The mysteries of eggplant

I love to watch a good mystery. I mean, who doesn’t? It’s so satisfying to follow along as clues get dropped like so many breadcrumbs, but they don’t seem to lead anywhere specific until the detective — flawed, but genius — arranges them just so and lays out the path to … a murderer.

I thought the genre might be dead, at least on the screen, but then we started getting movies like “Knives Out” and its sequels and shows like “The Residence” and “Only Murders in the Building.” Even the flawed ones — and I count “Only Murders” as one of those — are usually fun to watch. And then there’s my current favorite, “Poker Face,” which turns the typical sequence around, “Columbo”-style, and reveals the murderer at the outset, leaving the audience to focus on the detective’s surprising path to a reveal.

Eggplant is a mystery that drops its clues slowly, and it turns out that the solutions are almost as numerous. (In that way, it reminds me of “Murder on the Orient Express”: They all did it!)

Here are the clues, with some of the solutions built right into my explanations.

When you cook eggplant for the first time, the outcome — or even the process, really — might be, well, unexpected. Cut it too thick for roasting, and don’t add enough oil, and it might turn out burned in parts and undercooked (the dreaded dry sponge) in others. Roast it whole, and forget to cut some slits in its flesh, and it might end up plastered to the walls of your oven. Grill or smoke it until it collapses, and you might get only 1/2 cup flesh when you scrape it from its blackened skin. And how does it seem to soak up more than its own volume in oil? There’s nothing like it.

On the positive side, when you cook it right, you can end up with a silky texture, flavor that’s nutty and even a little sweet. And that 1/2 cup of flesh, especially when you grill it, will carry the most swoon-inducing flavor, even if you charred over gas or on the stovetop, because it seems to smoke itself. Hello, baba ghanouj. There’s nothing like it.

Eggplant’s unique raw texture — yes, that sponge-like flesh — needs to be tamed. The good news is, many techniques work. If you haven’t tried one or more that works for you, here are some ways to go:

• Generously salt the cut eggplant and let it sit for a while. That draws out excess moisture and collapses those cell walls, keeping the eggplant from absorbing so much oil and helping concentrate its flavor. (Some say salting also reduces the bitterness, but I honestly don’t find eggplant all that bitter, nor do I mind bitter flavors anyhow!)

• Brush rather than drizzle with oil, which allows you to better distribute and control the amount.

• Accept the fact that oil and eggplant are good friends, and try one of the many dishes that acknowledge that. Try the Turkish classic imam bayildi, which translates to “the imam fainted,” in reaction to how much oil went into the dish when it was first invented. Delicious.

• Vary your varieties, and try smaller, younger, fresher eggplant. I think the Asian eggplants — long and skinny — are just great to work with, easy to cut because they’re tube shaped, and much less likely to be bitter, if that’s something that tends to bother you about eggplant.

And there’s one more, really the point of all my rambling today and the technique used in this week’s recipe.

In all the common cooking techniques I see about eggplant, there’s just one cuisine that regularly mentions what has become my absolute favorite, the way to quickly and easily cook eggplant that turns its interior custardy in a mere 15 minutes, without the use of a single drop of oil. It’s counterintuitive, because rather than drawing out moisture, this technique bathes the eggplant in it.

I’m talking about steaming.

I first read of it when cooking a Chinese recipe, which makes sense because Chinese cooks are masters at steaming. When I tried it, I marveled at the result. The gentle, moist heat causes the eggplant flesh to, yes, collapse, rendering it unbelievably pleasant to eat. When you leave the skin on and cut it into thick rounds, the pieces hold together but yield to even the slightest pressure of a fork. I’ve seen Chinese-style steamed eggplant served with all sorts of sauces, so I felt free to go my own way, but I keep the spirit of Chinese flavors. For “Mastering the Art of Plant-Based Cooking,” I combined it with a sauce I initially concocted for “Cool Beans”: a double-black-bean sauce that uses Chinese black bean garlic sauce plus a can of black beans. The sauce is powerful, a perfect partner for the silky eggplant — and brilliant with rice or noodles (or on its own).

I use long, skinny Asian eggplant for this, but any variety works, truly. (And there are so many, including white ones that originally inspired the name.) The only difference will be the diameter of the rounds you cut.

By the way, I’m married to an avowed eggplant hater. The Husband practically gags at the very thought of it. I’ve successfully served him two eggplant dishes he likes, though: One is that baba ghanouj. Puree the eggplant, and he doesn’t mind so much, so once when I had some leftover cooked eggplant in the fridge, I turned it into a pasta sauce that he adored — until I told him what it was. My mistake.

I thought that maybe, just maybe, the steamed treatment would be  another chink in his eggplant armor. (Boy, eggplant armor would be pretty worthless and messy in battle, but I digress.) I was wrong. Maybe it’s because he knew what it was in advance (will I never learn?), but this was a no-go.

For those of you who love or even merely like eggplant, though, this one is a champion, and I can’t wait to hear what you think after you try it.

What are your favorite clues that your eggplant has been murdered? Do you have favorite solutions? I’d love to hear them in the comments, and I know your fellow readers would, too!

I break for animals:
Teddy

Recipe: Steamed Eggplant with Black Bean Sauce

If you’ve never tried steaming eggplant, please do: It turns the vegetable soft and custardy without making it mushy. I prefer to use skinny Asian eggplants for this, but you can substitute baby Italian eggplants—or big ones, cut into large cubes instead of rounds. (Keeping the peel on helps the steamed eggplant keep its shape.) The topping is a vast simplification/riff on Chinese fermented black bean sauce, using prepared black bean garlic sauce plus a can’s worth of decidedly nontraditional conventional black beans, a combination I first explored for my cookbook Cool Beans. Red pepper flakes, peanuts, and scallions add crunch and punch. Serve with noodles, rice, or another grain of your choice.

joeyonan

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Makes 4 servings
Storage: Refrigerate for up to 4 days.

¼ teaspoon fine sea salt
1 pound (450g) long skinny Asian eggplant (2 to 3), unpeeled and cut into rounds 1 inch (2.5cm) thick
2 tablespoons safflower, grapeseed, or other neutral oil, plus more for greasing the steamer
1 (15-ounce/425g) can black beans, drained and rinsed, or 1½ cups (300g) cooked black beans
4 scallions, thinly sliced
4 large garlic cloves, chopped
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
½ cup (120ml) mirin
¼ cup (60ml) water
3 tablespoons black bean garlic sauce
1 tablespoon hoisin sauce
1 tablespoon unseasoned rice vinegar
½ cup (75g) unsalted roasted peanuts, chopped
Cilantro leaves, for garnish

Lightly salt the eggplant rounds on both sides. Use a little oil to lightly grease a steamer basket/insert and set it into a pot with 1 to 2 inches (2.5cm to 5cm) of water in it. Bring the water to a boil over medium heat. Add the eggplant, carefully stacking if needed. Cover and steam until the eggplant is very soft when pierced with a fork or skewer but still holds its shape, 15 to 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add the beans and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Stir in about three-quarters of the scallions (saving the remaining one-quarter for garnish), garlic, and pepper flakes and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in the mirin, increase the heat to high, and cook until it mostly evaporates, 4 to 5 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-high. Stir in the water, black bean sauce, and hoisin. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to medium, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened and reduced slightly, 4 to 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the vinegar. Cover to keep warm.

Divide the steamed eggplant among serving plates, spoon the black bean sauce over the top, and garnish with the peanuts, reserved scallions, and cilantro. Serve warm.

Recipe from “Mastering the Art of Plant-Based Cooking” (Ten Speed Press, 2024). Copyright Joe Yonan.

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