It’s official. It’s fall. I know, I know. I’m supposed to embrace this change. I should get out my favorite sweater, go apple picking, and buy a pumpkin. I don’t want to. Instead, I want to invite summer to stay a while longer. I want to thumb my nose at Mother Nature. I want her to understand in no uncertain terms that she can keep her beautiful foliage if I can keep my tomato patch a while longer.
I have always liked eggplant. Problem is, I have always disliked the way it was prepared. I never understood the point of covering it in a coating of breadcrumbs an inch thick and then frying it in oil. What ended up on my plate tasted of oil and stale bread without even a hint of the eggplant lying in repose underneath.