The Breakfast Club, Part 2

Continuing with my trip down memory lane (brought on by the "death" of my laptop and the subsequent retrieval of old files, including our brunch menus)...the Pasquino American Sunday Brunch in Rome...

Since the Pasquino restaurant, the spot we'd secured for our brunch venture, was a part of the landmark Pasquino English-language Cinema complex, we decided to play with the whole movie/Hollywood theme -- hence "The Breakfast Club" moniker (after the 1985 John Hughes flick).

Full disclosure: In a recent conversation with my friend Patrick, he reminded me of our original working title for our brunch spot, before we'd even secured a location: Daney's. That's right, like Denny's, but combined with Dana. The Americans in the group found it hilarious, and Patrick even printed out a terrible prototype of the logo, having doctored the bright yellow Denny's sign. I wanted nothing to do with "Daney's."

Grazie a dio I was able to talk them out of it and we moved on to a location with an already built-in theme with which to work. Can you imagine me, slinging hash in a hairnet at Daney's?! Holy crap.

Team Breakfast Club

We enlisted the help of my American roommate Leah, for kitchen help. Our friend Elizabeth pulled out her long-dormant waitress skills from her post-grad days. We brought in a couple of other Italian friends to help serve, and we put Peppe behind the bar, our "Calabrese Connection" whom we taught to mix a mean Bloody Mary. Martin helped in the kitchen, but felt his "talents" were best utilized in the front-of-house (he ended up doing a little of both). Gareth and Patrick were our friendly English-speaking male servers, helpfully flirting with our young female clientele. We realized we were still short-staffed in the kitchen though, so we turned to a young American college student named Paul, per Patrick's recommendation. (Us: "Does he have experience in the kitchen?" Patrick: "He sure looks like he could cook up some pancakes!") We arranged for an "interview" with young Paul to make sure he was rigorously vetted. We met at one of our favorite spots at the time, Ombre Rosse, next door to the restaurant (where we had something close to a group 'corporate account' bar tab). After being subjected to torturous questions from us ("How much bacon do you think you could handle cooking at one time?", "Quick! What are the components of a cobb salad?" and "How awesome are cats!?" [Gareth]), we hired the poor guy -- who, incidentally, ended up making a fine short order cook.

We got to work on our menu, knowing we wanted to include brunch staples that weren't available anywhere else: pancakes and bacon, eggs served a variety of ways with classic sides, bagels and lox (for me), sausage biscuits (for Martin), and that elusive Eggs Benedict, for us all. Bagels were nowhere to be found in Rome, so I had to make a few dozen of them at home every Saturday night (quite a task, as it turned out). In addition, I had a full baking roster to round out our menu: New York cheesecake, brownies, and a variety of other sweets and savories. We had several booze and broccoli Romano-fueled dinners over which we discussed menu items and their respective names. We decided to name each dish after a film or a movie reference. Some favorites? "O Bagel, Where Art Though" was fitting as a riff on the Coen Brothers' Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? but also because of the difficulty of finding a damned bagel in The Eternal City. And I still chuckle thinking about our name for a vegetarian sandwich: "Honey, I Left Out the Meat!" (Also hilarious were the various Italian pronunciations of these dish names by our Italian servers who had no clue about what they were ordering from the kitchen: "Cosa sono i pan-cake??" ) Even our drinks had some great names, including a "Fellini" instead of a bellini, and a "Something About Bloody Mary." Genius, no?

We secured our food orders through our various restaurant and green market connections. One of our biggest dilemmas was finding passable "American style" smoked bacon. We located a purveyor, but the bacon came packaged in whole slabs of pork belly, so we convinced Patrick to sweet-talk the owner of a nearby alimentari (food shop) into letting us use his meat slicer for the bacon. We had a built-in laundry service, as Patrick owned the Wash 'n Dry laundromat in the neighborhood. Gareth created CDs to provide our brunch soundtrack. We revved our publicity engines by plastering the city center with our brunch posters, and of course, utilized the ever-effective Italian method of raccomandazione: word-of-mouth.

