Bohèmienne Rhapsody

 
fig. a: height of season

fig. a: height of season

Speaking of tomatoes

If you’re looking for another way to make use of the abundance of peak tomatoes available at the moment, look no further.

This is a show-stopper of a recipe that has been a house staple ever since we first encountered it in Richard Olney’s A Provençal Table: The Exuberant Food and Wine from the Domaine Tempier Vineyard (a.k.a., Lulu’s Provençal Table: The Exuberant Food and Wine from Domaine Tempier’s Vineyard). In fact, in many ways, it was this very dish that began what could safely be labelled a long-term Richard Olney obsession.

As Olney makes clear, this dish is essentially a spread, one made with the finest tomatoes and the most perfect eggplant you can find, it’s versatile—you can serve it hot, warm, tepid, or cold—and it’s a classic part of the Provençal apéro repertoire. It’s a simple dish, but one whose poetic name—Bohèmienne—captures its mysterious transcendental properties.

Olney clearly thought very highly of the Bohèmienne, and it’s a dish whose magic and whose associations with Bandol’s Domaine Tempier vineyard is crucial to an understanding of that Berkeley-Provence connection that brought together the talents and the vision of Olney, Alice Waters, Kermit Lynch, and others.

fig. b:  a fine specimen of an eggplant

fig. b: a fine specimen of an eggplant

Just as the tomatoes began to hit their peak this year, we received a letter from our dear friend OM, who recalled encountering this fabled eggplant-tomato dish at a dinner party we threw years and years ago in Montreal, during one of our first attempts to recreate the grandeur of a true Grand Aïoli—one that Olney himself would have been proud of. I’m sure these early stabs at Provençal cuisine in the grand tradition must have been hilarious—they were definitely high on enthusiasm, even if we were mere novices at the time—but apparently the Bohèmienne left an impression. “I remember it being deeply satisfying, salty and pungent, with that lovely creaminess of eggplant at its peak,” was the way OM recalled it, and with a surplus of tomatoes and eggplants on her hands, she asked if we could provide her with the recipe. We were all too happy to help out.

The dish’s pungency—and some of its salt—comes from the addition of salt anchovies. If you don’t have salt anchovies on hand, you should try to find anchovies packed in olive oil. And if you’d prefer a vegetarian version (vegan, even) of the Bohèmienne, you can just omit them—you’ll have to finesse the dish with some extra salt (and maybe a little extra love), but it’s quite possible to make a luscious version that’s entirely anchovy-free. But I really, really recommend the anchovies if you’re not a strict vegetarian. They’re the “secret ingredient” that really makes this dish sing.

And while I’ve placed an emphasis on the eggplant and the tomatoes—with good reason—the third most important component of a Bohèmienne is the garlic, of course. Use the freshest, juiciest hard-neck garlic you can find (preferably local and organic). Your tomatoes and eggplant are bursting with flavour—why shouldn’t your garlic be as well?

fig. c:  garlic in august

fig. c: garlic in august

Otherwise, making a great Bohèmienne is all about the method. As usual, is Olney is nothing if not precise when it comes to his instructions. Avoid cutting corners and this Bohèmienne will pay you back handsomely.

We were so moved by OM’s letter—and transcribing the recipe for her made me so ravenous for Bohèmienne—that we promptly made a batch a couple of days later. The next day, we brought part of our batch to a small (socially distanced) dinner party, and though the table was loaded with goodies of all kinds, in many ways, it was this rustic eggplant-tomato spread that stole the show. Nobody had had a concoction like it ever before, and everything about the dish spoke SUMMER loud and clear.

Bohémienne

6 tbsp olive oil

1 large onion, halved and finely sliced

3 cloves garlic, crushed and peeled

2 pounds eggplant, peeled, sliced into rounds, salted on both sides for 30 minutes and pressed dry between paper towels

2 pounds tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and coarsely chopped

3 salt anchovies (or 6 anchovy fillets)

salt and pepper

Warm 4 tbsp of the olive oil in a large, heavy pot [Olney recommends a “wide-surfaced cooking vessel,” one whose surface area will aid with “evaporation and reduction”].  Add the onion and cook over low heat, stirring regularly with a wooden spoon, until softened but not coloured.  Add the garlic and eggplant; cook until softened, stirring regularly.  Add the tomatoes, turn up the heat, and stir until they begin to disintegrate and the mixture begins to boil.  Lower the heat to maintain a simmer, uncovered, for an hour or more.  Stir regularly, crushing the contents with the wooden spoon and, after about 45 minutes, crush regularly with a fork to create a coarse purée from which all liquid has evaporated.  Toward the end, it should be stirred almost constantly to prevent sticking and the heat should be progressively lowered.

Pour remaining 2 tbsp olive oil into a small pan, lay out the anchovy fillets in the bottom, and hold over very low heat until they begin to disintegrate when touched or when the pan is shaken.  Remove the eggplant-tomato purée from the heat and stir in the anchovies and their oil.  Taste for salt and grind over pepper.  If prepared in advance, transfer the bohémienne to a bowl and leave, uncovered, to cool completely before covering and refrigerating.

serves 8

Serve with crusty bread and a cold, crisp glass of rosé—a beautiful Bandol like Domaine Tempier’s rosé would be wonderful, of course, but the price on these have crept up steadily over the years, and any one of a number of French or Italian rosés or rosatos would also make for an excellent accompaniment. At the moment, we’re particularly fond of an especially ethereal Corsican wine from Domaine de Marquiliani known as “Rosé de Pauline”. On the night we brought the Bohèmienne to that recent dinner party, it was paired with Swick’s lusty “Only Zuul.”

Though we typically serve our Bohèmienne warm, or at room temperature, Olney notes that the dish is sometimes served hot, as a gratin. Just "spread it into a shallow oven dish, sprinkle it with dried bread crumbs and olive oil,” and bake it in the oven.

aj