I Swear It's Better Than It Looks: Boiled Eggplant Sautéd In Lamb Fat

Remember how I love eggplant? There's something absolutely delicious about how slimy it can be. It becomes soft and mushy and very mild. Different kinds, especially the long, thinner purple Asian ones, aren't as bitter as the regular pear-shaped ones. Slimmer is not always better, but it seems that in this metaphor the larger ones are bitter about their bottoms.

All joking aside, there was still a fair bit of lamb fat in the skillet after sauté-ing my potatoes, and I hate letting things that great go to waste. So I decided to sauté the eggplant that I'd boiled whole (got the idea from a Vietnamese recipe blog when researching pho) in what was left of the fat. Well the eggplant sure sucked up the leftovers! It actually started to burn. So that's why Indian and Chinese eggplant dishes are so luscious...they need a ridiculous amount of oil or fat to keep the eggplant from sticking to the wok or pot!

The result? The eggplant was bland, even with the oil. Only the texture was different, becoming a bit more slimy (which I actually like. Maybe it's an acquired taste, like oysters) with the additional oil. I did a comparison with some un-sautéd, boiled eggplant to be sure. So what I ended up doing was adding a bit of chaat masala for flavour. It was a cheat baigan bharta, but the mango powder ended up being delicious and there was more than enough salt in the masala to bring out the flavour. Now I have leftover eggplant for amazing sandwiches. I'll just sprinkle on a bit of chaat masala, add a few more vegetables and some puréed chickpeas, and die happy.

How Not To Find A New Roommate (aka "Finally! Lamb Fat!")

My roommate is leaving me.

I'm very aware that I comfort myself with food. Unlike normal people, that doesn't mean a pint of Ben & Jerry's. Ew...and it's not even a few scoops of good gelato from Caffe Romagna. For me, this is a home-cooked, well-rounded meal. Know how some people say they're too stressed to eat? Or too busy, or they forgot? Yeah, that never happens to me. Eating is something that happens three times a day and only in extreme circumstances does that waver. That doesn't mean I cook three elaborate meals a day, but I try to enjoy three pauses in the day to appreciate food, relax, and have fun.

So the fact that I haven't wanted to cook very much is sad. I don't think it's because my roommate is leaving that I haven't been cooking, but it is odd that I haven't been cooking as a comfort for the fact that my roommate is leaving. Probably it hasn't sunk in yet. A good roommate is a hard thing to find. An exceptional roommate is rare. When my roommate leaves in September for rockier pastures (Newfoundland...),

who will tell me I'm a geek for getting excited about using all four of my mixing bowls?

Who will mistake "deer" for "beer" when I make jiaozi?

Who will save the day when I leave essential duck fat in Montreal?

Who will remind me that I am a very strange young person who is comforted by saag, economical with toasted sesame seeds, and barely escapes flying pieces of rogue garlic?

These are all stellar qualities in a roommate. Yesterday was my first comfort food attempt, I think. Well, a third for comfort, a third out of curiosity, and a third out of practicality. Starting from the end and working my way back: I had a bag of new potatoes that needed to be eaten, I wanted to see if it really made a difference to sauté and roast with meat fat instead of oil, and I wanted to be satisfied by a good meal.

So I chipped away at my hunk of frozen lamb fat from making lamb broth and heated up a generous 2 tablespoons over medium-high heat in my roommate's large skillet before my potential roommate showed up to look at the apartment. You see, I'd made an appointment, despite my sadness. Always practical. I wasn't excited about it. In fact I was fairly sure it wasn't going to work out just by our first phone conversation. I am, however, a horrible judge of character, so I figured I'd let the fellow come over.This is way more fat than I ever use to sauté anything, but I wanted to make sure I got the true taste of the fat. No use jeopardizing the results. I scrubbed the potatoes and chopped them into chunks. Then when the fat was hot I tossed them in. They sizzled very nicely, and there was so much oil that I never even dreamed of adding water to help the potatoes along. After I had rotated the potatoes enough that all the sides were nicely browned, I transferred them to a roasting pan and stuck them in my preheated oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

The nice-enough-sounding potential roommate called to say he would arrive soon. Why hadn't I started dinner earlier? I hate interrupting a meal. This is not his fault. Don't hold it against him.

After about 20 minutes in the oven the potatoes were good and tender, and I tried them before sprinkling them with a little bit of fleur de sel. Suddenly the flavour exploded. The chunks of salt broke down and spread all over my tongue in each bite. A little went a long way. That was all the potatoes needed - the salt. I don't think the fat really made that much difference. If I had used 2 tbsp of oil instead of animal fat I think the potatoes would have browned just as nicely. I couldn't really taste lamb, just delicious potato. Real potatoes. "From a good farmer's market" potatoes. With my roasted chicken, it was ultimate comfort. Oh, and some farmer's market fresh eggplant and peas. Shucking takes an age, but it's worth it. If only I'd eaten them two days previously, or let them get mushy, they would have tasted nicer and less starchy. Still, they were pretty fresh, and in a world of frozen peas, that's something special.