And so, with all of these elements in place, we began the first real American Brunch in Rome, THE BREAKFAST CLUB, on April 1 (no joke), 2001. We did approximately 90 covers -- restaurant parlance for one customer's entire order, however many courses that may entail -- that first Sunday. We were a hit! We turned tables 2 to 3 times in those 4 hours. We were buzzing along. It wasn't perfect, but it was clear we had a great concept on our hands, and there was definitely an audience hungry for good, authentic brunch food prepared with love and served with a smile.

We celebrated afterward at our old haunt next door, Ombre Rosse -- a bunch of chairs gathered around a couple of small tables outside under the umbrellas in Piazza Sant'Egidio. If memory serves me correctly, we spent all of our week's profits on rounds of drinks for the remainder of the evening. We were exhausted. But it was gratifying, for sure. And fun. Really, really fun.

Stay tuned for part 3...

The Breakfast Club, Part 1

I'm one of many people who firmly believe that Sundays were made for brunch. It's a distinctly American concept (and one facet of food culture New York can be credited with perfecting), though brunch's popularity has spread around the globe. To wit: in places like Italy, where Sundays have traditionally been days of rest centered around a large family lunch, brunch is catching on. Kind of.

As an expat living in Rome, I spent a lot of Sundays with friends lounging at trattorias for some curative pasta and hair-of-the-dog vino. But every so often, we'd long for a good old American brunch: the savory-sweet combos of pancakes and bacon, the perfection of Eggs Benedict. And a bagel, for the love of the Lord, a bagel. Since Italians are so enamored of many American concepts -- Mickey Mouse, McDonald's, Hollywood -- it's easy to see why brunch, in all its yummy goodness, would also become an appealing "trend." What we witnessed all over Rome, however, was failed attempts at "American brunch" (quotation marks intentional). Versions of Italian Sunday lunch got slapped with the brunch label all over town. Those places that actually tried for traditional brunch menu items got lost in the execution of the dishes. Hell, even The Hard Rock Cafe and Planet Hollywood failed miserably. But time and again, my friends and I would hope against hope, dragging our hungover bodies into any place with a "Vero Brunch Americano" sign outside. 

This scramble for scrambled eggs took a pivotal turn for the worse one afternoon when we sat down at a pretty restaurant not far from Campo de' Fiori that boasted "Eggs Benedict" on its sign in the window.  After waiting for an hour and a half for what we'd decided must be the most perfectly-cooked eggs benny ever, we were served a piece of toast cut in half, topped with a hard-boiled egg and a slice of tomato. And fries. Upon further inquiry, our server admitted that the chef didn't really know what Eggs Benedict was, and that they were new to this whole brunch thing.

You don't say. Well, we put in a good effort trying to explain, in Italian, the finer points of eggs benny and well-cooked bacon and hash browns. Then we looked around the table. Wait a minute, we thought. We're sitting here with an American chef (me), an American who'd bartended for years (Marty), a guy who'd had some history in the service industry (Patrick), and one Brit who loooved bacon and would do anything for a proper Sunday brunch after a night slurping suds at Sloppy Sam's (more on that some other time: Gareth). Why not do our own American brunch in Rome?!

Through a connection of ours, we set up a meeting with one of the owners of the newly-opened Pasquino restaurant, a subterranean risto-lounge next door to the much-loved Pasquino English-language cinema. It had all the qualities we were looking for in a space: it was new, fun and modern, in a great location in the center of Trastevere (a great nabe in Rome, a mishmash of old-school Romans, international expats, and American students), and most importantly, it was closed on Sundays. We cut a deal to give a percentage of our brunch profits to the owners in exchange for the keys to the place on Sundays. And so, The Breakfast Club was born...

Pesce d'Aprile!

