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The great thing about baigan is that whether you love the vegetable or hate it, it keeps trying its best to please you changing garbs quicker than any quick-change artiste. We encounter it as bharta, bharvan, kalonjiwala, achari, bhaja or paired with potatoes and tomatoes. We must confess that we have on one occasion been very pleasantly surprised by a tangy baigan pickle too. (There are even more exotic incarnations like the baigan ki launj – more about it some other time). South of the river Narmada it is common to make a ‘fast-food baigan fried rice’ at home by throwing in few slices of baigan a with a special masala to the left over rice. Baigan assumes a classy air the moment it is addressed as aubergine or eggplant. Thinly sliced rounds provide the base for the sublime Greek moussaka. The baked layers cling to the delicately flavoured mince so enticingly that even the most anorexic are aroused to a ravenous appetite. How easily do we forget that the noble vegetable originated in India and was introduced to Italy in the 15th century. By the 17th century, it had reached the South of France and had endeared itself to the lovers of fine food by the time of he revolution. Aubergines are one of the few safe choices available to the strictly vegetarian traveling abroad. It is the mainstay of Mediterranean ‘veg’ cuisine and blends beautifully with garlic, cloves, cheese, olives and tomatoes. It may come as a surprise to many that the plebian produce is treated like an aristocratic patrician beyond native shores. Most of the time, baigan
is served as a dry dish but one must confess the gravy avatar is no less
tempting. We have earlier shared with our readers the joys of Hyderabadi
baghar ke baigan and this time we are delighted to bring along an
old friend from Kashmir—the Tsuk wangun—literally sour brinjals. Our
Kashmiri friends insist that the recipe works its magic best when dried
brinjals are used as was done traditionally but let us assure you it is
great with even the garden-fresh variety.
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Brinjals can find favour even with the most hard-to-please palate, writes
Pushpesh Pant
