The Super Bowl Tradition Continues... LFG Patriots!
People coming to my annual Super Bowl party knew my eggplant parmesan would be the main dish. Susan made the apps, chicken wings, garlic bread, and the salad. It was her idea to have Super Bowl Sundaes for dessert, which I always thought was brilliant. There were always lots of friends, and I created a four-way grid where the winning scores changed each quarter, giving everyone more chances to win.
And then there was Super Bowl Monday. I let my kids stay home on Monday, and we spent the day hanging out in pajamas, eating leftovers, and talking about the game.
The last few years, there were no Super Bowl parties at our house. Most of the time, Susan watched with me until she got too tired. The last time I made eggplant parmesan was a year ago this Christmas, for Susan, two of her friends, Andrea and Cindy, Dylan, and Lexi. We had a great time, and the parm was delicious!
Since Dylan and Lexi bought their home in Norwood, they started hosting a Super Bowl party. I was glad to see them carry on the tradition like Susan and I had done for many years. This year, I decided to accept Dylan and Lexi's invitation to Super Bowl LX. Then Dylan asked if I could make an eggplant parm…
It's a lot of work, but more importantly, it brings back a lot of memories, some I wasn't sure I could handle. It was always Susan who chose the eggplants and picked up everything I'd need to make it. I'm still uncomfortable shopping at Big Y, especially when I pass the foods I always got for Susan when I was cooking for her.
At first, I told Dylan I wasn't making the Parm, but then a few of my friends urged me to make it. I thought about it, and I knew they were right. I had to bring my eggplant parm to Dylan's Super Bowl party. It really was my ticket to punch…
As I went up and down the aisles at Big Y, I took deep breaths and steadied myself when I started getting anxious. I continued pushing the cart up and down every aisle, picking up the sauce, cheese, breadcrumbs, olive oil, and eggs. I carefully selected four plump eggplants, one more than I needed, taking into account that there's usually one that might be unusable.
I cleaned the kitchen and assembled everything I was gonna need to make the parm. I almost forgot I needed to shim one of the legs on my electric fry pan with two quarters and a dime, and once I did and it was steady, I began the lengthy process of layering the fried eggplant, sauce, and mozzarella cheese. (There are two pounds of Galbani whole milk mozzarella in there. I don't put a lot on the top because it'll just burn when I bake it.)
Susan loved the smell of fried eggplant, and she always told me so, hinting she wanted a few pieces for herself. I always skin the eggplant first, before slicing it thinly, dipping it in egg, and then lightly coating it with Italian breadcrumbs. I fry it in extra-virgin olive oil, then set it on paper towels to absorb the excess oil. I always made extra so Susan could have some plain, the way she liked it.
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Dylan told me to make a smaller one than usual this year. My record on Barstool was 22.5 pounds in 2022. In 2023, after I completed each layer, I took a shot of Sambuca. By the end, there were nine layers, and one very shitfaced chef. Susan did the filming and helped with the cleanup, laughing hysterically the entire time. I passed out immediately after it was done.
I never expected to enjoy making it this year, but I did. And once I got a few layers done, my goal was to make as much parm as I could. When the pan was full, I squeezed in one more layer. I lost count, but I think there's at least eight. I took a pic of it on the scale, weighing in at a respectable 13.5 lbs. The new non-stick, non-toxic ceramic pan is a flyweight, weighing next to nothing.
After it was done, I baked it for 50 minutes at 350 degrees, let it cool, and then wrapped it in tinfoil. I remembered there was still an oversized roll on a shelf in the utility room downstairs, which we always used for Thanksgiving turkeys and my eggplant parm. Then I put it in the fridge, cleaned the stove and the countertop, and loaded everything into the dishwasher.
I knew Susan wouldn't want me to go to Dylan's Super Bowl party empty-handed, and that she'd want me to bring an eggplant parm. It was our tradition…
LFG!
Perry Knotts. Getty Images.