Yes, it's April 1st everyone: known in America as April Fool's Day, and in Italy, bizarrely, as Pesce d'Aprile, translated as "April Fish." All over the Italian peninsula today, giggling school children are sticking colorful paper cut-outs of fish on unsuspecting schoolmates' backs (hilaaaaarious, I know). Of course these pranks aren't limited strictly to fish, or to schoolchildren. But today in New York, the sun is finally shining and it's 63 degrees out. So I don't really care about pranks right now. I want to take in the sunlight and the temperate weather.

So, at the risk of seeming like a humorless twit, I'm going to skip the practical jokes and concentrate on the pesce part of the Pesce d'Aprile: fish. When I think of spring warmth and sunshine, I think of Sicily. And lemons. My first trip to Sicily was in the month of April, and it was a glorious week with some of the most amazing Italian food I'd ever tasted (authentic Sicilian is still perhaps my favorite regional Italian cuisine). The recipe below highlights the island's wonderful citrus, in a dish of Fish with Salmoriglio -- a light, lemony, herby sauce shot through with plenty of garlic that's a perfect foil to meaty or oily fish. Pesce spada (swordfish) or mackerel would be the most likely fish varieties used in Sicilia. I like to use the large bunches of dried oregano that come from Sicily and Calabria as the main herb in the sauce, though adding a bit of parsley and rosemary work to give the sauce some extra green notes, both in flavor and color.

Salmoriglio is best with white, flaky fish or steak fish, I think, but also works with shellfish and grilled meats. Whatever you pair it with, it imparts a bit of sunshine to the dish --  a bit of agrumi (citrus). Very Sicilian. And much better than that other Sicilian notion involving fish, particularly popular in Corleone: sleeping with the fishes. Buon Pesce d'Aprile! And buon appetito! 

PESCE CON SALMORIGLIO

(4 servings)

4 1-inch thick slices or fillets of whitefish (about 1½ pounds), cleaned

1/2 cup good quality extra-virgin olive oil (preferably Sicilian

2 lemons

1 clove garlic, peeled and chopped finely

Pinch of oregano, or a mix of fresh herbs (oregano, parsley, basil, rosemary, thyme)

Salt & pepper to taste

- In a small bowl, zest one of the lemons (careful not to include the white pith), and juice both lemons. Stir together with garlic. Slowly add 1/3 cup olive oil in a stream to make a sort of citronette. Add salt and pepper to taste. Set aside. (If you want the garlic taste to be mellowed, heat this mixture in a pan and warm for 5 minutes to cook the garlic a bit).

- Warm a couple of tablespoons of the olive oil in a large sauté pan over medum heat. Sprinkle the fish with salt just before placing it in the sauté pan. Sauté until golden brown. Flip and proceed the same way on the second side.

- In the meantime, chop the herbs finely. Add to the lemon-garlic-oil mixture. Adjust seasoning as needed.

- Transfer fish to a platter, drizzle with the salmoriglio sauce, and serve warm or at room temperature.

On the Radio

As disco diva Donna Summer once sang,

"...they said it really loud, they said it on the air, on the radio...".

Anyone who's ever seen me once upon a time at Subbass on a friday night in Rome, or at a karaoke bar in New York -- well, you know how I feel transformed with a microphone in hand. That feeling came rushing back to me last week when my friend Peter D. and I were the featured guests on

NY Public Radio's

Let's Travel Radio

with Susi Raphael

.

The subject was Italy, and we focused on sustainable travel and World Heritage sites as well as the food and wine and culture of the Italian peninsula (that's what I was there for!). We covered Rome and Florence/Tuscany, because even though they're heavily traveled by tourists, they're timeless draws for visitors -- and have so much to offer culturally, visually, historically, culinarily, you name it. But we then shifted the focus away from cities that are perhaps over-touristed (La Serenissima, Venice, anyone?) and towards lesser-known cities and regions. In the north, we featured Vicenza, Verona, and the "non-Venice Veneto," as well as Torino, a wonderfully undervalued alpine city that was once the seat of Italian royalty and is today very much a hidden culinary gem. Then we headed south to Puglia and Calabria. These areas offer dramatically different landscapes than up north, but are truly Mediterranean and offer wonderful food, wine, and value for travelers. We ran out of time before we could even discuss the wonders of Sardinia and Sicily -- two of my favorite areas in Italy. So, until next time.

