Eggplant

The eggplants at the fruit stand

Were on sale for just a buck.

My husband’s eggplant-picking rules

Inside my head were stuck:

 

You want one that is firm but light.

I didn’t question why,

But hefting two, the heavy one

I therefore didn’t buy.

 

It seems I made the perfect choice,

For, sliced up very thin,

Then bread-crumb topped and fried in oil,

The taste just made me grin.

 

I’m married to a man who cooks

And gears things to my taste.

That eggplant filled a platter high,

But none will go to waste.

 

To think, a meal with plenty left,

With pasta on the side,

At a cost of just a dollar,

Left me more than gratified.