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.

My favorite pizza in this city is not Lombardi’s or Ray’s or Motorino. I adore Artichoke, but it’s practically a different food type altogether. My favorite pizza is at Arturo’s on W. Houston: a large mozzarella pie with extra sauce and extra garlic, well done.

Garlic bread with mozzarella and a side of marinara is a must - the pre-pizza pizza, that first taste of the incredible tomato sauce is unforgettable. Don’t worry about ruining your appetite. It’s worth it.

This time (the first time in a little over six months I’ve had my favorite pizza), we tried to improve on perfection by adding anchovies. It worked.

Yesterday was potluck lunch day at work: my first one, my duty to organize, and, feeling a little sure of myself my first day on the job, I’d suggested Italian food as the theme. I’m lucky enough to work with some serious foodies - professional chefs, people who cook for a living, and eat like it’s their job because it is - so it was understandable that I felt a little intimidated. I refused to give in and do pasta salad. I wanted to impress people. So I got up at five thirty to start the dough for bread: focaccia, full of oregano and basil and garlic, chewy and hearty and moistened through with olive oil.

I used this recipe, but gave the dough an extra rise, which made the finished crust airy even though I rolled it out thinner than the recipe instructed. Topped with olive oil, a thinly sliced tomato, spinach, chopped yellow onion, and garlic, the focaccia still didn’t seem quite right. It was missing something. So, at eight a.m., I ran down the street to Luca’s for a quarter pound of mozzarella. Perfect. The focaccia stood on its own, beside the professionally assembled tiramisu and polenta and finocchio casserole and the frittata that could’ve been on the cover of Martha Stewart. There were no leftovers. I was proud.