The Eggplant Song

My mom is a little bit obsessed with a singer named Michael Franks. I have no idea where this guy came from; I can't remember ever hearing one of his songs on the radio. And yet, anytime she cooks for a big meal or cleans the house or is just home alone working on a project, you can absolutely expect to hear this man's quirky jazzy music blasting throughout our house.

When I was in high school or came home from college during the holidays, it used to drive me a little bit crazy. Our house is on the large side with pretty fantastic acoustics, and my room happens to be right in the center of the house. I've nicknamed it the "chamber of sounds," because it's right next to the main vents and pipes for the central air, heating, vacuum, and water are. Which of course means that it is also where the sound of anything and EVERYTHING that goes on in the house (dish washing, laundry doing, showering, Michael Franks-blasting) congregates, thereby making it impossible to do anything but give up on trying to read or watch TV and instead spend the afternoon listening to the dish-washing, laundry doing, showering, and Michael Franks-blasting that is going on elsewhere.

It was on one of these afternoons that I, against my will, learned the lyrics to the Eggplant song. I just thought of them again recently when I asked my mom to send me along a specific recipe that I remembered her making. In the instructions she noted that she doesn't always make it the same way twice, "you know, like in the Michael Franks Eggplant song."

I'm totally the same way and thought I'd share the lyrics. You can check out the video here (please excuse the man's mullet and large 'stache. It was the early 90s.)

Eggplant
Michael Franks
From: The Art of Tea

Whenever I explore the land of Yen
I always take one on the chin
And now this lioness has almost made me tame.
I can't pronounce her name but
Eggplant is her game.

The lady sticks to me like white on rice.
She never cooks the same way twice.
Maybe it's the mushrooms. Maybe the tomatoes.
I can't reveal her name but Eggplant is her game.

When my baby cooks her Eggplant,
She don't read no book.
She's got a Giocanna kinda of dirty look

And my baby cooks her Eggplant,
Bout 19 different ways.
Sometimes I just have it raw with Mayonnaise.

Maybe its the way she grates her cheese,
Or just the freckles on her knees.
Maybe its the scallions. Maybe she's Italian.
I can't reveal her name but Eggplant is her game.

When my baby cooks her Eggplant,
She don't read no book.
She's got a Giocanna kinda of dirty look.

And my baby cooks her Eggplant,
Bout 19 different ways.
Sometimes I just have it raw with Mayonnaise.

Just a few I love

I'm in the middle of my mock-Thanksgiving party prepping craziness, but I thought it might be fun to tell you about a few blogs I've discovered recently. If you haven't seen them yet, they definitely deserve a gander. (They're not all food blogs, but they are all lovely.)

Mae Bird: I'm a little bit in love with the photography and sentiment on this blog. Each time my reader tells me that there's a new post, my belly does a little jump of excitement.

Not Drowning, Mothering: This blog is my absolute brand new favorite blog. It's so my favorite that I'm actually not sure why I listed it second. The blog itself isn't brand new; it was around for a while before I even found it, which meant that I once spent several hours (when I should have been writing) reading the archives and giggling. The writer, known as the NDM, has a brilliant voice and I have never once not loved a post or found myself laughing OUT LOUD (and for real, too. Not just that patronizing IM "LOL"). She's a mom with a clever husband, a gaggle of kids (both hers and her friend's), and a delightful turn of phrase. If you've ever read and loved Shirley Jackson's "Life Among the Savages," I think you'll like. (And even if you haven't so don't let that not be your excuse.)

Milk & Honey: I'm so amazed by this young writer/photographer/baker's writing and photos. Something about it just makes my eyes and heart happy.

The British Larder: A recent afternoon I came across about a half-dozen photos on Tastespotting that really caught my eye. Each time I clicked on them, they brought me to this blog, which is written by a UK-based professional chef. Some truly gorgeous and inventive dishes here.


Pacing the Panic Room Floor: Like NDM, this one is also not at all a food blog, but have you been? Have you seen the gorgeous photos and read the beautifully honest prose written by this new dad? He's a photographer and a (new) father who writes with such love about his family.

I'm off to the kitchen now (am already behind schedule, actually), but I hope that you go check out these sites. And maybe tell me about your own recent favorites in the comments below?

xoxo

Turkey on the fly

This is one of my absolute favorite photos. It was taken on a friend's iPhone late at night at one of the more raucous parties I hosted. You can tell from the state of the kitchen that things were definitely a little chaotic, but it was a blast.

And that bottle of Veuve? That was the 6th or 7th one I opened that night.

Earlier today I decided on a total whim that I was going to host a mock-Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday afternoon. I'd been meaning to write about some of my favorite Thanksgiving recipes, but without photos, I didn't think the post would do them justice. So I decided to throw a little party! It won't be as wild as the one above, but it will give me a chance to make all the dishes I've been meaning to share... and to post my pre-Thanksgiving feast menu on here just in time for your last-minute real-Thanksgiving feast planning.

I ran the idea past Eugene who was completely horrified, albeit supportive, and then I sent out a quick e-mail invite to a few awesome friends in the area. We have a nice little group coming AND I already went out and got myself a turkey (plus another four bags filled with ingredients).

I haven't entirely finalized my menu--and I probably won't until I actually start cooking--but I've got a lot of good ideas.

This, as I'm sure you've already guessed, is the kind of cooking (and hosting!) I like to do; creative, spontaneous, and totally risky.

It's going to be fantastic!

In-N-Out Burger: Etymology of a Burger Chain

When I first heard about In-n-Out Burger, I assumed it was a gay burger chain.

