Roasted Eggplant Spaghetti with Miso Brown Butter Sauce

February approaches and with it the strange American ritual of Valentine's Day, which I have always found performatively romantic in a way that makes my Japanese side uncomfortable and my anxious side overwhelmed. Brian will want to go to dinner. I will want to stay home. We will compromise, which means we will go to dinner and I will wish I were home, and this dynamic will continue until one of us changes or one of us stops trying to change the other.

I made amazake this week — the sweet fermented rice drink that Fumiko makes in winter. It is thick and creamy and naturally sweet, made from rice koji and water, fermented overnight until the starches convert to sugar. It tastes like rice pudding in liquid form and it is the Japanese answer to hot chocolate — warm, comforting, ancient in a way that hot chocolate is not. I drank it on the couch while Miya napped and the rain fell and I felt held, the way food can hold you when people cannot.

I have a thousand blog readers now. One thousand people who come back regularly to read what I write about food and life and the space between cultures. I celebrated by sitting alone in the kitchen and eating onigiri, which is the most on-brand celebration I could imagine. One thousand readers. One bowl of rice. One woman at a kitchen table, still surprised that anyone is listening.

Miya is ten months old and she is walking — really walking, not the two-step stumble of a few weeks ago but actual locomotion, several steps in a row, arms out for balance, face set in concentration. She walks to me. She walks to the cat. She walks to the refrigerator and bangs on it with her palm, which is her way of saying she is hungry, a communication method that is both elegant and caveman-like. I open the fridge and she points at things. She points at the miso. I take this as a sign.

I submitted the essay — the one about miso soup and motherhood — to a literary magazine. I do not expect to hear back. I expect rejection, because expecting rejection is my default setting and has been since I was fourteen years old in a school cafeteria having my first panic attack. But I submitted it. I pressed send. The words are out in the world, in someone's inbox, being judged by someone who does not know me and will decide if my truth is worth publishing. The vulnerability is enormous. The necessity is bigger.

When Miya pressed her palm against the refrigerator door and then pointed, definitively, at the miso, I took it as both a food request and a small instruction from the universe. Miso has been everywhere in my life lately — in the essay I finally sent out into the world, in the soup that has anchored me since childhood — so it felt right to cook with it that evening, to let it do what it does best: turn something simple into something that tastes like it has been waiting for you. This pasta was what happened when I listened to my daughter and trusted my own instincts at the same time.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 large eggplant (about 1 lb), cut into 3/4-inch cubes
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
12 oz spaghetti
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons white (shiro) miso paste
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 cup pasta cooking water, reserved
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup fresh parsley or shiso leaves, roughly chopped
Grated Parmesan or toasted sesame seeds, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Roast the eggplant. Preheat your oven to 425°F. Toss the eggplant cubes with 2 tablespoons olive oil, salt, and pepper on a rimmed baking sheet. Spread in a single layer and roast for 25–30 minutes, flipping once halfway, until deep golden and tender.
Cook the pasta. While the eggplant roasts, bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook spaghetti according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, scoop out 1/2 cup of pasta water and set aside. Drain the pasta.
Make the miso brown butter. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Continue cooking, swirling the pan occasionally, until the butter turns a deep golden amber and smells nutty, about 4–5 minutes. Remove from heat briefly and whisk in the miso paste until completely smooth.
Build the sauce. Return the skillet to medium-low heat. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and the sliced garlic; cook 1–2 minutes until softened and fragrant. Add the red pepper flakes and stir. Pour in the reserved pasta water and lemon juice, whisking to combine with the miso butter.
Combine. Add the drained spaghetti and roasted eggplant to the skillet. Toss everything together over medium heat for 1–2 minutes, until the pasta is well coated and the sauce clings. Add a splash more pasta water if needed to loosen.
Serve. Divide among bowls and top with fresh parsley or shiso, and Parmesan or toasted sesame seeds if using. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted Eggplant Spaghetti with Miso Brown Butter Sauce — When Miya Points at the Miso