At least I'm not bitter

For a long time, i've loved eggplant. I love it in baba ganouj form; i love it japanese-style, broiled with miso, or else as tiny little pickles. I love it Chinese, in a spicy peanut sauce, or Italian as a component of ratatouille. I don't really like it breaded and deep-fried, but otherwise, I've rarely met an eggplant i didn't like.

Then there are these little guys. So cute, I thought when I spotted them at Eastern Market. Such delightful aubergine jewels. For a couple of dollars, I had a bagful. I daydreamed, looked up recipes, made plans for how I'd change my eating habits now that these new friends had entered my world. And then... and then...

I cut them up. I decided to saute them with some spices and tomatoes. I had them cooking over a fairly low heat, waiting for them to get soft and succulent. Now I know that eggplant can be bitter, but this was crazy. The cooking process seemed to actually release bitterness into the air. Soon I was literally gagging, choking on bitterness. I don't know how else to describe it. I turned on the fan, hoping to spare my neighbors, most of whom I've never met. Many of them are old, possibly weak, unlikely to fare well with bitterness vapors filling the lungs. I didn't want to be responsible.

I gagged. I actually gagged.

I turned off the heat and let the eggplant cool.

I dumped it all into the garbage and made a peanut butter sandwich.