whole aubergines stuffed with tomato, onion and parsley, braised in enough olive oil to make an accountant weep
This dish is exactly what happens when Ottoman cooks had access to perfect summer aubergines, tomatoes that actually tasted of something, and the kind of olive oil you didn't ration. The imam fainted — legend says from the bill, but more likely from the first spoonful of something so simple it broke him. We make it the old way: cold, luxurious, a little shocking in its generosity.
Trim the green crown from each aubergine. Slit each one lengthwise from just below the crown to about 1cm from the base — you're not cutting all the way through, just creating a pocket. Lay them on a board, cut-side up, and salt the insides lightly. Leave for 10 minutes; they'll weep slightly. This stops them from soaking up oil like a sponge later.
Slice the onions into thin half-moons. Warm 60ml of oil in a wide pan over medium heat — do not rush. Add the onions and cook for 8 minutes until they turn translucent and soft. Dice the garlic and tomatoes (reserve any juice), add them both to the pan with a pinch of salt, and cook for another 8 minutes, stirring occasionally. The tomatoes should begin to collapse. Chop the parsley roughly and stir it in with the sugar. Taste and adjust — this filling should be sweet-savoury, not sour.
Pat the aubergines dry inside with kitchen paper — they'll have sweated. Spoon the filling into each slit, distributing it evenly and packing gently so it stays put. Don't overstuff; you're filling a pocket, not building a monument.
Heat the remaining 140ml of oil in a heavy braising pan or wide earthenware dish over medium heat. Arrange the stuffed aubergines cut-side up in a single layer. Pour any remaining filling and juice over and around them. The oil should come halfway up the sides of the aubergines — if it doesn't, add a touch more. Bring to a gentle simmer, then reduce heat to low. Cover loosely with foil and braise for 45 minutes. The aubergines should be completely soft — a fork should pierce the flesh without resistance — and the oil should smell nutty.
Remove from heat and let the aubergines cool in the oil for at least 30 minutes. The flavour will improve as they cool. You can serve at room temperature (the proper way) or chilled the next day. This dish is better made a day ahead — the flavours marry and deepen.
“Arrange each aubergine cut-side up on a shallow plate or a small earthenware dish. Spoon the filling and oil around it generously — this is not a dish that looks meagre. A scatter of fresh parsley if you like, but honestly the plate should shine with oil and the aubergine should speak for itself. Serve with flatbread on the side to soak up everything.”
The first bite is soft, almost yielding to the tooth. Then the filling — sweet-sour tomato, melt-softened onion, a whisper of garlic — comes through, and underneath it all is the silky heat of the oil. There's a moment, two-thirds through, where you stop thinking about food and just eat. Finish with flatbread; you'll want every drop.
A local white with enough body to stand up to the oil, enough acidity to cleanse between bites
Cold lager cuts through the richness; crisp and honest, like the dish itself
Ayran is the traditional companion — tangy and cooling; water with lemon works too if you want to stay dry
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