Monday, November 16, 2009


I found him a couple of months ago at our local fresh fruit and veg shop.
Normally the eggplants are bruised, battered, and starting to fester around the green sepals.
He was sitting proudly at the top, the size of a football, perfectly smooth and shiny.
I snaffled him before anyone else could and ran like a small child to show off my find.
So beautiful, he sat proudly on the table for a few days, reflecting the glow of the candles while we ate.
I sent him off for a photo shoot, but I knew that he would have to make the ultimate sacrifice.
We found a recipe for Moussaka in Claudia Roden’s A Book of Middle Eastern Food, said our final goodbyes and sliced him up.
He was delicious, the creamy grilled eggplant layered with the béchamel and lamb mince mixture.
I still check the eggplants every time we go to the shop- but so far no one has even come close to his perfection.

1 comment:

Hazel said...

P.S. forgive me my botanical incorrectness – of course all eggplants are girls - but for some reason this one was a guy for me!

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