Caponata, And the Rainstorm of Rainstorms

Medically reviewed by Christiana George Updated Date: June 8, 2023

Remember how I said that I’d rekindled my love for eggplant? Well, part of that was helped along by some amazing caponata—an Italian eggplant appetizer—I had one tempestuous evening at a little Italian restaurant close to Lincoln Center.

There’s something so glamorous about dining al fresco during a storm. While many restaurant patrons made for drier parts, namely indoors, our table staunchly remained, seated at the threshold of getting absolutely drenched. Lightning streaked spectacularly across the sky, sideways(!), followed by the low rumbling of thunder. And the light of passing cars, refracted by the rain, shimmered like mirages, except their honking sounded all too real. I will never tire of these dramatic shows.

But back to that caponata. There we were, seated outside during a thrilling thunderstorm, sheets of rain spraying at us at oblique angles, and I was downing eggplant like there was no tomorrow. It was so flavorful, so moist! I forgot my manners. I was the only un-glamorous element of the whole setup. At least everyone was distracted by the lightning around us and a leak above one of our heads.

Back at home, I tried to replicate the dish, starting with choice eggplant from the Union Square Greenmarket. I will never tire of the Greenmarket. (But I can’t wait for the damn F train to get fixed so I’m not trudging 12 blocks back to the subway with quickly-wilting plant matter.)

It turns out, there’s no one recipe for caponata. At its base, it’s eggplant cooked until it’s really soft, in a tomato-y sauce. But beyond that, well, just as there are thousands of regional cuisines in Italy, there are endless variations of this classic antipasto.

I stuck with good old pantry staples.

I realize it doesn’t appear wholly appetizing, but please try not to judge it harshly. It does its best. Eggplant just sort of, well, does that wilting thing, where it turns grayish-brown and flaccid, but that doesn’t make it any less lovable. Not to me at least.

And its taste? Well, it’s not the same as what I remember. This caponata didn’t turn out as flavorful or as moist. It’s kind of a different food altogether. Less tang, more… something. I wasn’t sure what to think. But then my friend came over the other night, and we shoveled most of it down. As if there was no tomorrow. I forgot my manners. And I must’ve looked so un-glamorous. But I looked up and saw that she wasn’t noticing, because she was doing the same.

CAPONATA

Serves 6 to 8
From Bon Appetit

Ingredients:

5 Tbsp olive oil
1-1/2 pound eggplant, unpeeled, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
1 medium onion, cubed
4 large garlic cloves, chopped
1 14-1/2 ounce can diced tomatoes with Italian seasonings in juice
3 Tbsp red wine vinegar
2 Tbsp drained capers
1/3 cup chopped fresh basil
Toasted pine nuts

Directions:

Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium heat. Add eggplant, onion, and garlic cloves. Saute until eggplant is soft and brown, about 15 minutes. Add diced tomatoes with juice, then red wine vinegar and capers. Cover and simmer until eggplant and onion are very tender, stirring occasionally, about 12 minutes. Season caponata to taste with salt and pepper. Mix in fresh basil. Transfer caponata to serving bowl. Sprinkle with toasted pine nuts.

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Mixed Berries Galette

Baked Dessert

Christiana George

Updated Date:
June 8, 2023

When we moved into our apartment in San Francisco, we bought a giant bookshelf and filled it to the brim with books. Over time, the overflow started lying in stacks in front, and by the time we moved out, we had so many books that Chris ended up having to donate most of the collection. The rest we stored at my parents’ house, boxes and boxes full. It wasn’t so much that I had a book-buying problem. Chris is just helpless at the sight of used bookstores. They are treasure troves to him, much in the same way good grocery stores—the kinds with bulk bins and small-batch anythings—are to me.

Moving to New York seemed like a good chance to wipe the slate clean. Chris curated a small collection of his most beloved books and shipped them to our new apartment in Brooklyn. Except, over time, as he discovered his favorite bookstores in New York, his modest collection grew and grew. We expanded to THREE bookshelves, started double-layering books on each shelf, and then the stacks started up again. The book area even started its own collection: of dust bunnies. It was a mess.

The thing about collections is, the collector starts to lose sight of the point of the collection. Presumably you start one because you love whatever it is you’re collecting, but the more you own of something, the less attention each individual item gets. We’re so inoculated with the idea that more is better, but perhaps real merit lies in realizing when enough is enough.

And so, when furnishing our new, smaller apartment, we decided to limit ourselves to one regular-sized bookshelf which demanded that we downsize our collection yet again. Chris committed himself to maintaining an equilibrium of books which he’s kept up to this day, and since then, has discovered clarity, focus, and a lightening of the spirit. Which sounds kind of hippie dippie bordering on hokey, but is not, I promise.

On my part, I decided to part with quite a few cookbooks. Back to the basics, if you will. Or just the favorites. And I too find such pleasure in lingering over what’s left of my collection. Each and every book is an absolute gem. The recipe for the crust of these mixed berry galettes are from Kim Boyce’s Good to the Grain, a classic to me and one that will always have a place on my shelf.

Happy 4th, y’all. Also, Chris and I went to Iceland! If you’re interested, I created an album on Flickr.

RYE GALETTE CRUST for MIXED BERRIES GALETTES

From Good to the Grain by Kim Boyce
Makes 2 9-inch tarts

This recipe is for the crust only. Filling-wise, I tossed about 2 cups of mixed berries with 3 T sugar, a liberal pinch of cinnamon, and a dash vanilla extract (about 1/4 t). Next time, I would add either flour or corn starch to thicken the juices because they leaked all over the place and made the baking sheet look like a crime scene. Also, if you too use redcurrants, add them after baking. And I’d omit the gooseberries altogether.

Ingredients:

3/4 cup ice water
1 cup rye flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 T sugar
1 t salt
1-1/2 sticks (12 T) cold unsalted butter
1 t apple cider vinegar

Directions:

Sift the flours, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Cut the butter into 1/2-inch pieces and add them to the dry mixture. Working quickly, rub the butter between your fingers, breaking it into smaller chunks. When the chunks are sizes ranging from peas to hazelnuts, add the vinegar and 8 T ice water. Mix the ingredients with your hands until you can squeeze them into a shaggy lump (add water 1 T at a time if it’s not coming together). Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and place in fridge for at least 1 hour.

Unwrap the dough onto a floured surface. Pat the dough into a rough square, then, using a rolling pin, roll the dough to a rectangle about 8-1/2 by 11 inches. Resist the urge to add extra flour or water. Fold the rectangle as you would a letter, into thirds, with the seam ending on the left. Rotate the dough 90 degrees clockwise so that the seam faces the top. Roll the dough into another 8-1/2 by 11-inch rectangle and repeat the folding and rotation. Roll it out once again, then, after folding, wrap the dough tightly in plastic wrap. Chill for at least an hour before use.

You’ll cut the dough in half when you’re ready to bake, resulting in two galettes, capisce?