Breaded Eggplant Stacks

Growing up Italian, fried eggplant was as much a staple for dinner as Sunday sauce. My grandmothers, and their mothers before them lived out of the garden. Squash, basil, figs, tomatoes, lemons. The season dictated what was cooking. The season coupled with a serious sense of waste not anything in your possession. And there was no cowering away from oil in a pan. This, I am especially grateful for. 

The extended hours of summer have ignited in me a renewed energy to channel the women before me and get resourceful at home. I have taken to using basic ingredients to make food  that is often simple, and always comforting. 

We received an assortment of vegetables from our friend who works his own farm. My line of reasoning to discern the best use for the produce went something like this.

"Eggplant would make a darling little portion of Eggplant parmigiana, but it's too hot to turn the oven on. Parmigiana reminds me of Caprese, less the heat. Summer IS Caprese salad. Oh goodness, I want fried eggplant though. Ok, let's just stack the eggplant on a vertical Caprese salad."

I sliced the eggplant first. 

James recommended using Panko in lieu of regular bread crumbs for breading because it gives the otherwise soft vegetable a nice crunch. Coat each eggplant slice with egg, followed by Panko and set aside while the oil, (I used canola), heated through in a shallow pan. 

I dropped the Panko breaded eggplant into the hot oil and it began to sizzle over medium-low heat, as that indistinguishable "fried" smell I know and love permeated the kitchen. It brought back vivid imagery of meal times at home or at Nana's when I was a growing, hungry little girl.

Gently press your thumb into the center of the unheated side of the eggplant. When it is soft and warm, flip with a fork or spatula. Fry for an additional few minutes on the other side and check for desired doneness, and brown color. 

I sliced the beautiful tomatoes as thin as I was able. Tomatoes still give me a little trouble and James doesn't trust me yet with his extra sharp Chef knife;  I don't necessarily blame him. Before I purposed the tomatoes into the stacks, I paused to take in just how bright and inviting they looked, in red and yellow hues.

Once the eggplant cooled, I lightly salted each slice as I did not season the Panko. You can season the Panko before coating the eggplant if you wish, but I like biting into the coarse sea salt. 

I don't have an advanced grasp of flavor profiles. The complex concepts I leave to James, the actual chef, to execute until I can learn them. For me, salt, pepper, and olive oil are the ingredients I consistently use. Flavorful basics speak for themselves: bread, cheese, vegetables. I've said time and time again I could live on bread and cheese alone, and a cantaloupe every so often. (and chocolate, obviously.)

This refreshing summer fare came together as easily as playing with building blocks. Eggplant, tomato, mozzarella, eggplant and so on. I drizzled each stack with extra virgin olive oil, added a touch more salt and pepper, and adorned with basil and balsamic reduction. 

We ate outside, without utensils, and licked our olive oil soaked fingers clean. 

Scenes from Sunday: Backyard Mint Ice Cream

It's difficult to recall a time I wasn't contented and at peace while eating ice cream. Ice cream is made for happy times, summer warmth, and running outside with sweat dripping down your forehead. Actually, I must amend that statement. I can remember vivid exchanges, pouring my heart out to a girlfriend or listening on with angst as we both tucked in to a pint of Very Chocolate Chunk, distressed and vulnerable. But nonetheless, we were not alone, and there's value in that at least.

I received Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams at Home as a gift. A gorgeous body of work, it set my summer off on a promising trajectory - countless flavors boasting inventive combinations and beautiful applications. For my first pass at Jeni's ice cream, I made Backyard Mint, both my favorite flavor and quintessentially indicative of summer. 

I cleared a Sunday afternoon and stood in the corner of my kitchen, alone, prepping all the components. First, a slurry (semiliquid mixture) is made of milk and corn starch. Milk, cream, sugar, and corn syrup are brought to a boil in a saucepan. 

The cream is removed from heat, and the slurry is whisked in.

Then, fresh mint goes into the cream; it's a welcome holiday for the senses.

The hot cream is transferred to a plastic bag and cools in an ice bath, then into the refrigerator to steep. 

She instructs 4 to 12 hours for steeping. I was seriously excited for ice cream sundaes, so I took out my mixture at 4 hours on the dot. The mint is strained and the cream is poured into the frozen maker. Note: The bowl must be entirely frozen so freeze well in advance of any ice cream-capades.

I am using this maker by Cuisinart.

Within 15 minutes or so of churning, the ice cream should be ready and placed in the freezer to harden. Meanwhile, I began preparing the cookies. While I intended to make ice cream sandwiches per Jeni's serving suggestion, my macaron cookies came out a bit flat. Fortunately, they still made a nice garnish, and were fun to prepare. I had to trace biscuit cutters as a guide for the cookie batter - I felt like a preschooler learning new things about the world all over again. 

