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Eggplant Sandwich 3 comments

Earlier today, I ventured out with my friend Veronica to the St. Lawrence Market.  I will say again the same phrase that I’ve said many many times: the St. Lawrence Market is my favourite place in Toronto.

Sure, the Brickworks Organic Market is charming, aloof, unregulated, rough-around-the-edges. Great burritos. Great vibe. Love it. Today is opening day for a new market near Wychwood Park, so must check that out. Kensington Market has its fervent and vocal supporters.

I’m a St. Lawrence Market kinda gal, though. It is in my blood. I’ve been going there for 15 years now and I know it like the back of my hand which is comforting. I know where to find the cheapest yet best olive oil in the city, the best granola in the city and which puveyors of cheese excel at specific cheeses. (Don’t get me started on cheeses, especially since I can’t eat many cheeses right now!)

Oddly, I never seem to enjoy it as much alone as when I can go with a friend, so I was pleased when Veronica said she’d be into making the trip.

The St. Lawrence Market has the Eggplant Sandwich to end all eggplant sandwiches. No, no … not the one in the basement slathered in tomato sauce and fried green peppers, served on foccacia. No. Blech.

The “death row” Eggplant Sandwich is available only here. At Future Bakery, upstairs, smack dab in the middle of the market. It is near and dear to my heart, this sandwich. My friend Amy and I have been eating this sandwich, and waxing rhapsodic over it, since we worked together on Front St. in 1993. 15 years I’ve been eating this sandwich and, remarkably, it hasn’t changed.

... yes, lots of olives please.

... yes, lots of olives please.

Getting the cut just right

Getting the cut just right



This sandwich is on a fresh Italian roll, buttered, slathered in Dijon mustard, delicately garnished with roasted red peppers, hot banana peppers, lettuce and tomatos. And olives. Lots and lots of olives. Hold the cucumbers. The eggplant itself is heated and has melted swiss cheese on it by the time it makes it into the sandwich.

I have been known to call ahead to Future Bakery to suggest (demand?) that they have eggplant on hand if I know ahead of time that I’m going to be there on a Saturday. Sometimes, you see, they run out. And this is bad. Very very bad.

So, in case I haven’t made myself clear, if I manage to wind up on death row someday and require a last meal, it is this sandwich, exactly as I have just described. Hold the cucumbers. Cucumbers would be bad. Very very bad.

Next weekend, November 28-29-30, my friend Amy, the original eggplant sandwich sharer, is coming into town and we are having our now annual “girls’ cottage weekend in the city”. We put the fireplace on, drink wine, eat good food and read books. We listen to music and gossip. We go to St. Lawrence Market. We attend the annual Women In Blues Revue. We eat some more. (uh oh) We pretend we are cut off from the rest of the world … but we might go shopping. It is a pre-Christmas distraction for both of us.

I see another eggplant sandwich in my near future (bakery). Yum .

EST and TOL Click Here To Comment!

Well, it is 7:30 a.m. EST, the time formerly known as 8:30 a.m. EDT, and I'm quite awake. Stocked up on coffee on a very successful trip to St. Lawrence Market yesterday, so am enjoying that.  

That was the EST portion of today's programming …now for the TOL portion (thinking out loud):

Kudos to Kaivalya for taking a run at NaBloMo (National Blog Month), a time when bloggers take up the challenge to post on their blog every single day for a month. Impressive, and sadly not something I can commit to right now, although I wish I could. The photos are a nice touch.

Kudos also to Dry Ice for keeping up with the challenge of blogging on something intensely personal, painful, and capable of taking up all the available space in one's life. I'm very glad you are blogging – please do keep it up.

I bought a new ring at the Market yesterday. There is a woman downstairs who sells jewelry imported from New Zealand made of abalone shell. This ring is a band with tiny squares of iridescent shell inset all around. I feel oddly relieved and grounded to be wearing something on the pinky finger of my left hand again. The ring I wore for, oh, 20 years or so broke this summer when I dropped it on the tile floor in the bathroom. It can be repaired – the moonstone split into three pieces and fell out of the setting. That pinky ring has quite a history with me. I bought it at a woman's bookstore in the early 80's and wore it on my right hand for a long time. When my l-t relationship ended in 2001, I moved it to my left hand to replace the commitment ring that my ex and I had exchanged. I told myself that it symbolized my commitment to staying true to myself, since I felt I had gone so far off course. In any case, it has taken a certain amount of discipline to ignore any implied symbolic meaning of shattering of the moonstone and just keep my eye open for someplace that might repair artisan-style (as opposed to fine jewelry style) pieces. I think I'll try the Canadian Craft Guild shop in Yorkville.

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