By July. My birthday month. Twenty-five. A quarter century of being Korean, though only three years of knowing it. The miyeokguk is planned for Thursday — birthday soup, the third annual — and this year I'm making it for myself and for Sujin and Daniel, who are coming over for a birthday dinner. The first time I've celebrated my birthday with Korean friends, eating Korean food, in my Korean kitchen. The first twenty-two birthdays were American — Karen's lasagna, David's brownies. The twenty-third was the first miyeokguk, alone, weeping. The twenty-fourth was the second miyeokguk, still emotional. The twenty-fifth is miyeokguk plus friends plus japchae plus galbi plus cake (from a Korean bakery — a green tea cake, because I'm twenty-five and my birthday cake can be Korean now).
The birthday dinner was beautiful. Sujin brought her halmeoni's kkakdugi. Daniel brought makgeolli (homemade — I taught him my recipe, which means I'm now a teacher of Korean fermentation, a sentence I could not have imagined four years ago). I made everything else: miyeokguk, japchae, galbi, rice, three banchan, and the green tea cake. We ate on the floor (I bought a low Korean-style table for exactly this purpose, finally replacing the desk-as-dining-table arrangement), and we ate with metal chopsticks, and we spoke in a mix of Korean and English, and at midnight Daniel said, "한생일 축하해요, 스테파니" (Happy birthday, Stephanie), and the Korean birthday greeting in my Korean apartment from my Korean friend was the gift, was the everything, was the answer to a question I didn't know I was asking three years ago when I stood in a silent condo and wondered what was missing.
I told Sujin and Daniel about the GOA'L submission. Neither was surprised — they both knew I was heading there. Daniel said, "When I'm ready, I'll do it too." I said, "Take your time." He said, "I've had thirty-one years." Fair. We've all had a lifetime. The readiness comes when it comes.
I FaceTimed Karen and David on my birthday morning. Karen sang Happy Birthday — she always sings, slightly off-key, and the singing is the most Karen thing about birthdays, the refusal to be embarrassed by her own voice. David said, "Happy birthday, Steph. Twenty-five. Quarter century." David, marking milestones with numbers, the way engineers do. Quarter century. One hundred and four weeks of Korean cooking. Ninety-nine point seven percent Korean. David's brain organizes the world in metrics, and I love that about him, because my brain does too, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree even when the tree is a different species.
Saturday: Bellevue. Karen's birthday lasagna. My green tea cake (I brought the leftovers). Two birthday traditions, two cultures, one table. David ate both and said, "The green tea cake is growing on me," which from David means he's gone from polite tolerance to genuine appreciation in three bites. The growing. Everything is growing. The palate. The family. The identity. The life. All of it growing, year by year, dish by dish, birthday by birthday, and the growing is the gift.
Twenty-two birthdays meant Karen’s lasagna—and even now that my birthday table has grown to include miyeokguk and galbi and a green tea cake from a Korean bakery, the lasagna still shows up, still matters, still belongs. When I brought my green tea cake leftovers to Bellevue that Saturday and sat down across from Karen’s pan of lasagna, I understood something: neither dish was replacing the other. This eggplant lasagna is the version I’ve made my own—layered, a little slower, a little more intentional—the way I’ve learned to cook everything these past three years. Make it for a birthday dinner, or for any night that deserves a table worth sitting down at.
Eggplant Lasagna
Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 large eggplants, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
- 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt, divided
- 3 tbsp olive oil, divided
- 12 lasagna noodles
- 2 cups whole-milk ricotta cheese
- 2 large eggs
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
- 3 cups shredded low-moisture mozzarella, divided
- 3 1/2 cups marinara sauce
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tsp dried oregano
- 1 tsp dried basil
- 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- Fresh basil leaves, for serving
Instructions
- Salt the eggplant. Arrange eggplant slices on a paper towel-lined baking sheet and sprinkle both sides with 1 tsp kosher salt. Let sit 20 minutes to draw out moisture, then pat thoroughly dry with paper towels.
- Roast the eggplant. Preheat oven to 425°F. Brush both sides of eggplant slices with 2 tbsp olive oil and arrange in a single layer on two baking sheets. Roast for 20–22 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until golden and tender. Remove and reduce oven temperature to 375°F.
- Cook the noodles. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook lasagna noodles until just al dente, about 8 minutes. Drain, drizzle with the remaining 1 tbsp olive oil, and lay flat to prevent sticking.
- Make the ricotta filling. In a medium bowl, stir together ricotta, eggs, 1/4 cup Parmesan, 1/2 tsp salt, oregano, basil, and red pepper flakes (if using) until smooth and well combined.
- Build the layers. Spread 1/2 cup marinara sauce in the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish. Layer 3 noodles over the sauce, then one-third of the ricotta mixture, one-third of the roasted eggplant slices, 3/4 cup marinara, and 3/4 cup mozzarella. Repeat layers twice more, ending with remaining noodles, marinara, and mozzarella. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan evenly over the top.
- Bake covered. Cover tightly with foil and bake at 375°F for 30 minutes.
- Bake uncovered. Remove foil and bake an additional 15–18 minutes until the cheese is bubbling and golden in spots.
- Rest before serving. Let the lasagna rest for at least 10 minutes before slicing—this helps the layers hold together. Scatter fresh basil over the top before bringing it to the table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 720mg