Okey Dokey, we got a boxy today (box of produce from Los Poblanos). It had all sorts of interesting things in it: Spinach, tomatoes, cherries, cucumbers, basil, peaches, celery, broccoli, cantaloupe and, well, eggplant.
Now I like eggplant Parmesan. Not a chance in this world I’d ever make it, though – slicing, salting, breading, frying, layering, baking. Yeah, right.
So, I Googled several recipies and decided to try this: http://southernfood.about.com/od/eggplantrecipes/r/bl50418a.htm (mainly because I had all the ingredients.)
It is a thunderstormy day here and, because my house is old and creaky, it rains inside as well as out. Also, the dog is terrified of thunderstorms. So, I a had a 60lb chickendog glued to me. I thought I started out well. Salted water was boiling, eggplants were peeled, cubed, and lobbed in there.
When the timer went off, I mixed in the tomatoes and such, then discovered that, ummm, well, you aren’t supposed to. However, it all gets mixed together eventually in your stomach so I overlooked that little problem. Then there was the fact that I didn’t have “garlic salt.” I had garlic and I had salt. Blithely continuing with the “everything mixes together” theory, I added fresh garlic and salt and whipped open the oven for the baking portion of the festivities. Because, you know, I had turned to to 475 to preheat.
However, the stinking pilot light had gone out. For the uninitiated, oven pilot lights are back in the mysterious depths of the spider and dust filled “warming drawer” that no one uses for anything except to store cookie sheets. Alas, the microwave would just turn it to slush. I had to fix this. Sigh.
Pluckily, I got out the box of matches, cranked the gas, and struck one. It briefly flared to life, but disintegrated, nearly igniting the dog. Something about this reminded me of the fact that most people who get caught in gas explosions are just trying to relight pilot lights. I made the dogs back off, crouched down, and tried again. The match caught and I waved it vaguely and unsuccessfully in the general region.
Honestly, why do they put the pilot light in the back of the bottom of the inside of the stove? Oven manufacturers are idiots. I had to lie on the floor, fending off dog slobbers, and stick my hand way in there, waving the match around where it seemed likely the light was located. I became way too familiar with the fact that I never clean that portion of the oven and I live in a dusty region. With spiders.
However, eventually, it lit, I stuck the casserole dish in and set the timer. The house smells wonderfully of garlicy eggplant tomato goodness and I am reaaaallllly hungry.
But, I still think oven designers are idiots.
