Baba Ghanoush

A few years ago I saw a comical television commercial and one of the components was a reference to a food called “Baba Ghanoush.”  They said the word and didn’t spell it, so I thought it was a funny made up name for a dish.  I loved the name and adopted it as the name for one of my “original” recipes.  I am a weekend chef—and I use the term chef loosely.  I often crank up the deep fryer on Friday nights and on Saturdays when I have more prep time I cook one of my tried and true dishes such as slow cooked barbeque or a soup or stew that I finally got right.  Phil’s squash soup is legend.

My culinary efforts fall into three categories: 1. Things I know how to cook; 2. Recipes I have seen and follow to the letter, and; 3.  Recipes that I mash up from real recipes with my own spin on them.  My mash up stuff meets with success about 50% of the time and of the 50% that I term a “success” only about 50% of the household actually likes the dish—but I claim victory nonetheless.

This brings me to a creation I foisted on the family one Saturday that was an amalgam of Pasta, cheese, ground beef, spinach and about ten other odds and ends that took the form of a casserole.  The family was skeptical as I started prepping the ingredients and I was pressed for a name for the dish that might give some indication it would be edible.  No such luck.  I informed everyone it was “Baba Ghanoush.”  My girls squirmed, my wife insisted on a list of ingredients and my son was simply intrigued by the name.  I refused to divulge further information other than to say that it was an old family recipe, which was not believed as my kids were quite familiar with my mother’s cooking repertoire and knew full well that she could not even pronounce Baba Ghanoush, let alone cook it.

My Baba Ghanoush was actually well received and the family tried to redefine it as just lasagna all mixed up, or a different recipe for Goulash.  Mission success nonetheless.

Fast forward to August 29, 2013, when, to my amazement, there was an article in the Hartford Courant about fire roasting eggplant.  I pretty much hate eggplant except when it is deep fried, so I was a bit skeptical.  However, anything that involves charring stuff on the grill is well within my culinary comfort zone.  The author, James P. DeWan, then provided three recipes for the roasted eggplant and lo and behold one was called Baba Ghanoush.  I nearly fell out of my chair upon learning that it is actually a dish that is a Middle Eastern staple (I don’t get out enough).

The ingredients were limited and after separating the eggplant from its charred skin everything goes into a food processor to make what amounts to a vegetarian dip.  I needed something new to cook and this was it.  I stuffed the recipe in my briefcase and pulled it out Saturday morning to make a list and compare it to the contents of the refrigerator and pantry.  My heart sank when I saw the first ingredient--Tahini.  Folks, I have been trolling the spice racks and produce sections of every market in the region for years and somehow Tahini escaped my attention.  Why does every damn recipe I try to mimic always have some oddball ingredient?  And by oddball I mean hard to find.  Typically the stumbling block I hit is fresh herbs as opposed to dry and inevitably Stop and Shop does not have the fresh variety which then leads to a painful scavenger hunt to find the elusive herb.  The harder it is to pull all of the ingredients together the less enthusiastic the reception at the dinner table, which only makes me curse the creator of the recipe under my breath.

I will often omit an ingredient I can’t find, if I think I can get away with it, but the list of ingredients for Baba Ghanoush was so short (eggplant, garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, cumin and salt) I didn’t think I could let the Tahini slide.  First order of business was to Google Tahini.  Ah, Sesame paste.  Yeah, that’s not even on my radar screen.  I do like Sesame seeds on bagels and on Sesame Chicken when I eat Chinese, but have never experienced it in paste form. 

I was able to get the eggplant, garlic and lemon at Krell Farm, and for laughs asked if they had any Tahini.  I got a blank stare from the ordinarily pleasant and chatty young lady at the counter.  I assured her that I only learned what it was a few hours earlier and mentioned that it is sesame paste and asked if their sesame crop had come in yet.  Do not let anyone tell you that the good people at Krell Farm do not take customer service seriously.  They offered to plant some sesame and make some paste just for me while I waited.  I did not have a year to wait so I continued on my quest to locate Tahini elsewhere.

The recipe only calls for two tablespoons but the only jar of the stuff I could find could make about twenty batches of Baba Ghanoush.  I hate to waste ingredients that are hard to find—AND are expensive.  I bit the bullet knowing that no one might like Baba Ghanoush and it would be lumped in with some of my other failed cooking efforts.  Good luck to me finding another use for Tahini.

The Baba Ghanoush was simple to make and for the life of me I could not taste the Tahini once it was mixed with the other ingredients—although I nearly gagged after licking it off the spoon as it clings to your tongue and bathes your mouth in Sesame flavor which really is not that great in big doses.  I kept adding salt to try to give it a little zip as they did say “salt to taste.” Well folks, I like lots of salt but need to balance my craving for salt against the rest of the family that treats it like a mildly poisonous substance that should only be taken by prescription from a medical doctor.  I typically eat with my own saltshaker in front of my plate.  Yes, that’s true.

The verdict:  Baba Ghanoush is just OK.  No one spit it out, but no one raved.  It was served with pita chips before dinner and there was an abundance left over.  Not wanting to waste it, and after giving the matter a little thought, I added one of my secret weapon ingredients, Worcestershire sauce, to the remainder.   I must observe that it tasted much better.  I tucked that little secret under my hat.  I am not giving up and can’t wait to see the family’s faces when I spring another batch of Baba Ghanoush on them—a new and improved Baba Ghanoush.  Maybe with the Worcestershire sauce I can call it “Boston Ghanoush.”