I went to the agreed spot for us to meet (she does not drive) and waited. She did not show up; I called both phone numbers that she gave me, but neither was able to connect us. So after giving it all the time that I could, I went back home and made the eggplant parmigiana with angel hair pasta. I had made the marinara sauce two days earlier from my abundance of garden tomatoes. This is such a special meal. Even the preparation is fulfilling. This past Saturday I got four beautiful Japanese Eggplants from the local farmers market along with scads of basil. So I was most definitely ready. I broke two eggs into one pie dish, filled another with bread crumbs and added just the right amount of spices to complement the eggplant. I cut off both ends of each eggplant and sliced them on the diagonal at about three quarters of an inch thick. This of course is sacrilegious to any true Italian; they always make their eggplant parmigiana paper thin. I will not belabor the point. If you want to have your own answer to the question. Make it; first paper thin, then thick. Decide for yourself.
I proceeded to egg and bread each succulent slice of eggplant and put each one on a dish; waiting to be fried to a golden brown, then placed in a larger ovenproof dish to be touched ever so lightly with marinara sauce, sprinkled with slivered basil and topped with mozzarella cheese. The dish is placed under a broiler for long enough to melt the cheese; no longer. The angel hair should be ready before you even put the dish of eggplant in the broiler, since it only takes two minutes. It all came together perfectly.
I had a special bottle of Chianti 2005 red wine. I could think of no better time to use it! Ah, it was a sublime dinner. It is hard to imagine that such a meal could still be so special for only one, but it was.
While I enjoyed the meal, it reminded me of another parmigiana meal of some forty-four years ago. The circumstances were vastly different. I was working very diligently at my first job; waitressing in a New Jersey diner. I didn’t know that much about food that I didn’t eat often but did the best I could. I knew that parmigiana dishes came in a little boat-like dish with melted white cheese on top. It seemed to work.
My station (that’s the area of the establishment that I was responsible for) was the counter and two tables. I was just a kid and most people did not sit at the counter for dinner; two tables of four people were usually enough to keep me quite occupied. This particular night the place was very busy and a gentleman sat alone at the counter and ordered veal parmigiana with spaghetti. I knew exactly what it looked like; a large fried piece of stuff covered with tomato sauce and melted cheese. It was one of the more expensive items on the menu. I gave him his salad, rolls and water and waited for the cooks to make it for me.
I was kind of a nervous kid; always afraid that I would make a mistake. So I was checking constantly for this meal to be ready. It seemed an eternity and I still didn’t see it. The customer was getting anxious and I told him it would be ready soon. It seemed to work. I hovered over the shelf where the meals were placed for pick-up and tried to grab the first veal parmigiana that came up but was told to leave it since it was part of someone else’s order and mine would be there soon.
Ok, I waited. Finally, after what seemed like forever the parmigiana dish was ready. I grabbed it along with the spaghetti and served it to my lone customer. After a few minutes went by, I asked him how he liked the meal. He responded saying it was the best veal parmigiana he had ever had. I had a little glow inside. Wow, I really did good.
I sauntered into the kitchen only to be assaulted with all kinds of accusations that I took someone else’s order. No, I didn’t. I took the veal parmigiana that was put up there all by itself. That’s when I learned the difference between veal and eggplant parmigiana. Veal is usually one piece, eggplant is several. Hummm, well… it could have been several pieces, but it did have cheese! No matter. I brought the wrong meal to my guy. He was eating eggplant parmigiana; a much less expensive meal. The embarrassment. It took a long time to recover but I did. I checked back again to see if he wanted anything else; he did, coffee. He told me it was the best veal parmigiana he had ever had. What could I do?
I thanked him, gave him the check and wished him well.
I wonder. How many times had he tried to replicate that dish only to end up with veal instead of eggplant? I should have said something. Youth. It truly is wasted on the young.
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