Of Carlo, vacations, ankles, risotto and me: caponata

That's a long title, but I shall explain as best I can. Many years ago, Carlo Middione wrote a cookbook called "The Food of Southern Italy." To say that it was ahead of its time is an understatement. Published in 1987, it clearly preceded the current rush to regionalism in cooking, where it sometimes seems it's not enough to cover "The Cooking of Rome," but "The Cooking of the following three streets." I think it is fair to say that, at the time, the country was very much enamored of NORTHERN Italian cooking, and southern cooking was thought of as red sauce and pasta and meatballs and nothing more. Carlo's book, if you had it, changed all of that. Yes, there were classics in it that everyone knew, but there was SO much more. I used the book often - Guy and I were vegetarians at the time, and there is so much lucious vegetable based cooking out of Southern Italy that you can cook for months without repeating yourself - even though you'll want to. I use the book for a few recipes today, and I'm going to go back. Everytime I read the book, I feel inspired.
Carlo is a San Francisco centered chef. One year, just before we were going on vacation, a review of his restaurant came out in the late, lamented "Gourmet." It turned out that the restaurant was exactly two blocks from where we stay when we visit. We got a last minute reservation with no problem, met a wonderful waiter, named Kevin, and Carlo himself.
Without knowing it, this was the first time I was exposed to seasonal cooking. There was a strawberry tart on the dessert menu, and the waiter came by to say that Carlo did not feel that the strawberries were good enough that day, so he had substituted something else. I do not recall what that was, but this was something that was exciting at the time: the food isn't good enough, so you don't make it. HUH??? Also, there were no salt and pepper shakers on the table. There WAS a note on the menu that said "we feel our food is correctly seasoned. If you disagree, please discuss it with us." BRAVO. I don't put out salt and pepper either, and if people feel slightly intimidated in asking for it, GOOD.
OK, so where comes the ankle? Well, it was 1998. We were on vacation in the fall and I had a freak accident. Three days into the vacation, I "sprained" my ankle. For those who do not know, spraining an ankle can be worse than breaking a bone. Before you could say "metatarsus," I was on crutches.

Try to imagine a more than slightly overweight 40 year old trying to get around San Francisco's hills, on crutches. It was NOT going to work and, with great regret, we cut our vacation short. I still remember being miserable that last day as we spent it in our hotel room, watching television, Guy being the support he always has been as we waited for the time we needed to get to the airport - a red eye flight.

There WAS time for dinner, and we were hungry. Carlo's restaurant was about as far as we could get, and there we went. Kevin was there, gently taking my crutches and announcing the specials. He winced as he talked about the white truffle risotto, at 48 dollars a serving.

Remember, this was 1998. I remember Guy saying "it's too much money, NO." And I remember saying "Look, we just saved hundreds of dollars by going home early, have one memory that's good."

It may very well have been the finest risotto we've ever eaten. We didn't finish, took it on the plane, and, well, it didn't hold up. But that was ok.

Carlo's restaurant is long gone. He has a smaller place, the features more informal food, and I miss that restaurant with the door in the shape of a big, opened mouth, I miss his laugh, his smile and all that wonderful food. Still , I have the memories, and I have the cookbook.

This is one of the recipes I make a lot. You can buy jars of caponata. Because you CAN, doesn't mean you SHOULD. In fairness, this dish is somewhat intensive, work wise, but you can pull it off. It's really great. You will love it, and if you have vegetarian friends, they will love you forever for this.

Grazie Carlo, I hope I get to see you again.

Let's get to work. First, the vegetables. you need a pound of fresh tomatoes, that you chop up roughly. Put them aside. Then, about 1.5-2 pounds of eggplant. This is where you use the big ones. I like the light purple ones, but use what you've got. Peel them, and chop them into small cubes. Surgical precision is not necessary here, but do make em small. Also chop up a big onion, and enough celery to measure a cup. Keep all of these veggies separate.

Now, get about 2 tablespoons of salted capers and put em under water. Do the same thing with 2 tablespoons of raisins, be they black or gold (I prefer the gold here). Pit about half a cup each of black, and green olives, and chop them roughly. Also, get a generous couple of tablespoons of pine nuts.

Are you sweating already ? Trust Annalena here ,it's worth it. If you can, put two frying pans alongside each other on the stove. Pour about a third of a cup of olive oil in one of them, and start heating it. After about three minutes, put in the eggplant, all of it, AND LEAVE IT ALONE FOR THREE MINUTES. After you've done that, put a few tablespoons of olive oil in the other pan, and add the celery.

Now, start moving around the eggplant, lowering the heat when you do. I try to stir it every minute and a half/two minutes. It will stick, it will brown, but don't worry, you'll be ok. Meanwhile, stir the celery every now and then.

After you've cooked the eggplant for fifteen minutes, move it and the cooked celery into a bowl. Put a few more spoons of olive oil into the pan where you cooked the celery (put the eggplant pan aside), and cook the onion, for about ten minutes. Now, add it to the eggplant and celery, and the fun begins.

Get that eggplant pan, and add the cooked vegetables. Drain the capers and the raisins and add them. Add the tomatoes, add the olives, add the pine nuts. Finally, pour in two tablespoons of red wine vinegar and add a few teaspoons of salt. Bring the heat to low, and cook, stirring every few minutes for about twenty minutes.

What will happen is all that brown goodness on the bottom of the pan will dissolve into the tomato juice, and the mix will at first be very liquid. As it cooks, it will thicken and tighten. Eventually, you'll hear Lidia Basitanich's favorite sound, the "crackle" indicating that you're just about out of liquid. At that point, the vegetables will begin to stick to the pan, and you know, you're done.

Taste it. If you want it more salty, of course. Sweeter? More raisins. Tarter? More vinegar.

Refrigerate it, and it will keep for a long time. Put it on bread, or into pasta, or under a piece of grilled fish. That's the way I like it, but do it however you like.

I hope that you're fortunate enough to have good food memories, even if they're bittersweet, and that the sweet memories outweigh the bad. Tell me about them if you do.