Purple Haze

Strolling around Valu-Mart the other night while pondering what to cook and consume in ravenous fashion, I came across a big bin sitting in the middle of the produce section. It had about 20 people around it and they were all scrambling to get at whatever goodies were inside. Just like one can often choose a good restaurant based on how busy it, I figured whatever was in the box must be culinary gold based on the crowd around it.

I love being a big fat bald white guy sometimes. It works out especially well when everyone around me is 5-foot-nothing and timid. One authoritative "Excuse me, please." and the crowd parts ways. Like Moses and the Red Sea baby.

What I found in the bin were some perfectly ripe eggplants. And they were three for a dollar. I haven't bought anything for that kind of price since 1992. So my hand was forced. I grabbed three exra-terrestrial looking orbs and headed for the cash register. Eggplant. It's a vegetable. How hard can it be?

Turns out, eggplant is a pain in the ass and then some. I knew you had to purge it with salt for a little while, but to make those things edible requires a certain technique, and last night, I was totally out of my league.

I did learn this:

You cannot slice off a 3/4 inch chunk of eggplant, salt it for a half hour, bread it and then fry it and have something palatable. There is no amount of olive oil or even butter that could have saved my eggplant from a purple and parmesan coated grave. I think that it may be arguable that when Jimmy Hendrix was singing about "Purple Haze", he may have just had a really bad eggplant trip, man.

The end result was so bitter, I could swear it was almost weapons grade. My mouth was actually sore for hours afterward. I've had eggplant before so I can't say I am allergic to it, but tonight I am once again defeated by my kitchen. Defeated and fascinated. How could one thing be so unpalatable in one form, and delicious in it's cooked form, AND have a nice long and relatively difficult means of prep required to make it?

I have not given up on this purple Barney the Dinosaur egg-sack yet though. I'll be back tomorrow, armed with a font of knowledge on how to really, REALLY turn this purple bitter bomb into a purple masterpiece worth singing about.