The aubergine, one vegetable and ten kitchens

The aubergine comes from India, where it has been grown for more than two thousand years. It crossed into Persia, then followed the Arab expansion to Spain and Sicily. The kitchens it passed through did more than adopt it: each one invented a way to tame it, because this vegetable does not behave like the others.

The problem with aubergine

A sponge for oil

A raw aubergine is a sponge. Its flesh holds pockets of air that pull oil into the pan within seconds. Then, as the cells break under heat, some of that oil comes back out. Hence the sense of waste when you cook it without a method.

Two answers exist, and the world’s kitchens divide between them. Either you drive the air out first, with salt or a spell in the oven. Or you accept the oil and treat it as an ingredient in its own right, which is what Turkey does without apology.

What salt does, and does not do

On salting, the old reason given was bitterness. Modern varieties are no longer bitter, breeding settled that. Salt still earns its place: it draws out water, collapses the flesh and cuts oil uptake. Thirty minutes does the job, then wipe the slices dry.

Charring, arrived at twice

Several kitchens with no contact between them reached the same move: set the whole aubergine over a bare flame until the skin blackens and the flesh gives way. Smoke enters the vegetable, and water leaves it.

Levantine baba ganoush turns that burnt flesh into a purée with tahini and lemon, where the bitterness of the char answers the bitterness of the sesame. Indian baingan bharta starts from the same place but crushes the aubergine into a base of onion, tomato and ginger, then reduces it until it turns dense.

Iran goes further with Caspian mirza ghasemi: smoked aubergine, garlic in quantity, tomato, and beaten eggs folded in at the end to bind it. You eat it warm rather than hot, with bread.

To char one at home, let the skin blacken all over without trying to rescue it. A properly burnt aubergine slumps, and its stem comes away on its own.

Stuff it, stew it, confit it

Turkey gave the aubergine its best-known dish, imam bayildi, split open and filled with melted onion, garlic and tomato, then baked in the quantity of olive oil that gave the dish its name. It is served cold or at room temperature, never hot, because set oil carries the scent of the onion better.

Sicily pushed towards sweet and sour with caponata, where fried aubergine meets celery, capers and a sweetened vinegar. That contrast came from the island’s Arab kitchens and stayed on after they left. Caponata improves after a day in the fridge.

Morocco keeps it plainer: zaalouk melts aubergine and tomato together in olive oil with cumin and paprika until you have a paste to scoop up with bread.

China and Lebanon: two extremes

Sichuan garlic aubergine shows another logic. Cut the aubergine into batons, sear it fast over high heat, then coat it in a sauce of garlic, ginger and black vinegar. Cooking time runs to minutes, and the flesh stays silky instead of collapsing.

At the other end, Syrian makdous keeps small aubergines for months. You blanch them, press them under a weight overnight, stuff them with walnuts and red pepper, then cover them in olive oil. Almost nothing cooks; salt and oil do the work.

Kitchen	Treatment	What you get
Levant	Charred then puréed	Smoky flesh, smooth texture
India	Charred then stewed	Dense and spiced
Turkey	Stuffed, cooked in oil	Meltingly soft, served cold
Sicily	Fried then sweet-sour	Firm pieces, sharp sauce
Sichuan	Seared over high heat	Silky, very quick
Syria	Salted and preserved	Firm, sliced cold

Choosing and cutting

Pick aubergines heavy for their size, with tight skin and no soft patch. A light one has dried out and its flesh will turn woolly.

Cut at the last moment: the flesh browns fast in air. Keep the skin on for short cooking, since it holds the pieces together. In charred purées you throw it away, having already done its job of carrying the smoke.