Fairytale Eggplant with Summer Squash

Last night as I handed over my name and phone number to a very tall and thin host at Barrio Chino, agreeing to a one and a half hour wait for a table, maybe just two seats at the bar, I realized it has been a long time since I've "gone out" in New York.

The last time my friend Ciara and I got together we went to Don Hills, a nighttime relic of the eighties clinging to it's punk rocker history, that is now, as scenes go, dead as a doornail. Just like I like it. Ciara, her friend Brian, and I danced to British Pop on an empty dance floor drinking $3 PBR's all night. It was great. No standing in line, no strange men rubbing up against you, and everyone got their own disco ball to hop and spin to.

Yesterday was different. Normally I would never wait an hour and a half for a table but Barrio Chino came with recommendations, I was craving a good margarita, and since it was just Ciara and me, we decided to grab a drink somewhere else until the call came that we were finally worthy of a seat. The night was young.

Turning the corner onto Orchard, wondering where to go, a bright and uncharacteristically cheery glow spilled out onto the dirty sidewalk. A new tequila bar! Perfect! We sat ourselves down and ordered two margaritas on the rocks. The bartender was strangely nice and even after we'd ordered, lingered, smiling at us a little more before happily getting to his mixing and shaking. Weird. Why is a Lower East Side bartender smiling? He must have moved to New York yesterday. Whatever. The service was speedy. He brought us two large, globe-like glasses filled to the top with ice, followed by another lingering smile. Looking down at our drinks we wondered if maybe we should have ordered them neat. Hello? Any Margarita in there? Ciara and I slurped and splashed our way through this never ending slushy of ice, which actually had a decent amount of booze after all, laughing and having a good time. The clock ticked on.

An hour and a half passed without a phone call and our patience for a pretentious wait list on a Tuesday night had passed, we paid our bill and decided walk back to Barrio. If they couldn't seat us we'd move on. Tequila and lime was sloshing around in our empty bellies and the evening could go South very soon without some food. "Oh", the host said, "I was just about to call you! I have two bar seats but if you want to wait just a few more minutes a table is about to open up." 

We read the menu taped to the window from the sidewalk, and tried not to faint.

Finally seated we ordered immediately. Two more margaritas, guacamole and chips, the Cornish hen rubbed with lime, jalapeno and cilantro for Ci, and the pulled lamb with green rice for me. 

The clock ticked on but you couldn't hear it from all the noise.

Twenty minutes later our drinks arrived. They were good but not worth the wait, and then about ten minutes later the guacamole appeared. The chips were delicious, thick, freshly made and lightly salted but the guacamole was more like chopped onions with a little avocado. It was very strange. So far, in the past two hours, Ciara and I had mostly eaten ice and onions. We were cranky, hoarse, and dared them to turn out a good meal.

About forty five minutes later, nearly dead, our food finally arrived. We inspected it, poked at it, and exchanged a glance that said, "if this isn't the best meal I've ever had we're walking out of here and getting ice cream".

I have to say, it was delicious. The lamb was tender and rich, filled with spicy flavor and Ciara's Cornish Hens were succulent and perfectly cooked. We softened a little. Don't get me wrong, we would never come back here, but we would go home full and a little tipsy.

What happened next was like a scene out of a horror film. It's the moment that the hot young girl, locks herself in a bathroom with the phone, 911 on the line, thinking that she's safe, and has averted danger. It's the moment when the audience tightens, sees the flash of a knife in the medicine cabinet, and can't help but scream, "Look behind you!" 

Smiling and at last blissfully happy with my meal I put a big forkful of rice into my mouth. My eyes widened. Tears began to stream down my cheeks, drool spilled out of my mouth, and a flash of heat traveled from the top of my head to my gut in a matter of seconds clearing everything in it's path. Those little orange slivers garnishing the rice were not pickled onions. They were habaneros. I must have put four or five in my mouth at once. I couldn't speak. I just stared at Ciara, mouth agape, in disbelief, my nose running like a drunk fleeing a fire. Check please!

Eating at Barrio Chino reminds me why eating at home can be so great. There is no wait, and you never have to blast your head off unless you want to! Last week I bought some fairytale eggplants from the farmers market, because who wouldn't? And made up a dish with what I had. Some eggplant, some summer squash, brown rice and a little radicchio, which in my opinion, is the dinosaur of lettuces. They last forever in the fridge.

And as for Barrio Chino, can't say I didn't warn you.

Fairytale Eggplant with Summer Squash


20 or so fairytale eggplants (or any eggplant)
1 ripe tomato, seeded and chopped
2 shallots, finely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1/4 cup pine nuts
2 tbs. Parmesan cheese
1 cup uncooked brown rice
eight or so radicchio leaves
five or six leaves of fresh basil, chopped
salt + pepper
Olive Oil


Cook the brown rice according to the instructions on the package. Wash and remove the tops of the eggplant, slice in half, lay in a colander and sprinkle with salt. Let sit for about half and hour to draw out some of the water. Blot the eggplant dry with a paper towel. Add the garlic and shallots to a frying pan or skillet and saute over medium heat in a few tablespoons of olive oil until soft. Add the eggplant, summer squash and tomato. Cook about fifteen minutes covered, or until everything is nice and soft and cooked all the way through. Salt if needed and toss with the basil just before serving. Meanwhile, in a toaster oven, toast the pine nuts until golden. To serve, lay a few radicchio leaves down on a plate. Spoon a little brown rice in the center, about 1/2 a cup. Then lay a good amount of the eggplant and squash over the rice, sprinkle a few tablespoons of pine nuts on top and a few pinches of Parmesan cheese. 