While the cookies baked, I shaved some chocolate and stored it in the freezer. I'm fond of cold and almost crispy chocolate, like day old bread. 

Mom's favorite is Lindt milk chocolate, so milk it was. 

Making homemade ice cream is an exercise in patience. The initial steeping phase for the cream, and then the ice cream hardening in the freezer brings you to about 5 hours or so start to finish, minimum. 

When the ice cream has set, garnish with fresh mint, shaved chocolate of your choice, and chocolate wafers. 

But as the adage says, good things take time. We were all pleased with the outcome and will look to Jeni's book for more ice cream adventures this summer. And if I am really lucky, I'll make it to one of her shops. 

... and indulge.  For more tidbits from Jeni, click here. 

Pretzel making

Soft pretzels remind me of sporting events and carnivals- all feel good, summer night memories. I've had some with cinnamon and sugar, others with coarse salt, and even one wrapped around a hot dog. As a little experiment I bought a pretzel making kit, and put on my pretzel making hat. 

I mixed, kneaded, let rise, and rolled according to the instructions. The kit came with an illustrated tutorial detailing how to roll the pretzels in to their iconic shapes. While they were not perfect, they did resemble pretzels; I made them smaller than instructed because I was going to add some sin as toppings: cheddar, bacon, and scallions to be exact. 

Once rolled, the pretzels are dipped in a water and baking soda solution, then placed on a prepared pan in the preheated oven.

While the pretzels cooked for the first eight minutes, I grated the cheddar. 

At the eight minute mark, I removed the pretzels from the oven, rubbed each with olive oil, and topped with a generous helping of shredded cheddar and bacon bits. 

I rotated the pretzel tray before placing back in the oven and cooked for 5 minutes longer. Per the instructions, cook until the desired brown/done-ness, between 5 and 8 minutes. 

The warm pretzels were topped with chopped scallions and served with a spicy clam chowder that James had whipped up. 

Bread and cheese are among my favorites and while not the most nourishing, they make a strong case for the most comforting. Thus, it's not even remotely appealing to me to live a bacon cheddar scallion soft pretzel free life. The experiment was a semi-homemade success. 

National Doughnut Day

For the past few days, social media has been abuzz about the coming of National Doughnut Day. I myself am a fan of any day we pay homage to a specific food, especially one as delectable as a dense, sugary doughnut.

I found a recipe for Biscuit Donuts, brought vegetable oil to the right temperature (365 degrees) in my Lodge cast-iron dutch oven and fried up two types. One kind, with the traditional peephole, was coupled with a simple vanilla glaze, tinted pink, from Lara Ferroni and rainbow sprinkles. The other batch was a rounded mound of doughy goodness rolled in confectioner's sugar and filled with raspberry jam.  They were lovely, if I may say so. 

Happy National Doughnut Day to all.

Strawberry Rhubarb

Some may believe Memorial Day marks the beginning of the barbecue season or the first weekend it is warm enough to go to the beach. Admittedly, we indulged during the long weekend. We got together with friends and family, spent time in the sunshine, waded in the lagoon and had too many hot dogs, but more importantly we paid tribute to our troops. Selfless men and women who have sacrificed their own freedom and even lives to ensure people they have never even met might enjoy those very things. It was a weekend laden with emotion and ceremony. My boyfriend James, former active duty United States Marine, shared a tribute with my family on Monday afternoon. He bought an extra six pack of beer. We opened each can, one by one, pouring them over the grass to honor the fallen. He cried which is rare; I cried which is not rare. Everyone cried grateful tears, appreciative tears for lives lost and the lives still entangled in conflicts around the world. 

Someone in the digital sphere had said we can give thanks by living a life worthy of their sacrifice. While I can't save lives in the same way, I can endeavor to make the world a tad more kind, even sweeter. I took to my large pile of magazines and found a Strawberry Rhubarb Pie recipe from the Food Network. I found rhubarb at the market, an ingredient I have never worked with, and I got acquainted with its raw bitterness. I spent hours alone in my kitchen, following every step and assembling my very first pie, entirely from scratch. Berries were washed, butter cubed, and dough kneaded. 

While the dough was chilling we got a great rain and I listened to the calming melody of falling drops on the window sill. I rolled out the crusts and mixed the filling with sugar and the juice of just one lemon. The pie was arranged on a soaked picnic table as the drops made a lovely pattern. 

My crust strips may have been uneven, but the pie was bursting with character. It made me very proud to make something, every component, from start to finish. In to the oven it went, the aroma bewitching. Butter and fruit filled my home. We enjoyed the pie on Memorial Day with fresh whipped cream and touch of vanilla, silently giving thanks to the men and women away from their families. God willing most will return home, but the bitter reality dictates otherwise. May we never forgot them and strive to live lives worthy of their sacrifice.