Eggplant Parmageddon

I believe I was nearly asked to leave my current house the other night, all for the mistake of making eggplant parmesan for dinner. (Perhaps mistake is not quite the right word, as I guiltily and secretly knew the havoc it would most likely unleash at the dinner table).

Anyhow, intentionally cruel or not, dinner was served. Faces were puckered, dishes pushed away, swallowing grimacing faces cast me disappointing eyes, as if to say look at what you are making me do. My 8-year-old host sister Jovi simply huddled in a doorframe, tears streaming down her face as she repeatedly wiped at her mouth for five minutes, trying to make all eggplant flavors leave. It was as if I had been invited to the national picky eaters convention and decided to serve curried brussel sprouts.

My other favorite chubby 9-yr-old, Romel, who scarfs down anything and everything that I prepare, poked slowly at his spaghetti (sans egglplant). “but elsie, you should have added sardines,” he said as everyone at the table who was bravely eating their noodles desperately cried out for more salt.

Half of me laughed a little inside at what horrible eaters my family (and majority of community) are, and the other half cried a little as my delicious spaghetti mixed with meat sauce, topped with fried eggplant and melted mozzarella (imported in from the nearest large town) was treated as the years culinary disaster. I broke nearly every culinary rule in my community in making this dish. It was not fried (well, just the eggplant), it did not include sardines, bananas, plaintains, rice, or canned meat, and there was no added msg. Also, and most horrific, it included an unheard of vegetable. I, however, was finally pleased with dinner.

Some cultural differences are hard to bridge, but I find you can usually ease the tension by making a butt or bodily function joke. Once my sister spilled her soup and sat in it and as her parents yelled at her for being clumsy, I laughed and told her to eat her butt soup. To this day, every time we eat soup the family calls it butt soup and laughs a jolly laugh. Now I am rambling, that anecdote had nothing to do with anything. Neither did the one before it. Except for the fact that I am here to help a community of people who hate vegetables build home gardens. (that’s an exaggeration, they do like some veggies, like culantro, tomatoes and peppers, which I will happily help them grow).

I also introduced some kids to Peanut butter the other week using the favorite childhood snack – ants on a log. People had been gossiping around town that I actually eat raw celery and this was confirmed when I served the kids celery with peanut butter and raisins. The pb was a big hit, the celery and raisins….not so much. I fail often, but I keep trying to sneak veggies into the diet here. People are sick all the time and need to eat healthier! I have had some success making carrot & orange and tomato & cucumber salads. Here’s a photo of happy pb sucking faces.



I don’t have a whole lot else to tell, as my entire past month as been spent building my house, which now only lacks walls. I like to tell everyone it is complete, in an “I live in a glass house” kind of way. Here is a bare bones preview from a few weeks ago. More to come later, but I will say this for now - it sure is pretty.