The tale of three tomatoes is epic. One of suspense, romance and intrigue. But I must digress first to tell you how I did cook something. Moussaka.
My choice for going the Moussaka route was two-fold. The first reason is that the last time I cooked an eggplant dish I bought an extra eggplant and it was languishing in the fridge. The second reason is that I tried moussaka once in a Greek restaurant and I really liked it. I didn’t realize that moussaka is the half-marathon of the culinary arts.
There is a lot of variation in moussaka recipes. I know this because I googled moussaka recipes and all of them seem to involve cooking the potatoes and eggplants before cooking them yet again in the casserole dish. Cooking twice? Really? I felt sure that I had stumbled upon a string of sadistic freaks and continued googling recipes for nearly an hour to find a way around what seemed like a cruel and horrible extra step. Yes, I see the irony. It was twice the time it would have taken me to actually do the extra step.
No dice. It seems that is the moussaka way. I ended up making an amalgam recipe through my thorough research however. I suppose it came closest to this one:
1 large eggplant
some olive oil
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 lb beef
1/2 teaspoon each ground cinnamon and allspice
2 spoonfuls tomato paste
1/2 cup red wine
400g can Italian chopped tomatoes
healthy sprinkling of dried breadcrumbs
½ c. butter
1/2 cup flour
4 c. milk
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
150g kefalograviera, coarsely grated – yeah, right. Let’s try parmesan
3 egg yolks – I’m not throwing egg whites away – went with 2 eggs, the whole thing
You can see I’m already getting cocky substituting ingredients. I’m not driving across town to find kefalograviera cheese. I’m just not. I also see no point in throwing away egg whites. Some chicken worked hard to make that.
It turns out that my oven has a broiler! And I know how to use it and I broiled those little eggplant slices after I had salted those little puppies and let them sweat out their little juices and patted them with a little paper towel. I’ve had worse days at the spa than those eggplant slices had that day.
Now the sauce is worthy of mention. Many recipes called this a béchamel sauce, which gave me quite a thrill. I’m a Downton Abbey fan and I envisioned myself as Daisy fretting about the béchamel and Mrs. Patmore shaking her head http://downtonabbey.wikia.com/wiki/Beryl_Patmore. I hadn’t known what they’ve meant by it, but can now report that it is merely a milk sauce.
The moussaka was quite good and, despite the rather finicky nature of the dish, I can see myself making it again. As for the diversity in the dish, it does rather well.
Though really, other than an extra hint of colour coming from the allspice, we’ve hit the same families as last time (Amarylidaceae: onions, garlic; Myrtaceae: allspice; Solanaceae: potatoes, eggplants, tomatoes; Oleaceae: olive oil; Myristicaceae: nutmeg; Lauraceae: cinnamon). Mind you, I’m only marking the plant diversity, not that coming from animal sources, which is admittedly full of nutrients as well.
Now, you have of course noted that Solanaceae was featured 3 times!!! Three members of the nightshade or tomato family….hmmmm…there’s a story brewing there…The Tale of Three Tomatoes.
This story stems from me trying to explain to my kids the idea of why I chart traits on phylogenies and why phylogenetic diversity would matter. Why does it matter if you keep eating the same things over and over as long as they are nutritious? To answer that question, we will take you on a journey…
As I began to recite the story my kids got excited and starting to give me rapidfire feedback. My daughter and her friend started providing illustrations on TuxPaint. My son, disgruntled with their typos (I think they are cute), shook his head and thought the least he could do was provide a proper starting tomato (this boss dude)
and some backstory. So without further ado:
“Once upon a time, there a population of Arcane Tomatoes (pictured above), the mighty Lycopersicons. They were peace loving but could be fierce warriors if provoked. As time went on, there was an event in their history known as the Great Divide, the circumstances of which are the thing of legend…”
As time went on, Canadian tomatoes had sex with other Canadian tomatoes, American tomatoes had sex with other American tomatoes, and other Mexican tomatoes had sex with Mexican tomatoes (Crossborder traffic waits were horrendous so all cross border matings ceased). Yes, tomatoes have sex. Lots. These little hedonists are just crazy for it and it’s a wanton bitrophic orgy come springtime. But that is a story for a different time.
Suffice it to say for now that the three tomatoes went their separate ways. My son assures me that each had their specific powers: the Canadian tomato is magical, the American tomato has super strength, and the Mexican tomato has superspeed and dexterity. [I’m not sure what the American tomato is so impatiently waiting for but the artists were sure that it fit with this particular tomato’s personality. I don’t think there is any political commentary attached to this].
Now, you’ll notice that this northward migration has consequences. The Northern two tomatoes started making more Vitamin E to combat the cold (this part has some truth to it, see Tammy Sage’s research) but the Mexican tomato kept pumping out the Vitamin A.
So there you have it. You need Vitamin A and E in your diet. If you are only going to eat two tomatoes, which two would you eat out of these three? Bet you picked a pair that optimized the phylogenetic diversity!
Hmmm…I guess if you just ate two that means that one tomato survives to be the Ruler Supreme. Would it be the one with Magical Powers or the one with Super Strength? …to be continued….