Two stuffings in each aubergine, actually: first, the scooped-out flesh mixed with tomato, capers and anchovies, and the second made from breadcrumbs whizzed with tomato, herbs and olive oil
Rachel Roddy
An aubergine hangs above my desk; it is on a tablecloth that looks like a latticed jam tart, beside a plate of pasta, a pair of binoculars and the sea, from which two tiny figures wave. There is also a hot dog, an apricot, the start of a letter and a glass filled with red and pink that could be Campari or cherry. It is a print by the Sicilian artist Lia Fiore; a psychedelic, summer daydream that provides me with an ideal escape at least once a day, and often reminds me that I’m hungry, for pasta, or for aubergine with plenty of salt and oil. Fortunately, there are aubergines in the kitchen, too – Vincenzo calls them the keenest vegetable, ready to soak up anything you give them.
Advice is mixed when it comes to salting. In the past, aubergines were inherently bitter, and salting was a way of breaking down the cells in order to draw out that bitterness in the form of drops. There is another effect, too: apparently, less water means less oil is absorbed in the subsequent cooking, which is why, even with modern varieties carefully bred to be sweeter and free from excessive bitterness, salting is sometimes suggested. Although not by me, because I think the amount is negligible, plus I always fry or bake them in good-tasting olive oil. Astringency, though, the puckering kind, is often an issue with very young or mature fruit that has done time in cold storage. So, when faced with those (and if I have time), I sprinkle the slices with coarse salt and leave them to sit for 30 minutes, before brushing off any water droplets and salt and blotting them dry. Another benefit of salting is that, even when the coarse salt is brushed away, some seasoning is left. Inspiration this week comes from the countless recipes that call for aubergine halves to be hollowed out and the flesh cooked with other things, before being packed back in like a roof-rack box for a family camping holiday. In Sicily, such recipes are sometimes called tabacchiera di melanzane, or aubergine snuff boxes – the parliamentary snuff box being a better comparison. My version has two stuffings: the first of scooped-out aubergine flesh mixed with tomato, capers and anchovies, and the second soft white breadcrumbs pulsed with a bit more tomato, herbs and olive oil, which bake into a crisp and golden cover. Use a wide spatula to lift them carefully on to a serving plate, then let them sit for about 10 minutes (or longer), so the flavours can settle. Salted yoghurt is welcome here, or a chopped salad of tomato, cucumber and red onion; alternatively, cubes of roast potatoes or a glass of Campari.
Stuffed aubergines
Serves 4
2 medium-large or 4 small aubergines
Coarse salt
1 bunch spring onions, trimmed, white and green parts finely diced
6 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for the crumbs and tin of garlic
3 medium ripe tomatoes, peeled and roughly chopped
4 anchovy fillets (optional)
1 tbsp capers, rinsed
100g soft white breadcrumbs
1 handful parsley, roughly chopped
1 tsp dried oregano
Cut the aubergines in half lengthways. Using a spoon, scoop out the flesh to create boats, being careful not to puncture shell, and leaving about 5mm flesh still attached all around the skin. Sprinkle the insides with coarse salt and leave upside down to drain while you make filling. Chopped the scooped-out aubergine flesh. In a frying pan on a medium-low heat, gently fry all the diced spring onion in the olive oil until soft, then add the aubergine and fry, stirring, for about five minutes. Add two-thirds of the chopped tomato, the anchovies and capers, and fry, stirring, for another five minutes. In a blender, pulse the breadcrumbs, remaining tomato, two teaspoons of olive oil, the parsley, oregano and a pinch of salt to a rough rubble.
Brush the salt from the aubergine boats, blot the insides dry and arrange on a greased oven tray. Share the fried filling between all four boats, then do the same with the crumbs, pressing down so the filling is compact. Zig-zag with olive oil and bake at 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4 for 30-40 minutes, until the shells are soft and the tops golden. Leave to sit for about 10 minutes (or longer) before serving.
{{#ticker}}
{{topLeft}}
{{bottomLeft}}
{{topRight}}
{{bottomRight}}
{{#goalExceededMarkerPercentage}}
{{/goalExceededMarkerPercentage}}
{{/ticker}}
{{heading}}
{{#paragraphs}}
{{.}}
{{/paragraphs}}{{highlightedText}}
{{#choiceCards}}
{{/choiceCards}}
We will be in touch to remind you to contribute. Look out for a message in your inbox in . If you have any questions about contributing, please contact us.
Topics
- Italian food and drink
- A kitchen in Rome
- Food
- Vegetables
- Bread
- Main course
- Tomatoes
- Fish
- recipes
- Share on Facebook
- Share on Twitter
- Share via Email
- Share on LinkedIn
- Share on WhatsApp
- Share on Messenger
View on theguardian.com
