Eggplant Parmesan: You're welcome, part 10.

Eggplant.

I looked it up to describe what it tastes like, and sadly I found an entire forum that likens it to 'barf.' This made me sad, because 1.) no one wants a barf-o-Rama and 2.) I'm on an eggplant kick these days. I enjoyed it for the first time at a delicious Italian joint in downtown Indianapolis, called Iaria's. Their eggplant Parmesan was so good, I don't think I would ever go back to chicken Parmesan.

To me, eggplant has a pretty similar taste and texture to zucchini. It takes on the flavor of whatever you're cooking with, but there is something about combining it with peppers and onions that makes it so flavorful.

So, here is my attempt at converting any anti-eggplanters out there. I ate this the day after I made it, and the flavor was really nice. I also used fresh basil from my freaking gigantic basil bush in our backyard. Ours looks like a tree. You could tie a hammock to it.

• 1 eggplant, peeled and sliced 1/2 inch thick
  
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 4 cups Italian seasoned bread crumbs
• 6 cups spaghetti sauce, divided
• 1 (16 ounce) package mozzarella cheese, shredded and divided
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
• 1 cup chopped green, red or yellow peppers and onions, your choice
• slat and ground black pepper for seasoning
  

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. Dip eggplant slices in egg, then in bread crumbs.
   
3. Use 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heated skilled and cook eggplant until golden brown.
4. In a 9x13 inch baking dish spread spaghetti sauce to cover the bottom. Place a layer of eggplant slices in the sauce. Sprinkle with mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses. Repeat with remaining ingredients, ending with the cheeses. Sprinkle basil on top.
5. Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes, or until golden brown.

These Shoes Suck

In an ode to my favorite youtube link, I write to you about a serious matter.

Growing up with ham hocks for feet never really bothered me as a kid, because I didn't care what I looked like (see profile pic). Pink moccasins with red corduroy pants were fine – more than fine, in fact. It was portrait-day worthy. I also recall spending a large portion of my middle school days wearing this fine pair of white, leather keds. They didn't have them in my size, so I think I romped around the playground in a loose-fitting size 11. Let's be honest, I spent the majority of my younger days wearing athletic shoes and eating small children, so it was never hard finding clodhoppers that fit my giant Hobbit feet.

As an adult, my quest to find remotely attractive shoes in the 10+ size range remains completely dehumanizing and fruitless. Last week's trip to TJMaxx only solidified these feelings. I always set myself up for failure when I start my search in the size 6 aisle. Mary janes, black leather stilettos, summer wedges, formal dress heels, ballerina flats, retro sneakers – you name it, they have it in size 6. The color selections are endless, the designer names are plentiful and they're always restocking the shelves with new pairs.

As I slowly approach the 10+ row (yes, they actually add a plus sign to the end of it, like you just fell off the growth chart of human possibility), you can almost hear the sound of elephants stampeding to find their aisle. It's like an island of misfit toys section of leftover fabric and plastic soles that could be salvaged into a Frankenstein shoe and other clearance items that have no hope to ever find a home.

This is my section. Pics above are not staged.

The options are limitless. It's either Grandma's closet or Raymond Babbitt, your choice. I choose suicide.

Fuck you, plus-sized shoes aisle. That is all.