I could get used to this having-a-microphone-in-front-of-me thing...

Check out our podcast: http://www.letstravelradio.com/podcasts/2010/3-25/

Comments welcome!

Rainy Days and Mondays Always Get Me...Hungry

It's one of the most amazing structures on the planet, in my opinion: the Pantheon. It's regal, majestic. It's still the largest dome in Rome, because even the greatest architectural minds of the Renaissance couldn't figure out how to create a dome for St. Peter's that bested the Pantheon's -- a milennium and a half later. And don't even get me started on the gorgeous marble surrounding you upon entering. The strange thing about the dome here? The oculus, or "eye" in the center. That's right, to put it simply: there's a hole in the roof! This helped the dome remain structurally sound for so many centuries, but that means that when it rains, it indeed pours -- right inside the Pantheon itself. There are drains built into the floors for this, of course, but the Pantheon caretakers put up velvet ropes around the perimeter of the slippery marble area that gets wet below the 8-meter-wide oculus.

I lived down the street from the Pantheon for 7 years. So when I hear the sound of rain hitting pavement, my thoughts veer towards the piazza del Pantheon, the public echo chamber of cobblestones and scurrying tourists with umbrellas under the cover of darkness. Rome is magically lit at night, and the Pantheon becomes a towering structure of columns and dome that seems to glow from within, especially when viewed through waterlogged-weary eyes. And the sound of water pouring through that oculus. 

It makes me think of one cozy place at the corner of one edge of the piazza, away from the hustle of McDonald's (sadly, yes, this piazza had one at the time) and the overpriced formality of La Rosetta. Armando al Pantheon, a restaurant that's been around for eons, has the lived-in warmth of the best kind of old-school Italian trattoria. I've ducked in here many times, closing and shaking my umbrella, breathing in the heady scent of truffles in-season, or the Italian 'trifecta' aroma of garlic and tomatoes cooking in olive oil.

The menu doesn't disappoint, featuring all kinds of Roman staples (artichokes, puntarelle, bruschette, and soups) to start, as well as traditional primi -- tomato-based (amatriciana, arrabbiata) and cheese-spiked (carbonara, cacio e pepe, alla gricia). The main courses are Roman comfort food: veal roast and baked chicken and roasted lamb, stewed oxtail and Roman tripe and sauteed lamb "bits and bops" (as my Brit friends would say) with artichokes -- classic coratella. An older signore who owns a nearby antiques shop told my friend he's been going to Armando several days a week for lunch for the last 25 years. Local Romans have been coming here since it opened in 1961.

And I remember a wonderful lunch I shared here with my parents and older brother one rainy early October afternoon. There was an older gentleman seated at a table near us, smartly dressed in a 3-piece tailored wool suit, the kind that strikes a balance between classic Italian tailored and tweedy professorial. He couldn't have been taller than my 5'6" mother, and just as slight. He ate by himself, and every server knew him by name. My father was transfixed by this Italian gentleman quietly consuming plate after plate of homestyle Roman wonderfulness. He went through various salumi with bread, a plate of Roman artichokes, a main course of baby lamb with vegetables and potatoes. Red wine, ovviamente. Every time another course came out, my Dad kept exclaiming, "Wow! Where does he put it all?!?" Then a mixed salad. Then the server made the mistake of bringing him an espresso. "Ma non mi ha portato il dolce!" the gentleman said -- but you haven't brought me my dessert! The server was all apologies and swiftly served him a plate of profiteroles, cream-filled choux pastry bathed in chocolate sauce. Now that's what you call a lunch, alla romana. At the foot of a structure built in 27 BC. Rain be damned.

