Dinner last night was cheesy, saucy, salty eggplant parm, which I’ve attempted to make several times before (and always failed in one way or another). Last night’s was excellent, and reminded me how much I like eggplant (some fantastic baigan bharta at Tiffin Wallah Friday night helped too). It’s easy and done in under an hour and doesn’t even require a side of linguine or garlic bread (although I’m sure there wouldn’t be complaints).

Eggplant parmesan:

• One large eggplant (you’ll only use half, if that)
• About 3/4 cup shredded parmesan
• About 3 oz fresh mozzarella
• 1 cup breadcrumbs
• 3 eggs
• 6 tbsp olive oil
• 1 jar sauce, or homemade (this was Trader Joe’s marinara)
• lots of salt, pepper, oregano, thyme, and garlic powder

1. Begin by slicing the eggplant into pieces about 1/2 inch thick. Salt them on both sides and let them sit in a colander for 15-30 minutes to let out some of the moisture. Rinse them and pat them dry.
2. Beat the eggs in a bowl. In another bowl, mix together breadcrumbs and seasoning. Dip each eggplant slice in the breadcrumbs, then the eggs, then the breadcrumbs again. Fry in about 2 tbsp of olive oil, 2-3 minutes on each side or until browned. Add more olive oil to the pan after each batch.
3. Coat the bottom of a 9x9 square baking dish with sauce. Add a layer of fried eggplant. Top with some shredded parmesan and more sauce. Then add another layer of fried eggplant, more parmesan, more sauce, and on top, the mozzarella in pieces.
4. Bake, covered, for about 20-25 minutes. Uncover and bake for an additional 10 minutes or until the mozzarella is browned and the sauce is bubbly.

Pumpkin blondies notwithstanding, this was the first pumpkin cake of the season, made on a whim after a healthy vegetarian tofu dinner and for no occasion in particular, although we did end up taking the remaining third of it (after putting away 2/3 ourselves in 24 hours. yep. that’s right.) to my boyfriend’s parents’ house for pre-Yom Kippur dinner last night. I have two go-to pumpkin cake recipes as holdovers from last fall: this one and the one inscribed on the back of the Trader’s Joe’s Pumpkin Bread and Muffin Mix box, doctored with extra spices and TJ’s pumpkin butter. This pumpkin cake started with the Trader Joe’s box, but instead of two eggs, oil and water, I added a whole can of pumpkin, about a cup of milk, and tons of cinnamon, nutmeg and clove. Then I made streusel topping, enough for a very generous layer on top of the batter, with crumbled graham crackers, butter, brown sugar and more cinnamon.

I still had some leftover butterscotch chips from the blondies, and had been thinking about mixing them into the batter when my boyfriend, whose cooking advice generally comes from what-seems-like-it-might-work rather than experience, suggested making butterscotch sauce to go with the cake. “Put some butter in it, too!” he directed, “and scotch!” So I’m pouring a half-shot of Johnnie Walker Black Label into the mixture of melted butterscotch chips and milk I’m stirring in a saucepan on the stove when it occurs to me to ask. “Hey, is there actually scotch in butterscotch?”

“No idea,” he says. (turns out butterscotch is traditionally the alchemy of butter and brown sugar. According to Wikipedia, “Food historians have several theories regarding the name and origin of this confectionery, but none are conclusive. One explanation is the meaning “to cut or score” for the word “scotch”, as the confection must be cut into pieces, or “scotched”, before hardening^. It is also possible that the “scotch” part of its name was derived from the word “scorch”.)

Here’s my super professional chef pro tip: it is definitely a really good idea to assume flavors go together if you think an ingredient is part of the name for another ingredient. Definitely always do this. Or maybe just with anything and scotch, because this butterscotch sauce was out of this world and I literally was drinking it by the spoonful.

I first made this cake on New Year’s Eve of this year, so I think of it sort of as my good luck charm of two thousand eleven, symbolic of how far I’ve come in my relationship with food this year. It is to 2011 what pumpkin cake was to my 2010 (see top of page 2 in the link): representative of what kind of cook I am, and what I want to feed people when I cook for them. Despite my haphazard history with baking, it’s somehow impossible for me to screw up, and people like it, they really do. It’s the Sally Field of my recipe repertoire. Also, when you cut it into squares, it makes the best possible brownies you can imagine. The quality, obviously, depends on the quality of the chocolate you use. I made them for our housewarming party on Friday, along with chocolate-chip-Kit-Kat cookies and pumpkin blondies with butterscotch chips and white chocolate chips, which were not particularly good-looking but tasted fantastic. Homemade garlic hummus, peppers in red wine, a cheese plate with Zabar’s rye and 7-grain bread, dry aged monterey, goat brie, camembert and New York cheddar, vodka-orange sparkling punch, and Magnolia Bakery cupcakes rounded out the menu. Apartment officially warmed, just in time for the chilly weather.

I don’t like trendy restaurants. I’m not saying that in the way people do when they’re too trendy for trendy restaurants. I’m saying that in the way of people who love food and love restauranteurs and love discovering new and delicious things, and hate disappointment. I believe strongly that on a good menu, you shouldn’t be able to “order wrong.” I believe that less is more, except sometimes when more is more, and that there is no such thing as too much garlic. I believe that the quality of the ingredients matters as much as the aptitude of the chef.

Last Saturday I had the opportunity to try Scarpetta, Scott Conant’s high-end Italian restaurant on West 14th. The housemade pasta has received a lot of hype, largely well-deserved: my cavatelli had all the lightness of really fantastic gnocchi, with an accurately al dente chewiness. The caponata was lovely, served with some addictive if heavy-handed salumi e formaggi bread.

Caponata

Primi piatti: My boyfriend slurped down an entire serving of the creamy polenta, which I described as something like macaroni and cheese without the macaroni - would you like some cornmeal with your unearthly amounts of parmesan and heavy cream? The olive oil braised octopus was both more subtle and more delicious, largely benefiting, as many of Scarpetta’s dishes do, from the sheer quality of the ingredients chosen.

Spaghetti with tomato and basil.

Cavatelli with rabbit ragu, porcini and arugula.

Paste: The tomato and basil sauce in the spaghetti pomodoro was plainly not as incredible as I wanted it to be. A little too sweet, not enough garlic. New York calls it “famously restrained,” which I guess is sort of the opposite of what I’m looking for in Italian food. I had no complaints at all, however, about my rabbit ragu: fork-tender, flavorful, the braised meat was an ideal foil to the firm cavatelli. I would have happily eaten three times the quantity of porcini, but luckily a side of broccoli rabe with extra garlic filled the gap.

Veal loin with gremolata crust, salsify, favas and semolina dumplings.

I had only a bite of the veal, and it’s possible that it just isn’t up my alley, but I found it vaguely bland. In summary, come for the pasta and some elegantly prepared, top-quality produce, but you’ll have to be sure to order right.

Yesterday at Alice’s Tea Cup, Chapter Two, on East 64th.

Indian Chai with milk & honey.

Chocolate chip & coconut scone on the left, lemon blueberry on the right. Jam and clotted cream are most necessary. 

Pumpkin scone above, strawberry cream cheese scone below. The former tasted like October.

Christmas tea, to go with the pumpkin scone. Quite heavy on the cloves.