Many of us think of late summer and early fall as tomato-sauce-making season. But this time of year also elicits memories of another culinary tradition for many Southern Italians – stuffed eggplants!
Stuffed eggplants (melanzane ripiene or chini in the Calabrese dialect) always trigger bittersweet memories that remind me of my mom. Making them was an end-of-summer ritual that involved our entire family. My husband and I have continued the tradition for over forty years, like dutiful children of Italian immigrants. We usually get things going on the first Sunday of September (which coincides with the feast day of San Nicodemo – the patron saint of my parents’ hometown of Mammola).
Seedless baby eggplants, best for this recipe, are most abundant by late summer. Cut them in half lengthwise and boil them until the centre is fork-tender. Once cooled, carefully scoop out the flesh or pulp and any excessive moisture. Set the hollowed-out eggplant skins aside. In a bowl combine the eggplant pulp, some grated Romano cheese, breadcrumbs, one or two eggs, some freshly chopped basil, a chopped hot pepper, and one or two cloves of crushed garlic. Stir until the mixture is smooth. With a spoon, fill the eggplant skins with the mixture. Brush some egg white on top of each stuffed eggplant and fry on both sides for three or four minutes, or until the filling is golden brown. We always enjoyed our melanzane chini by topping them with quartered San Marzano tomatoes and my dad’s red wine.
The eggplant has woven its way into the fabric of Mediterranean cuisine over the centuries, becoming not just a staple, but also a symbol of the region’s rich agricultural history and culinary diversity. A variety of eggplant recipes are common also in Sicily, Campania, and Puglia. The Calabrese melanzane ripiene recipe cited here appears in the Italian government’s National List of Traditional Agri-Food Products as a protected designation!
Ironically, eggplants are not native to Southern Europe. They were introduced to the region from their native India by the Arabs, who ruled Calabria and other parts of the Mediterranean well into the Middle Ages.
In some ancient cultures, eggplants came to be viewed as a symbol of fertility. This view is consistent with some modern conceptions, symbolised namely by the eggplant emoji. But we’ll leave that discussion for another time…
Fried stuffed eggplants (photo by the author)
When we were little, my sister and I would keenly watch our mom as she carefully sliced the baby eggplants in half and scooped out the spongy inside. “This part is like letting go of the past,” she would say. “Then, we fill them with love and flavour for the future, and wish everyone good health and ‘buona fortuna.’” As the eggplants sizzled in the frying pan, the kitchen was filled with an irresistible aroma that wrapped itself around us like a warm hug.
I can never make the recipe without being reminded of my mother’s stories. I picture our family’s home on Via Unione, where my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother were born. I imagine my little sister peering in. “Cooking is about remembering, cherishing, and sharing. It’s how we stay alive in the hearts of those we love,” my mom would say.
The last time I made stuffed eggplants with my mother, her health was deteriorating. She looked on approvingly, but helplessly. Later that week she went to a scheduled medical appointment at the hospital and never returned.
“These are the flavours that tell our story. They connect us to those who came before us.” Even the sizzling sounds of frying are poetic. “Listen to the music of the eggplants, as they dance in the frying pan,” she’d say, closing her eyes. “It’s the sound of happiness being created.”
Maria Luisa Ierfino-Adornato is a Montreal freelance writer and author. She is a regular contributor to Accenti and other periodicals. Maria Luisa was the winner of the 2021 Accenti Magazine Writing Contest.