Side note: In life, there are few coincidences. I lived down the street from the original Pantheon for 7 years, and for 4 years, I lived down the street from Thomas Jefferson's Rotunda, at The University of Virginia. Long an admirer of classical architecture and Palladian design, Jefferson built the Rotunda to honor the Pantheon and the Palladian design principles that were based on this classic structure. They're separated by more than 1800 years, but both boast their own classical beauty. I love them both.

ROME restaurant reviews

Here we have an ever-expanding list of restaurant reviews for hot spots and cool locales around the Italian capital, ROME. From upscale dining to dive bars, check back frequently for updates on where to head now in the Eternal City. Buon appetito!

San Teodoro

Via dei Fienili 50, Phone: 06/6780933

Closed Sundays

San Teodoro feels removed from the madding crowds of the centro storico, but remains geographically smack in the center of Rome. The surroundings are typical breathtaking Roman stage setting: an enclosed piazza, ivy-draped walls, atop the Palatine hill -- nestled aside the Roman Forum and Monte Caprino, the hillside park adjacent to the Campidoglio. Here, civilized locals, politicians, and in-the-know foodies dine on refined Roman fare, featuring tastes of the Roman Jewish kitchen, and specializing in seafood. With (mostly) courteous service and an interesting menu, including several variations of tasting menus, San Teodoro lies somewhere above typical trattoria but hovers below the esoteric of a break-the-bank Michelin meal. The outdoor deck is lovely in warm weather, offering the shade of umbrellas and the intimacy of candlelight, and in cooler months, the brightly-decorated rooms with contemporary art and glass doors abutting the deck offer an extremely pleasant dining option. The small but varied menu includes classic fried artichokes (among the best in the city), and the Roman classic rigatoni all'amatriciana. An unusual appetizer of calamari, white beans, and bottarga (dried pressed mullet roe, shaved into thin slices) is a warm, harmonious medley of flavor and texture. Fresh sole in a tomato, zucchini flower, and thyme broth, and roasted turbot delicately crusted in paper-thin potato slices let the delicate flavor of the fish shine. The wine list is well-picked and represents the various regions of Italy. Here, even dessert surpasses the banal Italian offerings of most menus (go for the chocolate medley). Prices have creeped up significantly in recent years, but considering the quality, this is still one of the better dining experiences in the Eternal City.

Alle Fratte di Trastevere

Via delle Fratte di Trastevere 49/5000153, Trastevere. Phone: 06/5835775

Closed Wed. and 2 wks in August

There are countless trattorias in Rome. Some are good and some are not good at all – and some surpass the good by having food that’s just a little bit fresher, with service that’s warm and welcoming. Alle Fratte is one of those in the latter category. Here you find staple Roman trattoria fare as well as dishes with a southern Italian slant. This means that spaghetti alla carbonara (with pancetta, eggs, and cheese) shares the menu with penne alla Sorrentina (with tomato, basil, and fresh mozzarella). For starters, the bruschette here are so simple, you wonder what exactly it is that makes them so tasty. The pressed octopus carpaccio, while less common, is no less delicious on a bed of peppery Roman arugula. For secondi, you can again look south and to the sea for the mixed seafood pasta or a grilled sea bass with oven-roasted potatoes, or go for meat with a fillet al pepe verde (green peppercorns in a brandy cream sauce). Service is always with a smile, as Peppe, the owners’ longtime trusted waiter, makes you feel like you’re eating in your Neapolitan aunt’s dining room.

Festa Delle Donne

March 8th in Italy is the 

Festa Delle Donne

, or Women's Day. This has been a tradition for a long time in Italy and in many countries around the globe -- and recently the holiday has picked up steam in the U.S. (The photo above features the mimose, the official flower for this holiday in Italy). All over the Italian peninsula on March 8th, groups of women take over restaurant dining rooms en masse, leaving the men to stay home and cook for themselves! This year, we celebrate

Festa delle Donne

 just after an historic win at the Oscars last night for Kathryn Bigelow -- the first female ever to win best director. Congratulations and

 forza donne! 

