In Japan, eggplants reach their peak of flavor during a period of time known as zansho (literally "lingering heat"), the equivalent of mid-August through late September. Such aki nasu, or autumn eggplants, are especially tasty. And, because eggplant is thought to cool the body (probably due to an unusually high concentration of minerals and phytonutrients in late-harvest fruit), dishes made with them are particularly inviting on days when heat and humidity sap the appetite.
Most varieties of Japanese eggplants boast tender, deeply purple skins and juicy, pale yellow-green flesh. They are all nearly seedless, and some varieties, such as Kamo nasu grown around Kyoto, are bulbous and squat. Others, such as Hakata nasu grown in Kyushu, are long and slender. All true Japanese varieties have a dark calyx, not a green one. Most people think of eggplant and other members of the nightshade family such as tomatoes as vegetables because of their savory taste — botanically, however, they are fruit.
The Japanese have a fondness for kotowaza (aphorisms) that embody tidbits of folk wisdom. Many kotowaza use food as a seasonal point of reference, and the best-known kotowaza concerning eggplants goes: “Aki nasu wa yome ni kuwasu na” ("Never serve autumn eggplants to a daughter-in-law”).
Most Japanese will tell you that the phrase means autumn eggplants are so delicious that young brides don’t deserve them. If you are unfamiliar with Japanese humor regarding in-laws, you should know that jokes are usually directed at the husband’s mother, instead of to the detriment of the wife’s mother, which is the typical pattern in many Western countries. In Japan, daytime talk show hosts will commiserate with young brides who are bridled with spiteful shūtome (mothers-in-law).
Here, aki nasu are such a prize that it’s mother-in-laws being reminded that their delicate flavors should be saved and savored all for themselves.
Interestingly, there is another lesser-known interpretation of the same kotowaza claiming concern for the bride’s health and the family’s future progeny. Since Japanese eggplants are nearly seedless, there is the (symbolic) suggestion that the bride who indulges in the pleasures of eggplant might become “without seed” — in other words, childless. And even should the marriage be fruitful, eggplant’s cooling effect on bodily functions was thought to raise the odds of miscarriage. In this interpretation, a thoughtful but worried mother-in-law who avoids serving autumn eggplants to her daughter-in-law does so not out of greed but concern.
One of my favorite ways to prepare eggplant is stuffed with a miso-seasoned ground chicken mixture. The classic version of this dish is called “nasu no hasami age,” and the eggplant is traditionally deep-fried, though many home cooks (myself included) prefer to avoid this, especially in hot weather. Therefore, my rendition calls for a pan-seared adaptation.
A final note: After you’ve bought your eggplant from your local market, don’t toss them directly into the refrigerator, which will often cause the flesh to go spongy and flabby. Ideally, eggplants should be stored, wrapped in newspaper or paper towels, at room temperature in a cool location until you’re ready to cook.
Chicken-stuffed pan-fried autumn eggplant
Makes two portions as a main dish or four portions as a side
Ingredients:
- 4 aki nasu (about 80 grams each)
- 2-3 tablespoons potato or cornstarch
- 1½ tablespoons vegetable oil
For the chicken stuffing:
- 200 grams ground raw chicken (preferably dark meat)
- 1 teaspoon shiro (white) miso
- 20 grams ginger (grated or finely minced)
- 1 slender scallion (minced)
For the sauce:
- 2 tablespoons water
- 1 tablespoon shoyu
- 2 teaspoons sugar
- 2½ tablespoons kurozu (black vinegar)
To garnish:
- 1 teaspoon finely minced scallions
Directions:
Rinse the eggplants, pat them dry and then trim away the stems, taking care to remove the petal-like calyxes atop each. Cut each eggplant in half lengthwise, then place the sections on your cutting board with the fleshy inner surface facing down.
One at a time, make a single slit parallel to the cutting board leaving half an inch still attached at each stem end. This creates a flap in the eggplant segment we’ll make use of later. Next, make fine, very shallow slits to crosshatch the skin of each segment — this crosshatching will help ensure that the meat stuffing cooks thoroughly. Repeat for all eight segments of eggplant.
With a dry pastry brush dipped in your cornstarch, lightly dust all cut surfaces of the eggplant, then set them aside while you assemble the sauce.
In a small saucepan, combine the water, shoyu, sugar and vinegar. Cook over low heat, stirring just until the sugar has melted and the mixture is well combined. If you’re pressed for time, this can also be made in advance and stored in the refrigerator.
In a separate bowl, add all of the stuffing ingredients. Once well combined, gather the mixture with your hands and pitch it back into the bowl. It will be slightly sticky, but don’t let this deter you. Repeat a few times, then transfer the mixture to a container where you can divide it into eight portions.
Using a butter knife or a small, flexible spatula, spread a single portion of the chicken mixture under the flap in one of the pieces of eggplant. Spread the mixture on the bottom surface of the slit, then press down lightly with the top surface to fix it into place. Lightly dust all surfaces of the eggplant, then repeat for the remaining seven segments.
In a skillet, just large enough to hold the eggplant segments in a single layer (I used a 26 centimeter-diameter pan), add your vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Place the eggplant segments in the skillet with the skin side down (this will help keep the purple color nice and bright). Press on them lightly with an otoshi-buta (drop lid) to flatten the segments slightly and ensure the skin comes in contact with the oiled surface of the skillet.
After one minute or so, carefully flip the pieces of eggplant over so that the skin side is now facing up. Continue to sear for two more minutes. If you’re concerned about the meat filling being fully cooked, you can test its doneness by inserting a thin, sharp skewer (metal or bamboo) through the thickest part of the eggplant. The skewer should find no resistance, and the juices from the meat should run clear.
Serve piping hot or cooled to room temperature. Arrange the eggplant segments on a dish or in a shallow bowl, then spoon some sauce over the segments and garnish with a sprinkling of scallions.
With your current subscription plan you can comment on stories. However, before writing your first comment, please create a display name in the Profile section of your subscriber account page.