The Ayn Rand Cookbook
by Ayn Rand
Objectivist Publications, 1,088 pp; $29.49
Although well-known for her massive novels The Fountainhead (about an architectural genius who blows up his own skyscraper) and Atlas Shrugged (about a group of fiercely individualistic anti—union entrepreneurs who band together and go on strike), Ayn Rand was something of a culinary devotee–or so the publication of this hitherto unsuspected book of recipes would suggest.
Written in her trademark “romantic realist” style, this large collection includes recipes unique to its author, such as “I Need No Warrant for Being Green Beans,” “Rational Pumpkin Muffins of the Highest Intelligence,” and “Chicken Baked Only for Itself.”
But Rand also includes a number of classics, such as the recipe for Eggplant Rollitini, below. Readers–and cooks–who can accommodate themselves to the author’s somewhat dense, philosophical style will find much food for thought, and thought for food, in this important, immense, inspiring, overwhelming cookbook.
Eggplant Rollitini
Ingredients
- Non-stick olive oil spray, of a kind men use, not only to convey heat to food being prepared, but as a lubricant, to prevent the sticking and scorching that renders food subjected to excessive heat unworthy of its creator
- 2 cups all-purpose flour, so often despised for its being bleached, disreputable and disdained among the self-proclaimed authorities in nutrition, who have never themselves actually cooked anything
- 4 large eggs, beaten—with a quiet confidence–to blend
- 3 ½ cups breadcrumbs. Whether they are of the Japanese panko variety, or the more familiar granulated kind is of no consequence. It is to be preferred that they be unseasoned, free of the desiccated, flavorless dried herbs and adulterating enhancements which are the crutch and the fallback of the sluggard, the bum, the cheater, the short-cutter, the easy-way taker.
- 2 2/3 cups grated Parmesan cheese from a chunk the existence of which is changed, forever, by its transformation into a pile of coarse meal or a cloud of fine wisps
- 2 medium eggplants, sliced the long way, in ¼ inch thick slabs, each perfectly itself, each content in its being, each possessing a solidity as much as to proclaim to men, “I am this.”
- 3 cups grated mozzarella cheese, taking care to assure that you are the agent of its grating. Do not wait for the mozzarella to grate itself. Do not complain if it sits there, inert, remaining stubbornly ungrated without your conscious decision to grate it. If you do not grate it, then no one will, unless you buy the pre-grated kind.
- 1/2 cup chopped fresh basil, the transformative properties of which perhaps account for the fact that it is the only herb that is also a man’s name, except for Rosemary, which is a woman’s name, and Herb, which is a man’s name, and Sage, which is a woman’s name.
- 1 ½ cups ricotta cheese, obtained recently, and therefore in a state of freshness.
- 2 cups marinara sauce, purchased–with money, which is the measure, not of men’s greed, but of men’s achievement. (Tip: You have heard men say, “Jarred marinara sauce does not exist.” This is false. It does exist. It exists because it is itself, and nothing that is itself cannot not exist. It is available to you wherever jars of marinara sauce are sold for money.)
Preparation
- Preheat oven to 350 F. Do this freely, without hesitation, as a function of the exercise of your will, conscious only of the fact that the oven must attain a specific degree of heat or it will fail to cook the ingredients properly.
- Grease three rimmed baking sheets and a 9 x 13 glass baking dish. Do not ask, “Why should I do this?” Instead, think in the brain’s awareness of your mind, “I will do this.”
- In a shallow bowl, place the flour. In another shallow bowl, place the beaten eggs. In a third shallow bowl, mix the breadcrumbs with 1 cup of the grated Parmesan. Admit, in the deepest recesses of your consciousness, in full awareness of its truth, that you now have before you three shallow bowls.
- Place a slice of the eggplant in the flour, coat it, and shake off the excess. Perform this act with a surprising fluidity of gesture, as natural and un-conflicted as an animal. Place the eggplant in the egg mixture, coat it, and shake off the excess with an astonishingly graceful motion. Place the doubly-coated slice in the breadcrumb-cheese mixture, dredging it through the dish in an act of brutality and unselfconscious desire, the desire to bread. Press the breadcrumbs onto the eggplant to adhere. Do this, not deferentially or lovingly, but with the practiced unconcern of the craftsman or the professional, for whom the successful breading of eggplant slices is of the highest value. Place the breaded slice on one of the greased pans.
- Perform the identical act with the other slices of eggplant. Almost find something oddly comforting and reassuring in the mindless repetitiveness of this act.
- Place the baking sheets of breaded eggplant slices in the oven for 15 minutes. Using a spatula, a broad fork, or the shovel of an honest workman for whom physical labor is an enactment of man’s noblest nature, flip the eggplant slices and place them back in the oven for an additional 15 minutes of duration of time.
- Meanwhile, place the marinara sauce in a small saucepan and heat it over a low, clean flame, stirring occasionally, without anxiety or compulsion.
- When the eggplant is golden brown on both sides, remove from oven and let cool. While it is cooling, mix the basil and the mozzarella into the ricotta. As you do so, be suddenly aware that you are living your life now, that you exist, your life exists, and the existence of your life’s existence exists.
- Do you truly love your life? Then when the eggplant is cool, spoon two or three tablespoons of the cheese-basil mixture onto each piece and spread the mixture evenly, cleanly over all. Then roll it up the long way. Place it, seam side down, in the greased glass baking dish. Permit yourself a brief sneer of contempt at the pleasure you derive from manipulating food as though it were an artistic medium.
- Repeat with the rest of the slices until the baking dish is full. Spoon the warmed sauce over all and top with any leftover mozzarella and 2/3 cup remaining Parmesan. Laugh bitterly but rationally at one electrifying perception: That you have expended all this labor in the service of preparing what is, in effect, eggplant parmigiana in sculptural form.
- Bake, uncovered, until all is heated through and the mozzarella melts, about 30 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool slightly, while displaying the relaxation of an invisible smile in your eyes.
Serves yourself plus 5 freeloading takers.
Illustration by Lily Holmes