For a great website featuring information about all things Italian, check out my friend GB's wonderful

Italian Notebook

, and sign up to get a daily dose of Italy at

www.italiannotebook.com

. Thanks, Geebs, for the photo I lifted above!

Fashion Dish...

New York fashion week happened in mid-February, and we were there to feed the hungry masses backstage. BLU AUBERGINE catered the tent show for YIGAL AZROUEL, a very talented Israeli designer who's become a fashion media darling. It was an early call time for models and stylists backstage -- and even earlier for us: 7:30 a.m. Those of you who know me, and chefs in general, know we don't do so well with early morning

anything

. But we managed, all in the name of homemade coconut muffins and banana-pecan bread, mini wild blueberry muffins and pumpkin-cranberry bread. We had homemade veggie frittata diamonds and mini bagels with butters, jams, and smoked salmon-scallion whipped cream cheese. And we had fresh fruit, fruit, and more fruit. And of course, we couldn't resist adding a platter of my famous deep chocolate brownies. Evil temptation for models watching their figures? Perhaps. But hey, the stylists and makeup artists need some kind of reward for their hard work.

Our reward? We got a few. By the time the show was over, everything had been happily consumed, with a lonely mini-muffin remaining. This is the catering equivalent of a plate licked clean: good news. Our other reward? The runway show itself. Yigal's Fall '10 collection was gorgeous as expected, with buttery leathers and smart, architectural cuts. I find it impossible to resist a sparkly something, so his works designed for Swarovski were some of my favorite statement pieces. Crystal AND distressed leather in one fabulous dress? Sign. Me. Up. It was difficult to discern what was most delicious at the Yigal show: the food backstage, the clothing, or the gorgeous designer himself.

A Taste of Nostalgia

It's been freezing in New York in recent weeks. I've been doing a lot more cooking at home for meals than I normally do: a conscious effort both to reboot the creative juices and to save money on personal food costs. I came across some fresh, plump bay scallops the other day, and had to buy them. My Mom used to make a bay scallop dish when I was growing up, a simple yet utterly satisfying gratin, of sorts. I wanted to recreate that -- and I could practically taste it in my mouth, and see my young Mom, hair curled behind her ears, sprawled out on the kitchen floor to man the broiler while the ramekins of tiny scallops browned. I served this, as my Mom sometimes did, with a blend of wild rice and whole grain brown rice. A nod to the hippie '70's when I first ate the dish? That, and I threw in some dried cranberries and toasted almonds for good 21st century "superfoods" measure. With the addition of some baby arugula tossed with my favorite olive oil from Umbria and a splash of balsamic, I had a great meal. Nostalgic. Homey. Delicious.

Mom's Broiled Scallops:

A serving is a ramekin full, so it depends on the size of the bay scallops and the ramekin itself. A shallow,wider ramekin is best. Wipe the inside of the ramekin(s) with softened butter. Place the scallops in to cover the bottom in one layer. Sprinkle with about 2 teaspoons of white wine. Dot scallops with butter, sprinkle with salt, and top with plenty of seasoned bread crumbs. Broil for 4 minutes or so, until the top has a nice brown crust on it. You might want a little bread on the side to sop up the liquid. It's pretty irresistible.

What the Future Holds

I attended a food panel/discussion last week hosted by Culintro dubbed "The Future of Food Journalism." It's an interesting topic for those of us who work in the food industry, as well as for those who are avid readers of food journalism, enjoy restaurant reviews, and share in the food blogosphere.

These are trying times for journalism in general, since print newspapers and magazines continue to fold. I think most writers and readers share the sentiment that these print media are something special that we don't want to go away. The loss of Gourmet was a tremendous blow to both the publishing and food industries -- I'd been a subscriber since long before I became a chef, and for me, there's still a gaping hole in food journalism that has yet to be filled since Gourmet sent out its last issue in November '09.

