Friday, October 8, 2010
Eggplant Caponata (or "Gobbladina")
I know that October indicates that we're pretty firmly into autumn, but I associate this classic Italian eggplant relish, Caponata, with summertime parties at my Italian grandparents' house. For some reason, my grandmother calls this dish "Gobbladina," as in, it's-so-incredibly-delicious-everyone-wants-to-gobble-it-up. To this day, I'm not totally sure why she gave it that nickname. When I was a kid this was one of my favorite foods made by Grandma; of course it was always homemade to her exact specifications, like everything else that came out of her kitchen--or house, for that matter (she was also a highly accomplished dressmaker). Since I got to enjoy it only a few times a year, Gobbladina always felt like a really luxurious, rare treat--my parents never made it and believed that the pre-made "caponata" sold in jars in supermarkets just couldn't match up to the sweet, slightly spicy, wonderfully gooey delicacy that Grandma could create from a few humble vegetables: eggplant, onion, and tomato. The remarkable thing is that Gobbladina is incredibly easy to make, and it's sort of hard to screw up. Even if you only roughly follow the instructions below, you'll end up with something delicious.
Traditionally, Caponata is served as part of an Italian antipasto platter before the "real meal" begins, but if you're like me, the antipasto has some of the best stuff: briny olives, chunks of salty sharp Provolone, strips of sweet roasted peppers, cured Italian meats, and of course, Caponata. This is certainly a wonderful way to enjoy it, but I'm so in love with this food that I have devised many more ways to appreciate it regularly--see below the recipe for an inspirational list.
Now, on to the ingredients: depending on which region in Italy one hails from, Caponata is prepared in several variations: some include chopped olives or capers, some are more oily with fewer spices, some are infused with a heavy dose of citrus zest. The version I wrote up here is of course, in my opinion, the best way to do it--the Sicilian way. I thank my lovely Grandmother, Agatha, for instilling in me such a divine devotion to eggplant: via Gobbladina in the summer, and her rendition of Eggplant Parmesan the rest of the year--but that's for another post entirely.
Mangia!
K, feeling fiercely loyal to her wonderfully talented 90 year-old grandmother
Eggplant Caponata (or "Gobbladina")
1/3 cup olive oil
1 very large yellow/Spanish onion, cut into a 1-inch dice
1/4-1/2 t. red pepper flakes (increase according to your heat level preference)
4 garlic cloves, finely minced
2 medium eggplants (about 2 1/2 pounds total), cut into 1-inch cubes
1 T. sugar
1 t. ground cinnamon
1/2 t. unsweetened cocoa powder
2 t. fresh thyme
3/4 cup tomato sauce (from a small can of plain tomato sauce or homemade if you have it)
1/4 cup orange juice
salt and freshly ground pepper
1 T. capers, rinsed and drained (optional)
3-4 T. toasted pine nuts, for garnish (optional)
1. Once your ingredients are prepped, heat the olive oil in your largest skillet or enameled cast iron dutch oven. When the oil is hot add the onion and red pepper flakes and sauté about 5 minutes until the onions are softened and almost translucent. Add the garlic and stir another 1-2 minutes.
2. Add the eggplant, stirring it around so it's coated with a bit of the oil and onion. Then add in the sugar, cinnamon, cocoa powder and mix well. Stir regularly for about five minutes until the eggplant is well softened.
3. Add in the thyme, orange juice and tomato sauce and stir well. When the mixture comes to a boil, lower the heat and simmer for 10-15 more minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Allow mixture to cool, then stir in extra virgin olive oil and capers if you're using them. Top with pine nuts, if desired, or store in a Tupperware in the fridge for up to a couple of weeks (if it lasts that long). The flavors develop really well overnight, so try to make it a day in advance. It tastes best when served at room temperature.
Ideas for Enjoying Caponata at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and in-between...
plated next to grilled ciabatta bread and poached eggs for an elegant brunch
displayed on an antipasto platter with olives, cheese, roasted peppers, etc.
stuffed in a pita pocket with some garbonzo beans and feta cheese crumbles
laid on top of a crostini spread with goat cheese
stirred into a mild cannelini bean spread
stirred into cooked pasta, rice, or other grains (barley, quinoa, etc.)
spooned on top of grilled fish, chicken, tofu, or halloumi cheese
layered in a sandwich with turkey breast and mild cheese
mixed with simply steamed greens like baby spinach
tossed with some roasted, diced potatoes for an Italian "potato salad"
rolled into a wrap with oil packed Italian tuna and fresh parsley
4 comments:
My mother made this dish in NYC by the same name Gobbladinah. She was half Sicilian and half Neopolitan so I don’t know if the name derives from one or the other. Thanks
My grandmother also called it gobbladina. Either way, its delicious!!
"Gob-ba-ladina" in Brooklyn till at least 1980s
It's Sicilian. I was married into a Sicilian family and they called it Gobbladina too
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