My wife wasn't to be dissuaded, however. She'd made stuffed eggplants, knew they'd go great with beer and proceeded to take them to a party. These were small eggplants (we picked them at a Vietnamese grocery), about an inch wide, not those humongeous purple dinosaurs. She'd taken the eggplants, quartered them, filled them with coconut-based masala and baked the the whole thing. I thought it was delicious but knew few people would see it that way.
So, I positioned myself beside the eggplants to watch the fun and to keep popping them in my mouth when no one was watching.
"Ooh," said the first unsuspecting victim, "onions!" The exclamation mark quickly vanished off her face.
"Hey," one animated guy asked me while shifting from one leg to another, "have you tasted those peppers with the refried beans in them?" "No," I answered in all honesty, "I've not tasted any refried beans." "You should," he countered, "those things taste so good and then when the damned thing hits you, your whole throat starts burning."
A group of college students had come in and a dare soon started going around. "Do I have to eat all four pieces?," asked the guy who was being dared. On the affirmative reply, he popped an eggplant in his mouth and quickly washed it down beer. He then shrugged non-chalantly, professed to not know what it was and walked away. The folks who had dared him seemed incredulous that the chap hadn't hit the roof.
The party was in full swing and the mystery dish still hadn't been identified. A middle-aged guy was asked to clear it up. He came by, looked it over, sniffed at it and nodded sagely. "Tomatillos," he told his audience, "roasted tomatillos."
And that was that. Next time, my wife will take chips and salsa.
