feeling less stressed. By 6:30 I am assembling the casserole-- layering eggplant, red sauce, and cheeses. End with cheese and sprinkle with basil. Bake 20 minutes more. Then I remember that I am supposed to serve with pasta. No water boiling. I decide I can still land on my feet. Put the water on high heat. Find some pasta. Somehow it is now after 7. Why is everything taking so long?! 7:30 we finally sit down to eat. Whew! I am feeling relieved and ready to be done. I am the only one eating. Burke and Preston are picking at this afraid it might jump out and bite them. It is an unusal taste, but not terribly gross. I decide I probably won't make it again. Preston declares he is finished. Burke asks where I want to go to dinner. I almost start to cry. He is nice and appreciative but I still feel bad. Three hours of work. We still need dinner. How is Burger King better than what I just made? I find myself not hungry. I order a milkshake. While I drink it I decide eggplant must be an aquired taste. I think we are having ramen noodles tonight!
Rebekah is starting to push up a bit on her hands a bit-- she really loves to roll and scoot. She is sitting unassited for short periods too. She is starting to be a little mischief maker-- this week as luck would have it she fell in love with Preston's favorite teddybear--and she doesn't get distracted easily so the old trade thing isn't as effective as I was hoping (It probably doesn't help that Preston prances around and says, " NO Rebekah-- this is MY bear!" while waving it just beyond her reach . . .I guess that is what older brothers are for!)