So the general consensus? Blogs and new media aren't going anywhere -- their immediacy is what makes them unique, as does the egalitarian nature of sites like Yelp! But it cuts both ways, because this makes everyone a food critic. And really, we know that everyone can't be a food critic -- at least not reliable ones, not like seasoned (pun intended) journalists and culinary professionals.

But speaking from the perspective of those who write, the point was brought up that while once journalists were paid for their writing, now blogs and online content -- which pay very little and often nothing at all -- expect professional writers to do it gratis. This means that "serious" journalists are looking elsewhere to write, and the "experts" writing online are those getting marketing benefits in return. Ergo, those writing for blogs have something to push -- wares or a brand, but regardless, an agenda -- and so there are fewer career journalists able to get the (presumably) unbiased word out there.

Other highlights of the evening:

- Francis Lam describing the allure of the physicality of magazines. And I fully agree: I like holding what I'm reading, the feel of the pages, the heft of the paper.

- The point made by the panel that one of the big problems of our society today is that increasingly, people don't want to talk with people who don't agree with them. Bravo! Sadly, Americans are more segmented than they've been in many years: politically, philosophically, financially...and this applies to us even on a gustatory level. The more we mix, listen, and understand, the better we'll be. Blue state - red state, green chile red chile. An open discourse is key.

- Gabriella Gershenson's comment about the advantage food bloggers have over print journalists: immediacy. Journalists have to file their stories and see them printed, at best, the next morning. Bloggers can in one minute post "Boom: Keith McNally just wiped his ass!" That had me cracking up for quite some time.

MELANZANA

MELANZANA

The blank page. Or worse, the blank blog. What does one write when one can write anything she wishes (within reason)? It will have something to do with food, of course. Preferably good food. Preferably Italian, because that's like home to me -- 

come tornare a casa

, as they say. And what do I love, really love, as much as, say, chocolate? The answer is simple: eggplant.

Not what you expected? I know, I know. People seem to love it or hate it. I fall with a loud thud into the first category. I think eggplant is a glorious food: a berry as it so happens, a member of the nightshade family, and a great canvas for a tremendous range of flavorful "paint," if you will. My dedication to the eggplant is evident in my use of its french-anglo name as my company's moniker ("aubergine"). And my love of cooking with and eating of the eggplant is evident to all who know me ("What kind of eggplant dish are you preparing tonight?" many friends and relatives have asked me, tongues planted firmly in cheeks). So it's true. Sometimes I go overboard with the eggplant. The Italians call it

melanzana

-- derived from

mela insana

, or "crazy apple," which was the effect early Italians were sure it had on those who consumed it. So, call me crazy for the eggplant. I am still trying to successfully marry my two favorite foods: eggplant and chocolate. In the meantime, while I'm working on that alchemical miracle, here's a recipe for a very simple, but wonderful, Italian sauteed eggplant dish.

The sliced melanzana can be eat

en as is, or used as a base for an eggplant parm; a stacked millefoglie with sliced mozzarella, tomato, and basil; or in involtini, stuffed with fresh ricotta and a basil chiffonade and rolled -- a great little appetizer with some chilled white wine. Like I said, a great canvas...

MELANZANE IN PADELLA

(2-4 people)

1-2 Medium-sized eggplants

Salt

Extra-virgin olive oil

1-2 cloves garlic

Parsley, chopped, to taste

(red pepper flakes optional)

(red wine vinegar, optional)

-Slice eggplants across into rounds about 1/8-inch thick.

-Layer in colander in sink and generously salt each layer. Leave to drain for an hour or so.

-Pat dry eggplant slices.

-Heat olive oil to cover bottom of a saute pan over medium heat. Add whole garlic clove and cook, swirling clove around in oil, for 1 minute. Remove.

-Add 1 layer of eggplant slices and cook, turning once, until nicely browned around edges.

-Remove from pan and drain on paper towels. Continue with remaining eggplant slices, adding oil to pan when necessary.

-When all eggplant is cooked, layer in a dish, sprinkle with salt to taste, parsley, and red pepper flakes if you like. Sprinkle with red wine vinegar if desired.