Eggplants, you are the swollen, uncomfortable conflagration of a squash and a distended placenta. The color of a fresh bruise (or a festering bedsore) on the outside and of hardened smegma on the inside, you manage to be simultaneously slimy and mushy, no mean feat. For me, it’s your overall squashyness that sets my teeth on edge with every bite. Like biting into an apple but finding a larval worm, only instead of an apple, it’s something really good like lasagna, and instead of a worm it’s something really not good, like a human eye. And your taste — bitter as a mouthful of antifreeze, with the added aftertaste of aged cheese vomit.
What’s worse, everything bad I have ever said about other vegetables applies to you: You’re lousy raw but inedible cooked. You start to decay as soon as you’re opened and your inner color runs to all the various shades of snot. They don’t even mush you into baby food - and they mush every vegetable into baby food. That’s because babies know. You are rancid and evil and do not belong on a plate. Unless it is on fire being thrown from someplace high into someplace pointy. And even then I feel bad for the pointy things.
0/10. I feel gross just writing about you. If you need me, I’ll be in the shower crying like Silkwood for a couple hours just to wash off the ick.
image via Horst Frank/wikipedia