So I had about 5 bites and then the guy who was coming to look at the apartment showed up, and it all got covered and left to stay warm. I showed him around. Typical tour, typical apartment hunting questions. Then the inevitable, "do you like to cook?" when we got to the kitchen. He didn't really cook much, but he was learning. See, I've heard that before. Everyone who doesn't cook is "learning" whether or not they have any real ambition to learn. I'm also not an about to be a taken-advantage-of kitchen teacher. Either it's my kitchen with the occasional appearance of another person, or you need to be a good cook, and inspire me a little, or at the very least, respect food. To me, you can't respect food if you can't cook it. Why does that chicken have to be organic? Why not just eat fast food all the time because it's cheaper. If you cook for yourself, pay a little attention to the world around you (you know, books or a newspaper...), and have any taste-buds at all, you'll understand the answers.

There are things to look for in a roommate. Cleanliness is big, but it depends on your mutual happiness with a certain level of cleanliness. Laziness is big, but it depends on whether it irritates the other person - is it laziness in your own life or laziness in buying kitchen paper towel?

I showed him my spice cupboard. I have a three tier cupboard of spices, organized, but in a way that probably only makes sense to me. He was impressed in a slightly overwhelmed kind of way. We talked about what I like to cook. I can go on about that...but then I remembered that while he was learning about me, I was learning nothing about him. Still, I was in the position of power. He could want to be my roommate and still I get the final say. Nice enough, he seemed, but is that good enough? Do I really want to settle so soon? It's still early. I have time.

About 3 months ago there were a ton of articles in big newspapers (the Life sections. Apparently all Life writers convene and agree on what to write internationally that week, because it all too often seems to be coordinated) and on TV shows on the subject of "settling"; how men are happier to settle and women are too picky and will never be happy. That's the gist of it. We're doomed unless we go with the guy that doesn't make us swoon, but doesn't drive us to criminal acts.

Well I'm sorry, but I've been in too many relationships, roommates and otherwise, where "I'm no longer swooning" equated to "he or she is pissing me off". The honeymoon effect. So in my mind there's no need to rush to any conclusions and jump in with the first shmo who seems like a decent guy. There's something nice about feeling completely at ease in your own apartment. I like never feeling like I'm in the way or I'm inconveniencing someone else. I like it when I'm not judged for doing ridiculous things like hanging pasta from our clothes rack next to my just-washed clothes. It's okay when I say I'll get to that mess in the morning, because I will, and it's okay when he says he'll take care of something, because he will. Mutual respect. How do you spot respect in someone you barely know?

A smarter person than me once told me that when it's right it won't feel like settling, even if it's not exactly what you imagined. Well, that's what I got out of it anyway. Maybe if that smart person had written it down for me I could properly quote it now, and feel more comforted.

So, I'm waiting. Potential roommates will come, interrupt my poorly-planned dinners, stroll through my beloved home, judge it, judge me, and leave.

If you are not this person, know that I have lots of lamb fat left and certainly will not make enough potatoes to run out anytime soon. Feel free. Make yourself at home.

Slow-Cooker Lamb Curry with Basmati Rice, Tomato Relish and Grated Cucumber Raita

This is in my top 5 recipes ever and my top 2 lamb recipes. It beats out braised lamb shank in all its forms and sauces, and only comes second to 2-day marinated leg of lamb with dried figs and poppy seeds.

Sometimes you need an excuse to make a recipe, and part 3 in the Midnight Poutine series "Greg Got A Slow-Cooker" had to be written after Greg got back from Scotland and before Greg left town for Maine for the summer. This was a 3 day window of Indian food opportunity. In came the lamb.
Now, you can't just make lamb. You need to make rice to soak up the luscious lamb juices, and then you need a yogurt, preferably with refreshing cucumber to cool down the body. You probably also need some kind of green vegetable or tomato salad. All Greg needed to worry about was the lamb, as it was the highlight of the meal, and the focus of the post.

Since he'd been in Edinburgh, he said I'd love all the "curries" there. That was the inspiration for making a lamb curry. These are not exactly traditional Indian curries, but are completely delicious. To recreate the Edinburgh curry effect for him (but better) I went to Judith Finlayson's Slow-Cooker Cookbook and found a general beef curry, substituted lamb, and knew it would be great. I love this book, and since her recipes in the slow cooker still call for whole spices, it's a lot closer to authentic Indian fare than something out of Bonnie Stern, much as I respect her. Judith Finlayson is no Madhur Jaffrey when it comes to Indian cooking either, mind you, but that wasn't what I was going for this time.

