'Baingan Bartha' is a recipe I have heard long back. Once, my sister who lived in the US at the time nearly enticed me to making it as she had made it sitting in the US. I never fell for the bait. First, it was baingan, a vegetable my husband kept at leg's length, and second I wasn't a big fan of baingan. I did make the occasional 'Enna Kathrika' the Tamilian way. Onion, garlic and brinjal spiced with chilli powder and salt.
Last month's visit to the Arts College Pazhamudir got me buying the big brinjal. Dark purple with green stalk - colours resplendant. I had these brinjals often during my time in Italy, cooked the Tamilian way. Yes, sitting in Italy and being Tamilian. When I googled for recipes with Brinjal, the 'Baingan Bartha' came up. I read, reread and rereread the recipe. Different recipes made with one or more ingredient plus or minus. I didn't have a charcoal stove. Cooking on fire - now that is a little bit of risk. Me, who burns myself every time I deep fry, grilling green vegetables on gas stove fire was a risk, small one. I wondered if the seeds will splutter, whether it will mess up my stove burner, if I will burn it or will it melt down.
There are two things my dad always dissuaded me from doing in the arena of cooking : breaking/grating the coconut and deep frying. Every time I break a coconut, till date, I will get my finger caught in the crack and scream. If I ventured grating, it was slow and a little bit of my skin in one or multiple fingers was also grated. So, he would do it for me every morning. 'Ulundu Vada' is a favourite of my dad as is 'Pazham Pori'. These are two things, deep fried, I did venture to cook. No puris, no cutlets, no samosas. The moment I pour oil, he will issue a word of warning and let me know he didn't mind not having them compared to seeing burnt skin. To date, I will end up having atleast one splash of hot oil every time I cook these two recipes, despite all the care I take. The times my husband offers to try frying, seeing me try so hard, I just ban him from the kitchen. I can atleast answer my dad for burning my fingers and hands. No way I can answer for Arun's. There would be only one question : 'what were you doing ? '. The guilt of living with that line is too much to handle. Funny, how our parents can make us do and not do things with just a one liner.
Anyways, so the last time, I went back to making Enna Kathrika despite all the reading. Last week's visit to Pazhamudir, and there they were, the Brinjal's waiting for me to pick them up. After walking by them more than twice, I said to myself, 'Come on, you can't run away from a challenge'. I have never said no to a challenge, except the cooking kind. Many a time, looking at my frail frame, I have been dared to lift heavy weights or eat a big full plate of food. I wasn't as surprised as the challenger in the end. It took me one hour out of two to change a Fiat Premier Padmini tyre - the nuts of which were secured super tight. That was one where I thought for a second that I might loose, but I did come up with a way to do win it. However, I have not tread anywhere close to a cooking challenge. So, time to change history I told myself and I picked three of them, shining purple and contrasted with green, beautiful brinjals.
Today after seeing the brinjals in the fridge for the umpteenth time and knowing well that a challenge had to be faced, I started by reading the recipe. I reread the recipe. No, not enough. I looked at the pictures. I looked at youtube videos. I read the literature, from the translation of the word 'Baingan' meaning Brinjal, the King of Vegetables, ~ Vangaya - Eggplant ~ Aubergines. Geography also rolled in - the Punjabi Baingan Bartha, Maharastrian Vangyache Bharit, the Tamilian Kathrika Gothsu to the Middle Easter Baba Ganoush. Here I was, being true to my profession of being a researcher. Reading and rereading, running every step in my mind. Time flew beyond lunch time. Despite the sambhar, keerai poriyal and salad ready, I wasn't going to have lunch. Not without the Baingan Bartha.
I finally picked the tongs and put the first brinjal to grill as in the recipe, all the time checking and re checking. It felt like forever by the time I have cooked the brinjals. No lighting of charcoal, and infusing the earthy aroma. The only infusion was when I burnt the tip of my finger. Skinning the Brinjal and mashing it up, removing seeds - there was no explanation of an easy way to remove the seeds. The rest of the recipe was followed to the tee. It took double the time it stated in the recipe to touch the finish line. At the end, when I tasted it, wondered if this was the way it should taste after all. No one explains to you how it should taste at the end of the recipe, nor is there a taste transfer technique. Imagine, after all the effort, there is no standard to compare against.
My better half being the better man that he is, despite being starved during the time, had a good word for trying and even had some despite his strong dislike for Baingan. For, I had fulfilled the desire of having Baingan Bartha after all. There is enough for tomorrow and the day after, and I will have to have it all by myself I am sure. Still, it is my Baingan Bartha, no comparisons to make. The next time, I will hit a Punjabi restaurant to check it out. Till then, I should remember the taste.
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