Eggplant Ricotta Bake

Okay, listen: my strongest culinary conviction — besides the sacredness of browned butter and the unforgivable crime of limp salad greens — is that the Eggplant Ricotta Bake should come with its own marching band. It’s soulful, it’s forgiving, and it’ll make your overworked oven feel like a hug. Also: if you need breakfast inspiration the next morning because you always eat late, consider this delightful twin: Blueberry Cottage Cheese Breakfast Bake. You’re welcome.

The time I turned Thanksgiving into an eggplant soap opera

You think you know chaos? Picture me, 2018, lugging a foil-wrapped casserole into my sister’s garage because the oven was “reserved” (read: hijacked by a turkey the size of a small dog). I’d salted, roasted, layered, and then—because I am a culinary overachiever—forgot to bring the basil. The result: a perfectly fine bake that looked mournful and tasted like Monday morning regret. My mother, bless her, called it “rustic” and ate three helpings. (Okay wow, I’m already rambling — but that memory explains why I never skip the garnish.)

From personal chaos back to what matters — the recipe

ANYWAY, before I spiral into a flashback montage of Thanksgiving casseroles and tortilla disasters (RIP 2016), let’s talk about why this bake is actually easy, forgiving, and very online-food-blog-friendly without trying too hard. It’s like lasagna met a veggie and they eloped. Two-word summary: powerful comfort.

What you’ll need (and my mini rants about them)

• 2 medium eggplants
• 2 cups ricotta cheese
• 2 cups marinara sauce
• 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Fresh basil for garnish (optional)

Mini-rants/opinions: Use whole-milk ricotta unless you want a sad, chalky version — Trader Joe’s ricotta is my low-key hero for weeknight bakes; if you’re feeling bougie, fresh buffalo ricotta is heavenly but pricey. Marinara? Jarred from Aldi is fine, and I’ll defend it in a duel. Also, if you’re assembling this for a crowd, snag extra mozzarella (cheese is a good personality trait).

Also, quick shopping flex: if you’re prepping a brunch batch or just love muffin-adjacent things, don’t forget to glance at the muffin aisle — I once paired this leftover with Easy Mini Blueberry Muffins and life felt curated.

Cooking Unit Converter (because kitchen math makes people cry)

Handy little sentence: convert grams to cups and Fahrenheit to Celsius because your oven thinks it’s European.

Technique breakdown: the messy, tender truth about making this bake

I will not lie: eggplant can be dramatic. It’s like a diva — too much moisture, and it weeps into the dish; too little salt and it pouts. Here’s what I learned the hard way (in full, chaotic glory): salt slices, let them sweat, pat them dry, love them like you mean it. Layering is forgiving — overlapping slightly is fine; don’t agonize over perfect stripes. If your ricotta seems watery, drain it in a sieve for fifteen minutes (yes, waiting is part of the craft). The top should blister and brown in that specific golden way that makes neighbors suspicious.

Steps I actually follow (because someone made me write them down):

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C).
2. Slice the eggplants into 1/2 inch thick rounds. Sprinkle with salt and let them sit for 30 minutes to draw out moisture. Rinse and pat dry.
3. In a bowl, mix together ricotta cheese, egg, garlic powder, onion powder, dried oregano, salt, and pepper.
4. In a baking dish, spread a layer of marinara sauce, then add a layer of eggplant slices. Follow with a layer of the ricotta mixture, and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese. Repeat the layers, finishing with marinara and mozzarella on top.
5. Sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top and cover the dish with foil.
6. Bake for 30 minutes, then remove the foil and bake for an additional 15 minutes or until the cheese is bubbly and golden.
7. Let cool for a few minutes, garnish with fresh basil if desired, and serve.

Why this cooking life still matters to me (spoiler: it’s about people)

Cooking is my memory bank: the smell of garlic at dawn evokes a neighbor who taught me to peel onions without crying (she lied), and a dish like this brings strangers to the table like it’s a magnet. Food is identity — midwestern casseroles, west-coast avocado obsessions, Trader Joe’s impulse buys — all stitched together in the steam off a hot pan. Making this bake once felt like carrying forward a small, edible tradition.

A tiny, mortifying micro-anecdote (short & savage)

I once mistook powdered sugar for Parmesan. It was a dessert tragedy with dairy consequences. I cried, the dog judged me, the guests were very polite. Lesson: read the labels. Also, always have napkins.

Frequently Asked Questions (quick, chaotic answers)

Okay, I’ll stop monologuing now — but not before I say: make this, invite someone you love (or someone who owes you one), don’t skip the basil, and yes, savor the slightly crunchy edges because life rewards the brave. Finally, if you ever feel lost, remember that every burnt toast is just a future kitchen story. The end. (Maybe.)

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator:

One quick line: figure out how this fits into your day with a simple calorie estimator.