...and Judith lived up to my expectations. I can't describe how incredible this dish was...well, maybe I can. I bought the meat from Atwater market from a butcher who gave me the 2lbs of cubed Quebec lamb meat I wanted (not specifically organic, but I didn't want to know and I didn't ask and I couldn't afford the $40 price tage on the organic place behind me. This came to $25 and the butcher was nice) along with a big bag of bones for free to make broth. THAT is why this recipe was amazing. I made my own lamb broth. It was the best broth I have ever made, and I used the recipe from Bonnie Stern's Heartsmart Cooking. These women...I tell you, they're smart. I will do a separate post on the lamb broth because it deserves it, but not now.
The lamb...there isn't even a lot of salt in this recipe but the result was perfectly salty, the meat was perfectly tender, not falling to pieces, but just chewy enough to release flavour in each bite, and the flavour was rich...the juice was flavoured perfectly with bay leaves, cumin, coriander, chili, cloves, cardamom, black pepper, ginger and garlic, with just a little turmeric for colour.
The cubes got browned in the oil, which had been heated on medium-high and turned up a tiny bit once the meat was added. You don't want to slow-cook these things yet. You just want to sear them. I was worried they may have overcooked since they didn't really brown. I think the heat should have been higher, but it all worked out fine. The meat got moved to the slow cooker, and a little of the fat got drained from the skillet. Then the onions were added.

Judith is very reasonable about the order of adding spices. None of this 37 seconds later, 11 seconds later stuff. I won't say "nonsense" because it has never NOT worked when Jaffrey has told me to do it, but I question it...the slow-cooker recipes are made for people who don't like asting time with things like counting to odd numbers, thank goodness. So everything else got added all at once, except the stock and bay leaves. I did grind the cumin and coriander, though, since the recipe called for ground, not whole. It didn't specify if you should grind your own, but I always do this for freshness and flavour...and because I feel wasteful buying multiple versions of the same spice.These coriander and cumin seeds are not yet ground...

Then the tomatoes, then the broth. Just a half a cup. I was tempted to put in more because I had gone to all that work to just use a half cup of broth, but no, Judith would not lead me astray, and if she had I wouldn't know until later. Trust, Amie. Trust.
Everything got poured on top of the cubed meat in the slow-cooker stonewear, and mixed together. Yes, they call it "stonewear". It doesn't seem very stone-like to me. Just large, heavy and awkward, but perhaps the first slow-cooker ever was chiseled by our ancestors out of large slabs of stone off the side of a mountain somewhere. Who am I to argue with history and tradition? No one, that's who.

I set the slow-cooker to high and had waited patiently for four hours. I prepped the rice, instructed Greg on how to wash the grains (5 times) then leave them to soak. Finally, a half hour before eating time we drained the grains again, added the right amount of water and turned on the heat. We made perfect rice. He fluffed after 25 minutes, then put it back on the low, low heat for another 5. Nothing burned. It would have been a miracle if this had been 6 months ago, but now I am relatively good at making perfect rice. I am channeling my inner rice guru/Indian mother, or I can stop being so dramatic about it and just say I'm retaining knowledge for once...definition of insanity and all, not learning from your mistakes and doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results...well, not this time.
When the rice went on the ground almonds had to be added to the lamb. Then back on HIGH for 30 minutes. It looked so luscious and thick. No cream, no dairy, no coconut. I love it. The pools of grease I expected weren't even that bad, since the cubes had been decently trimmed and I'd skimmed the broth. Still, this was not a low-fat meal, and I could taste it...happily.

Chop, chop, chop tomatoes, grate, grate grate cucumbers, roast, roast, grind cumin. A little salt, a little pepper, a little cayenne, some yogurt and some parsley (wimpy cilantro) for the side dishes, and everything was ready.

There is absolutely nothing in the world like whole spices cooked on low heat for hours in a rich, meat-based sauce. Nothing. Cloves, cardamom, black peppercorns...then the almonds...so sweet and fresh. Do not use a bag of pre-ground almonds from the supermarket. Get them from a bulk place that goes through quantity fairly quickly. Turkish or Middle Eastern places are generally great, and my favourite place is currently in the Atwater market upstairs by Premiere Moisson. There are no words for the joy this meal brought me. I think the sounds I made were, in fact, not words. Just happiness. The description and representation of happiness are not words. So simple, happiness.