For Mothers’s Day here in the dusty market town of Chone, Ecuador, Norma Yvonne’s mom Annie requested that the Dowbrigade whip up one of our trademark dishes, Eggplant Lasagna, which she tried and liked on one of her visits to the US.
Always eager to please the in-laws, we were happy to comply, and set out to obtain all of the ingredients, some of which were difficult to track down. The local supermarket in Manta had the three indispensible cheeses; mozzerella, ricotta (a bit dry but acceptable) and grated cheddar. At a meat market we found a kilo of decent German sausage for a bit over $5.00. Lasagna noodles themselves were easy to come by, as an Ecuadorian version of the dish is quite popular, although unlike that which Americans and Europeans are used to.
The rest of the vegetables were available in abundance, even the white mushrooms which are reportedly grown by gnomes in caves outside of Quito. The most difficult to encounter were the Eggplants, which are grown only in the mountains and are virtually unknown here on the coast. After a week of combing the three big supermarkets and the open-air fruit and vegetable market in the center of town, we were quite frankly considering alterntives. Broccoli? Zuccini? Beets (ugg)? Finally, at the last moment, one of Norma’s innumerable sisters found some in the crossroads city of Puertoviejo. We arranged a drive-by pickup; as the bus from Manta to Chone passed through downtown Puertoviejo, the sister in question passed a shopping bag full of perfect purple eggplants through the bus window, and our shopping was complete.
Saturday night we installed ourself in the kitchen of Annie’s house with a 10-year-old nephew as our able assistant. After confessing to an enjoyment of cooking which is considered slightly unmasculine in Ecuadorian men, somewhat akin to a prediliction for Broadway show tunes in an American, and being informed by the Dowbrigade that all of the best cooks and chefs in the world’s great hotels and restaurants were men (OK, OK, a slight exaggeration), he was an enthusiastic and able helper.
We started by skinning and chopping a kilo of ripe tomatos almost into a paste, and putting them on a slow simmer with a can of Hunt’s spagetti sauce, a cup of dry red wine, a fistfull of garlic and a few spices. Then we set to slicing the eggplant, dipping the slices in a milk and egg batter and coating them with bread crumbs, then frying gently in olive oil before sessing aside to drain. The sausage was fried with the mushrooms and onions and then also drained of grease. Finally, when the pasta was ‘al diente’, all of the ingredients were layered, cheese added artistically, topped with woven strips of pasta and garnished with fresh oregeno. Two large lasagnas were dispatched to the oven by 9 pm.
Yesterday, Mother’s Day, our masterpiece was the culnary centerpiece of the gathering of the Moreira-Hidrovo-Loor clan. In all, probably two dozen relations tried the lasagna. For most, it was the first time they had ever eaten eggplant: while theadults proclaimed admiration for our skill and cleaned their plates (in some cases we suspect more from good manners than real enthusiasm), the kids, including even my assistant chef, were not so easily convinced. We sympathized, as it is hard to learn to love new dishes, and lasagna is really a cold-weather dish ill-suited to the hot and humid clime here on the Pacific coast.
We have saved the last slice for our lunch today, shortly before heading back to the bus station for the ride back to Manta. Despite our healthy lifestyle and appetite down here this morning Annie’s scale reported that the Dowbrigade had dropped down to 179 lbs, welcome news as during the sloth-like winter in Boston we were pushing dangerously close to 200. Count it up to the heat, and the absense of traditional standbys like cream cheese, chesecake and Christina’s Ice Cream from our refrigerator…