eggplants & vehicles

"Eggplants are vehicles for flavor."

Over the years, I've drawn on these wise words of my good friend, Evan, many a time while in the kitchen.

While other vegetables are also vehicles for flavor -mushrooms, zucchini, and tofu- the versatile eggplant is one of my familiar favorites:

red sesame sauces the eggplant

First, a brief overview on how I classify eggplants into the following two types: prime and over-ripe.

If preparing the eggplant is an intimidation, what of purchasing and knowing when an eggplant is ripe?

eggplant do's

The 'prime' eggplant will have shiny skin and a body that is firm to the grip.

The skin color should be a deep forest indigo, with nary an undesirable brown patch. Whiteness at the stalk or base indicates a young, 'prime' eggplant.

The inner flesh should be white and a solid sponge-like mass. The seeds will not yet be visible. The flesh may still be slightly green near the skin, but this is not a problem.

A 'prime' eggplant -in my kitchen- is actually a bit under-ripe, green at the ends - just as I like my bananas!

eggplant don'ts

The skin of an 'over-ripened' eggplant will be soft and showing signs of wrinklage. If a gentle squeeze leaves an impression, do not buy! Of course, if the eggplant is already in your house, there are ways of reviving it (see below).

The resulting inner flesh will be limp and beginning to show brown variegated lines; the seeds are visible and maturing, creating a texture sensation that brings a wrinkle to the nose.

water good

A tip on maintaining freshness: eggplants like water.

If the eggplant starts to deflate with age, float it in a tub of water (before cutting it in anyway) and it will slowly [and mostly] rehydrate into its original shape and firmness. However, if the skin has already browned, I do not recommend this; it will take on water like a leaky boat!

Likewise, if after cutting you soak it, a soggy sponge you will find. This is not recommended.

to skin or not to skin

As for eating, the naturally tough skin of a young eggplant turn off many, and thus they miss out on the wonderful flesh of the eggplant.

A cultural note that I have learned while living in the East: Northern Chinese tend to remove the skin. Southern Chinese leave the skin on. And both turn their nose up at the other's doing!

I usually spare the skin, for reasons of adding color, diversifying texture, and retaining vitamins. If I properly roast the eggplant wedges before adding any water to steam, I find that the skins acquire a paper-like texture, breaking down for greater palatability.

But for the staunchly eggplant wary, the skin can be easily removed, without any upset to most recipes.

the knife

One last tip on cutting: The Chinese cut oblong vegetables on a quarter turn (i.e., slice at an angle, turn 90º, slice at an angle, turn 90º, etc.)

This ensures that every chunk has some skin on it, while also ensuring that each chunk is mostly flesh.

It also serves a thermal application by allowing the wedges to cook up nicely around the thinner edges while staying a bit firmer at the center.

the recipe: red sesame sauces the eggplant

I cooked up this particular dish, pictured above, in my kitchen last year, on the fly and with great results.

Unfortunately, I had not measured accurately, so I can only offer the below approximation:

ingredients

2-3 T vegetable oil
6-8 cloves garlic
1-in ginger, peeled
1 eggplant, large oblong
water, to steam
35-70 g tomato sauce
1 dollop sesame paste
1 T sugar
salt, to taste
spring onions, to garnish

method

Meanwhile, peel the garlic and ginger, and then smash them [individually] with the broadside of the knife blade.

Meanwhile, heat a generous amount of vegetable oil in a wok over medium flame.

A secret of mine is to drop a tiny clove of garlic in the oil right away; when it starts to sizzle, the oil is primed for adding vegetables. The fragrance serves as a nasal reminder and the sizzling offers an audible warning that the oil is cooking away, should I be minding the makings of another dish.

Mince, then sauté the smashed garlic and ginger over medium flame until golden.

Chop the eggplant into wedges, starting at one end and by turning 90º with each cut. Add directly to the garlic and ginger and oil, and continue tossing over medium heat:

roast, roast, roast my... eggplant

Roast the eggplant, adding a bit of oil to the bottom of the wok, so as to prevent burning. When the skins are sufficiently starting to paperfy, add water as necessary and cover with lid, to steam:

almost good enough to eat right now

Before the eggplant softens through, move the entire mass of eggplant, garlic, and ginger up the side of the wok, making way for the next step.

Add the tomato sauce, sesame paste, sugar, and salt (to taste) at once to the center of the pot, stirring as it boils:

caramelized goodness

The sauce will caramelize into a flavor sensation that can then be tossed with the eggplant.

Lastly, garnish with fresh or roasted sesame seeds and slivered spring onions:

ready to serve and savor

This dish keeps well, over the lowest flame, until the dinner bell rings -making it one of the few Chinese-style dishes that can suffer through a wait, if necessary.

Serve over a bed of fluffy white rice -or wheat noodles- and share with friends!