I think it was the word "out" that threw me. And the California thing. Whatever the reason, for the longest time I just thought of In-n-Out burger as "that popular California gay burger chain." Like Lambda, the gay and lesbian bookstore on Connecticut Ave in DC, or the now-defunct Food Bar in Chelsea. (Actually, like just about every bar in Chelsea.)

It wasn't until last month, when on our visit to San Francisco, BFF Matt and Reamonn (both Bay Area natives) took a few of us to In-N-Out Burger for the very first time. While walking into the place, I mentioned that my brother and his Marine buddies had all been huge fans of the burgers when he was stationed in Camp Pendleton near San Diego. This was followed with a statement about the irony of it and a reference to "Don't Ask. Don't Tell," when finally, one of my friends turned around and asked me what the hell I was babbling about.

"You know," I said. "Because of the gay thing? In and out...of the closet?"

And while I was still saying it, just before everyone around me burst out laughing, I realized how incredibly wrong I was. In-N-Out was not, as I'd always thought, a clever and slightly risque name for a gay burger chain, but rather a much more literal (and logical) reference to fast food.

Etymology failed me twice that day; as the wait for our burgers was actually quite lengthy. At least it gave the locals the chance to educate us on the "secret menu" so that when my turn finally came up I knew enough to order my burger and fries "animal style." (Or slathered in a pink mayo-ketchup pickle onion sauce situation.)

Unfortunately--and if I haven't already offended a third of my reading public, I'm probably about to with this next statement--I didn't like it. The burger was fine, but didn't taste that much different than a Big Mac. My real issue was with the fries, which I found bland and lacking the bold flavor I usually crave from crisped potatoes and hot salt.

The locals tried to defend their hometown favorite. "It's supposed to be healthier," explained BFF Matt. "They use healthy oils." We (read: the East coasters) just weren't buying it.

"I think that's the problem" I replied, but it was really Eugene's face that said it best:

BAD fries!




*For the past two weeks, whenever I remind Eugene that I have to get a post up before I can go to sleep, he replies "Oh just post a picture of me and come to bed." And so I did.

Veal Marsala for Mama's Birthday

A few days before my mother's birthday last month, my dad called me and told me that since things had been a little hectic around the house lately, he thought it would be a good idea if we skipped the big fancy birthday dinner out at a restaurant, and instead did something low-key and relaxing.

"So," he continued. "I think it would be good if we all just go to your house on Sunday and you can cook."

I don't remember if I actually pointed out the amusing fact that he found my making dinner for my mom, my dad, my brother, my cousin, my cousin's husband, Eugene, and myself to be a "more relaxing" prospect than if he were to just take us all out for dinner, but he must have realized it because after a brief pause he added:

"Oh and I'll pay for the groceries."

I accepted, of course, because the only thing I love more than hosting a large group for dinner is hosting a large group for dinner on my dad's dime.

Since the party was in three days, I spent the next afternoon assembling a menu and grocery list on Fresh Direct. I decided to start with one of my most popular recipes; stuffed mushrooms filled with a mixture of sausage, dried fruits, nuts, garlic, olives, and herbs. Next came panko-crusted goat cheese medallions baked in the oven and drizzled with vincotto and a salad of mixed greens with 20 year artisan strawberry balsamic that we bought in Sonoma a few weeks ago.

The main course consisted of veal marsala with wild mushrooms, rosemary roasted purple fingerling potatoes, and homemade spinach and goat ricotta gnudi with brown butter, sage, and walnuts. For dessert we had pinot noir & tonka bean poached pears stuffed with honey cinnamon mascarpone. We took the opportunity to open up an incredible bottle of port that we got in Sonoma at St. Francis winery. (I'm not a port fan, but I fell in love with this bottle and actually regret not buying a couple more.)

I tried to take a few photos of the food that we served, but between the cooking and hosting and arguing with my brother who kept trying to turn the TV on to "the game," I didn't get a chance to document everything as I would have liked. So, with apologies for the blurry photos, I'll post a few of these over the next couple days.

First up is the veal marsala, which I chose because it's a family favorite and even something that my brother--who as evidenced above can sometimes be difficult--enjoys. There were seven of us that day so I made a large portion, but I've reduced the recipe here to serve a more realistic four. (Or two, with leftovers.)

Veal Marsala
The veal can be replaced with chicken in this recipe if desired.
Serves 4

8 veal cutlets, cut thin and pounded for scaloppine
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
kosher salt
pepper
4 tablespoons of butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 pound wild mushrooms, sliced (button or baby bella mushrooms work too)
1.5 cups low sodium chicken broth
1 cup Marsala wine
fresh parsley


1. Sift the flour into a shallow basin and season generously with salt and pepper. Also sprinkle some of the salt and pepper onto the veal cutlets. Now dip one of the veal cutlets into the flour making sure to coat completely on both sides then set on a baking sheet. Repeat with each cutlet.

2. In a large skillet set over medium-high heat, add the butter and olive oil and heat until the butter is melted and sizzling.

3. Add the veal, in batches if the pan is not large enough, and brown on both sides. Remove from the pan and set on a baking sheet.

4. Into the same pan, add the sliced mushrooms and saute. Add the broth and Marsala and let cook for a minute until it starts to simmer. Lower the heat to medium and then gently arrange the pieces of browned veal back in the pan and let simmer for approximately 5 minutes or until the sauce reduces to two-thirds and thickens slightly. Adjust the sauce for seasoning, adding more salt or pepper if necessary.

5. Serve the veal on a large platter topped with the mushrooms and the sauce from the pan. Top with fresh parsley and serve immediately with a side of pasta or sauteed vegetables such as broccoli rabe.