Yummy is good, right?

 

Last night I got home from work followed by shopping and not finding what I wanted and in a bit of a funk, so I wanted to cook something a bit special, something fun.  In the refrigerator I had beautiful eggplants that I had bought just the day before. I sliced the eggplant, salted the eggplant, breaded the eggplant, fried the eggplant, packed away half in wax paper, and placed the other half in a baking pan with tomato sauce and cheese to bake.

Po came home after a very long day at school. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

“I just had a snack; there is eggplant in the oven for dinner.”

“Woah, thank you, looks great. What is this stuff in the bowl?”

“Oh, that’s leftover raw egg, to make the eggplant.”

“There’s egg in the eggplant??”

“To batter the slices.”

“You battered the slices??”

“… Are you just being comical? YES, I battered the slices, I fried the eggplant, I baked it with sauce and cheese and spices. That’s how you cook eggplant.”

“When I make eggplant, I just cut it, smear with pizza sauce and cheese, and bake…”

 

So he starts eating while I am occupied elsewhere. I came back to find a couple small slices left in the pan. They were yummy.

I told Po there is still more fried eggplant in the ‘fridge, if he wants to have some more.

When I clean up before bed, I see all the eggplant is gone except one small, lonely slice.

I think to myself, “What happened? I did nothing this evening except cook this eggplant, and it’s gone, I have nothing to show for it. What a waste!”

But as I thought about it this morning, that’s a foolish, misleading way to think about it. Maybe I wanted some leftovers, but the eggplant is gone because it was GOOD, Po enjoyed it, it was consumed. A true waste would be if it was bad, and no one wanted much, and it stayed in the refrigerator until it went moldy. Neither would it have been good to make huge quantities of this oily delicacy; it’s really much better in moderation – I would have been annoyed if Po and I had gluttonous amounts over several meals.

“You should be proud and pleased,” I thought. And for a few pleasant moments I was, as I had my toast and coffee for breakfast… but that is another story for another day.