The aim of this blog is primarily to post original recipes (well, insofar as any recipe is original – if the recipe is worth blogging about, it’s likely to owe to numerous things I’ve read, and then forgotten I’ve read, over the years). This decision was born out of necessity: I am terrible at following recipes. I like reading about various flavor combinations, but then I tend to willfully go my own way in the preparation. This is part of the reason that I’m a lazy and lousy baker. (Despite that, we’re making our own wedding cake. Eek. Methinks we’ll be constantly on the phone to my wonderful Mother-in-Law-to-be, who’s a master baker, during wedding baking week!)
Anyway, as the title of this post suggests, I am about to offer you a recipe that didn’t originate with me. But I think I’ll occasionally post existing recipes that I’ve adapted significantly. I don’t mean adaptations like substituting scallions for shallots, because that’s all I had in the crisper – but rather recipes where I took the author’s basic idea, and reworked it in a way that better suits my tastes, inclinations, or (in this case) my level of patience.
This brings me to a woman who’s frequently tested my patience: Delia Smith, the iconic British cookbook writer. I have a deeply ambivalent relationship with Delia. On the one hand, watching her cooking show on Australian television as a kid augmented my interest in cooking tremendously. When my Mum subsequently bought me How to Cook, I read it almost obsessively. When I was learning my way about the kitchen, I was grateful for her detailed instructions, and precise measurements. In fact, there are many culinary tasks I still instinctively do Delia’s way in consequence.
On the other hand, her detailed instructions and precise measurements now tend to irritate the hell out of me. In baking, sure, measure measure measure: I know, I know. But watching my Mother make Delia’s bubble and squeak was an eye-opener. A British dish that’s supposed to be thrown together out of leftovers (mashed potatoes and cabbage primarily) took over an hour to make, since you had to weigh everything (even the parsley) down to the ounce, and grate everything by hand. Come on, Delia: surely this is false precision.
Typically, a recipe that specifies (say) a handful of parsley is much more endearing to me than one that specifies (say) 2.764 oz of parsley. For one thing, I can eyeball a handful at the store and at home, whereas I rarely have a clue what an ounce of something looks like. For another, I can use a little more or less parsley depending on how I want the dish to taste, and how much I happen to have in the house. And let’s be honest: in the majority of dishes, a little more or less parsley won’t make a whole lot of difference.
Anyway, despite the aforementioned complaints, I’ve made Delia’s recipe for Tunisian Aubergine Salad many a time (she adapted it herself from Elizabeth David, but I’ve never found the original recipe). The dish is wonderful melange of the spicy, the sweet, and the savory, and is one of my favorite vegetarian dishes (it’s actually vegan if you skip the final benediction of yoghurt). But, predictably, making it is such a palaver. Having to salt the aubergines (called eggplants over here), skinning the tomatoes, and toasting and grinding the spices is quite bad enough. But letting the whole thing sit in the fridge while you wait, wanly and hungrily, for at least 24 hours? Torture. I had the feeling that I could create something just as good with far less fuss. Happily, I was proved correct. I practically licked the plate clean.
Ingredients:
2 large eggplants, or 3 small/medium ones (I used oriental eggplants)
2 large tomatoes, or 3 small/medium ones
1 onion (I used red), diced
2 teaspoons ras el hanout
3 tsp olive oil (= 1 tbsp, divided use)
A handful fresh cilantro, rough-chopped
A handful fresh mint, rough-chopped
Kosher salt
For the harissa yoghurt (optional but good):
2 tbsp Greek yoghurt (I used Fage 0% fat)
½ tsp harissa (or to taste)
A small pinch of good salt
Method:
Preheat the oven to 450°F (230°C).
Chop the eggplant into bite-sized cubes. Toss them about in a teaspoon of the olive oil and give them a rather generous sprinkle of salt.
Halve or quarter the tomatoes, and brush them with an additional teaspoon of the olive oil and sprinkle them with some more salt.
Place the eggplant and tomatoes (cut-side up) on a non-stick or lightly oiled baking sheet, and roast for about 30 minutes, or until they are soft and becoming caramelized.
Meanwhile, combine the ingredients for the harissa yoghurt (if you’re making it), and adjust for seasoning.
Then, put a pan over medium heat, and slick it with the remaining teaspoon of olive oil. Add the onion, the ras el hanout, and a pinch of salt. Sauté until the onions are soft.
Then, stir in the tomatoes and eggplants (stir gently – you want the tomatoes to give off enough juice to make the dish cohere, but you want the wedges to retain their integrity.)
When the mixture reaches a gentle simmer, remove the pan from the heat, and stir in the herbs. Taste, and adjust for seasoning.
Add a dollop of the harissa yoghurt (if you’re using it). Now, eat this immediately, if not sooner.
Serves 2-3.
A bit of context: I ate this with some lovely marinated anchovies on the side. Highly recommended if you’re not a vegetarian! It's also terrific with a fried or hard-boiled egg on top.
P.S. This, I submit, is How to Cheat. Chocolate cake made with discs of frozen mashed potato (scroll halfway down the page for the recipe), I fear, is not. What on earth were you thinking, Delia? You nearly made me cry.