As this dish above shows, the eggplant is one vegetable vehicle worth a culinary ride!

(Thank you, Daydra, for inspiring the content of this post with your question!)

Note: Access to Blogger is still blocked within China. Without access to a much-appreciated VPN (proxy), I would be unable to publish to my blog from within mainland China. Thus, I am blessed and grateful to be sharing. With every post, I hereby protest the oppressive nature of the Chinese government blocking access to any part of the web.

eggs benedicite

Making eggs in Beijing can be an exciting deviation from the regular breakfast duty...

the delicious eggs benedicite

Last year, my roommate's mother would visit from Tianjin, a coastal city some 3 hours East of Beijing by slow train. In fact, Auntie would more so *visit* Tianjin and *reside* in Beijing to cook and clean for her 21-yr old daughter, who was self-studying French and supposed to be looking for a job.

Auntie grew up on the farm and still found comfort in taking the longer road. She conserved gray water for later flushing the toilet instead of using *clean* water. She made steamed buns from scratch, along with stuffed buns, date buns, dumplings, salads, sweet potato porridge, and fried eggs.

And I was quite the lucky girl for having many opportunities to taste her many delectable dishes; here, I will share with you the rewards of just one of her dishes, but not without a savory twist.


the fried egg

I learned from Auntie that the best of eggs are fried, one at a time, in a wok with plenty of oil and just the right amount of salt. The edges are crispy, the center soft. And unlike the typical attempt at cooking up an egg, this version of the fried egg stays in one piece as you lift it from the pan and onto your plate.

Of course, no recipe would pass through my hands without some altering, and here is the story of two lil' country eggs that got fried in the big city:

It was a chilly morning in the last days of the 3rd Moon. Not only were there one too many egglings in the basket, but the collective shivering was akin to the chattering of teeth. They could stand it no more and were ready to crack.

There was only one thing to do, and that was for the most brave and martyrous of the egglings to embrace the deshelling of innocence and venture into the Kitchen Unknown, referred to in lore as the Hot Oil Baths of the Land of Wok.

Egglings no more would they be; their destiny would be realized and they were ready for the frying. But little did they know, for the Hot Oil Baths of the Land of Wok was to be just the beginning of one sweet and spicy tale...

the real story

...Don't be shy with the oil. Plain vegetable oil will suffice, and the wok ought to begin with a shallow pool of oil about the diameter equal to the length of an egg. Place the wok over a med-high flame.

Once the oil has heated to temp, carefully crack open the egg and drop the egg into the shallow pool of oil. The water content of the egg will cause a sizzle and pop, and a pot lid serves two purposes here: 1) to shelter the splattering of hot oil, and 2) to steam the egg from above. A sprinkle of salt wishes them well on their way.

secret of the "over-medium" egg: steam

A fried egg is best handled in one piece, and the setting of the whites atop the yolk helps to firm up the egg in its entirety.

the egg wades bravely in oil

When the edges of the egg have turned a crisp golden and the top has clouded over, remove the cover and carefully slide a thin metal spatula under the egg, transferring to a warmed plate with lid. Repeat with twice as many eggs as there are hungry waiting mouths.

the romance of Chinese dining is kindled here: garlic and ginger

With the leftover oil from frying the eggs still heating, quickly add the minced garlic and ginger and toss, sauteing until golden. A medium flame will ensure that the sugars do not caramelize too quickly at the edges before the centers have softened.

brown sugar and spice

When the garlic and ginger threaten to jump out of the wok, satisfy their yearnings with the sweetness of brown sugar (jujube molasses sugar picture above) and the spice of red pepper flakes. The sizzling will cease and the mix will become viscous with everything that Buddhism shuns.

the finish: vinegar and salt bath

When the sugar has softened, add white vinegar and the salt. The mix will turn back into a wet sauce and take only a moment over the flame before begging to be poured over the eggs.

Though the heat of the spice is countered near perfectly by the sweet of the sugar, a bit of crunch will further satisfy any dental sulkings.

For this, simply slice up a [long, skinny, firm] Chinese cucumber and top with salt and sugar before dousing with white vinegar. Shake well for a thorough coating; this version of sweet and sour pickles is meant to have a bite, i.e., should be strong like a pickle, not delicate like a salad:

sweet and spicy meets the crunch: fried eggs benedicite

And not only were the egglings fried in the end as expected, but so too were baptized in the sweet and spicy waters where a tangy pickle awaited their savory succulence.

The End.

ingredients: eggs benedicite

vegetable•oil
2 country•eggs
sprinkle•of•white•salt

vegetable•oil
1/2 bulb•garlic
1/2" ginger•root
1/2 t brown•sugar
1/2 t red•pepper•flakes
1 T+ white•vinegar
1/2 t white•salt

1 sliced•cucumber
1 t white•sugar
1 t white•salt
2 T white•vinegar