Our Easter traditions are pretty fluid. The strawberry pie is as close to a staple as we have and even that doesn't make the table every year. It definitely appears around Easter-time every year but not necessarily on Saturday night (for the Talbot dinner) or Sunday afternoon with my family. It all depends on what's happening. This year on Sunday we're at the Goodwin table and among the many offerings are ham, spinach, "better than sex" cake, and eggplants.
Eggplants are always referred to in the plural even though you may never see them as such in common usage. When referred to this way, they are always cut thin, breaded, fried, and served plain either as a side dish or eaten out of hand, really just out of pan. My Aunt Lucy made them when I was a child, nowadays I can either buy them in a good Italian deli or wait for Peg to make them. They fall into the category of food that tastes best when someone else cooks. As she fried them this afternoon people hovered around the pan or wandered in and out of the kitchen to nibble on crisp slices and offer opinions on the seasoning. Usually about half the supply is gone well before dinner is on the table. If there are any left over, they don't last longer than lunchtime the next day. People love them, even people who think they don't like eggplant.
So this Easter Sunday we wish you happiness and eggplants, meaning a day full of things that just make you feel good that you don't necessarily have to make for yourself.