Alice Water's Eggplant Caviar

I was a water baby. Not born into a tub of water but rather swimming with my mother at a very early age, way before teeth or words or long hair came into the picture. There are photographs of me in my birthday suit, held by my mother in her one piece at the Philadelphia YMCA pool, dark from the low lighting, except for the rippling aquamarine water.

Later we were members of the Lombard Swim Club, and their colorful kiddie pool with a wall of spouting water and flowers, was pure magic. I can still taste their sweet and tangy fruit cup with wedges of peeled grapefruit, and smell the air perfumed with chlorine and suntan lotion.

In my camp years we had swimming lessons every day in a cold, spring fed pool out in Chester County, learning the crawl, side stroke, breast stroke, and attempting the butterfly. Then when I was too old to go, swimming for me pretty much stopped. I'd go to the neighbors for a dip or to the beach with a friend, but for the most part swimming became a childhood memory.

Until about a month ago. Chris and I discovered a pool nearby that we can actually afford, and with a swipe of my credit card, we were members. I was a swimmer again. It's an indoor pool that requires swim caps so on our first day there we giggled at our get-ups. Getting over the initial ridiculousness of our smooth shiny noggens, there is actually a wonderful anonymity that comes from being in a room where everyone has on a suit, swim cap and goggles, heads down, except to come up for air.

The other day as I was crawling out to the deep-end, where the floor of the pool suddenly drops several feet, and you feel a little like you're flying, I meditated on dinner. What should we have? I saw the answer in the little bubbles of air all around me, eggplant caviar. Chris had recently bought me Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters, and a nice dinner of bread, eggplant caviar, and sardines sounded good as I turned to complete a lap.

The recipe advises letting the caviar cool, and serving on grilled toast but I couldn't wait that long, and served it hot with fresh bread, it was still delicious. I did notice however, that after a night in the fridge the flavors improved, and grew more rich, so use your judgement.

I hope that wherever you may be this summer, that in the heat of an afternoon, you can find a nice pool or lake, and take a refreshing dip, the answer to "What's for dinner?" may be swimming all around. And if you happen to be a member of the Lombard Swim Club, you are one lucky duck.

Alice Water's Eggplant Caviar

1 large globe eggplant

salt + pepper

olive oil

2 shallots

balsamic or red wine vinegar

1 clove garlic

1/4 cup chopped parsley or cilantro

Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees.

Peel the eggplant and cut into 1-inch cubes. Put the eggplant in a baking dish, season liberally with salt and pepper, and toss with a generous amount of olive oil. Sprinkle with a few tablespoons water, cover tightly, and bake in the oven (or toaster oven) for 30 to 40 minutes, until very soft.

While the eggplant is baking, peel and dice the shallots very fine. Let them macerate for about 10 minutes in about 2 tablespoons of the vinegar. Peel and mash the garlic and add it to the shallots and vinegar. When the eggplant is done, add it to the shallot and garlic mixture, mashing with a fork, and let it cool to room temperature.

Stir in the chopped parsley or cilantro (or a combination of both) and adjust seasoning. Add additional olive oil and vinegar to taste. Serve on grilled bread.

Serves 4.

For a meal serve with salad, sardines and a few good cheeses.

Baked Polenta and Flourless Chocolate Cake

When the sun won't shine, make polenta.

Spending the past week on Fire Island has been a dream. The narrow, bamboo lined pathways that crisscross the island divide it into a beachy secret garden of sorts. Little bicycle bells ping, waves crash, and breezes blow gently here. Heaven.

Chris and I joke that whenever we go on vacation it rains. We once abandoned sweltering Manhattan for a day at Jones Beach only to sit on a boardwalk bench braving frigid hurricane winds and a spiky mist. Bound in our beach towels, with squinted eyes, and chattering teeth we gazed out at an empty beach, maybe if we waited ten more minutes the clouds would break. Any minute now....a-n-y-m-i-n-u-t-e....

Five minutes later we were eating mediocre pizza and back on the train. 

This week, with all it's gloriously lazy afternoons and sloppy ice cream cones, has been overcast with a chance of showers, every day. Since beach bumming isn't an option, my friend Anna and I whipped up some baked polenta yesterday, a bright, sunny dish with eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes and goat cheese. It's summer on a plate. We followed it up with some flour-less chocolate cake and a screening of Body Double. 

In August Chris and I have a trip to Nag's Head, North Carolina planned, I'll hope for sun but this time it might be cloudy with a chance of tar balls. 

Baked Polenta

1 cup Polenta

1 zucchini, sliced into thin rounds

1 eggplant, sliced into thin rounds

3 medium sized tomatoes

1/2 cup goat cheese

2 cloves garlic, minced

salt + pepper

Cook 1 cup of polenta according to the cooking instructions on the package along with 1/4 cup of grated Parmesan cheese stirred in at the end. Pour into an 11 X 7 casserole pan, smooth to even out and chill in the refrigerator until set.

Pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees.

In a saute pan, heat up a few tablespoons of olive oil and cook the garlic until fragrant, then add and cook in batches, the eggplant, zucchini and tomatoes until golden and tender. Season with salt and pepper as you go. 

When the polenta is firm you can leave as is and layer the vegetables on top or, turn it out and slice into 1/4 slices to be layered with the vegetables like a lasagna. Season with salt and pepper as you go, toss in a little more garlic or some fresh herbs if you like, top with crumbled goat cheese and bake for twenty minutes until the cheese gets little golden caps. Serve hot.

It also really great for breakfast with a poached egg on top, Anna's brilliant idea.

Flourless Chocolate Cake from Gourmet Magazine

Downtown Fire Island at Night