It All Started with Eggplant

There are times in midsummer when it's hard to resist the well-rounded shape and shiny aubergine color of an eggplant. "Now or never," it seems to cry out. So you convince yourself once again that you DO like ratatouille, some of the time. And you're suddenly reminded of a recipe that an old buddy from Bookmen gave you years ago called Monsieur Henri's Eggplant that was very easy to put together. And you begin to imagine the Provençal lift that preparing such a dish will provide as the aromas of rosemary and basil and garlic fill the kitchen.

You need a lift, because you've just left the office of a physical therapist who's given you a few simple stretching exercises that are suppose to alleviate (though it seems highly improbable) the chronic leg pain you've been suffering for a month; the result of an obscure condition called illiotibial band syndrome that you developed as a result of playing tennis or traversing the trails at Elm Creek Regional Park with undue gusto. Who knows?

Suddenly a new idea takes shape: "Let's make something new with that eggplant." And so we did.

The eggplant itself gets peeled and baked, then pulverized in the food processor along with some sautéed garlic and anchovies. Meanwhile, you sauté some capers and chopped red peppers and toast some slices of bread in the oven.

You can imagine what comes next: slather the toast with the eggplant puree and top with peppers and capers. Delicious!

That might have been the end of it, but the recipe called for only a few anchovies, and even after doubling the quantity, we were left with half a can. What to do? What to do?

Just this morning I saw four little potatoes sitting on the kitchen counter. Eureka! Salade Nicoise. I boiled the potatoes and drenched them in a vinaigrette while they were still hot, then boiled some frozen green beans in the same water. I took a stroll out to the garden plot alongside the driveway and harvested a bit of basil, though it's not doing well. (The sage, as usual, is thriving.)

And all the while, I had an old CD mix going on the stereo that must be at least a quarter-century old. I call it my cheesy Brazilian mix, but it's really quite good, with several numbers each by Marisa Monte, Lee Konitz, Flora Purim, Chet Baker, and a few artists I no longer recognize.

I'll assemble the salad when Hilary gets home from the potting studio.  Now it's time to get back to work. 

But I have no work!

Perhaps it's time to sit in the shade on the deck and enjoy the cool August morning, while waiting for a hummingbird to appear at the feeder. That feeder had been hanging against the wall in the garage for years. The other day we brought it outside and attached it to the pole on the feeder, and the hummingbirds arrived within the hour.