Vegetarian Ricotta & Eggplant Casserole

If casseroles could get standing ovations, this Vegetarian Ricotta & Eggplant Casserole would get one, then come back out for an encore, and then be invited to Thanksgiving by my eccentric neighbor who thinks cranberry sauce is optional. Also: if you think eggplant is boring, you are lying to yourself. (Also also: yes, I once bought eggplant at Trader Joe’s that looked like a unicorn and I still wept.) For proof that vegetables can be dramatic: read on, and then make this. For moral support, consult my little guide to a similarly comforting dish, the savory pineapple casserole I shouted about last summer.

How I literally set the gravy on fire and still learned to love eggplant

There was a year — 2018? 2019? (time is a blur; so is smoke damage) — when I decided to host Thanksgiving and make every dish from scratch. I got overconfident. I also got distracted by a text thread about someone’s politics (never again) and the turkey gravy had an existential crisis in the oven. Long story short: smoke detectors sang, my cat updated her will, and I learned that casseroles are the food equivalent of a safety blanket.

My family stood in the driveway eating store-bought rolls like warriors and I, covered in flour, swore off anything that required flambé. Which lasted approximately one month, until I discovered the redemptive power of ricotta layered into roasted eggplant. It does not scream like a turkey, it whispers, and whispers are calming. Also: the aunt who judged my gravy returned three times for this casserole. Miracles!

Pivoting back to the recipe because emotions are delicious

ANYWAY, before I spiral into five more flashbacks about family drama and that one neighbor who always brings rubbery green beans (no offense, Janet) — let’s talk about this recipe actually putting food on the table instead of chaos on a paper plate. If you want a heartier sibling for this that involves poultry and stuffing vibes (I won’t tell), check the cozy hearty chicken and stuffing casserole roundup I bookmarked. But here’s the point: this is vegetarian, forgiving, and makes your kitchen smell like you’re some kind of domestic god/goddess. Two words: savory triumph.

What you’ll need (and my small opinions about each item)

• 2 medium eggplants, sliced
• 2 cups ricotta cheese
• 2 cups marinara sauce
• 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Fresh basil for garnish

Mini-rants and shopping notes: Buy good ricotta if you want silky luxury (Trader Joe’s has a decent one that won’t bankrupt you). Marinara? Jarred is fine — I grab the slightly chunky kind at Aldi if I’m feeling thrifty. Parmesan: the wedge is a tiny effort that makes you look like you care. Also, eggplant sizes are mood-dependent; if yours is sad and large, cut thicker slices. Trust me.

Cooking Unit Converter:

If you’re wondering about metric swaps or oven temps for an ancient convection oven, this little tool helps translate my chaos into your kitchen reality.

How this actually comes together (my messy, beloved technique guide)

I’m not doing a strict step-by-step because that would be like giving parenting advice — everyone will ignore half and still survive. But here’s what I’ve learned the hard way (with theatrical sighs and seasoning):

• Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).
• Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat and add sliced eggplants. Cook until tender, about 5-7 minutes.
• In a baking dish, layer half of the marinara sauce, half of the eggplant, half of the ricotta cheese, and half of the mozzarella cheese.
• Sprinkle with garlic powder, Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper.
• Repeat layers with remaining ingredients.
• Top with grated Parmesan cheese.
• Cover with foil and bake for 25 minutes.
• Remove foil and bake an additional 15 minutes until cheese is bubbly and golden.
• Garnish with fresh basil before serving.

Here’s the part where I rant a little: don’t crowd the eggplant in the skillet or it’ll sweat into an emotional puddle. Brown them a bit; texture matters. Ricotta is your creamy anchor — dollop it like you mean it. Covering the casserole first saves you from a cheese apocalypse. Also, a 5-minute rest after baking? Game changer. (Yes, I learned the resting rule after roughly 47 impatient attempts.)

Why this matters to me (and why it might to you)

Cooking is where my memories live: burnt gravy, triumphantly not-burnt casseroles, and holiday tables where someone inevitably brings something experimental. It’s tradition made flexible. Food is identity, therapy, and an easy way to tell people you love them without using words. Or with words, if your family likes that. For me, this casserole tastes like reconciliation and quiet victory.

Tiny anecdote for the road

Last week I took a pan to a block party and someone asked if it was vegan. I said “vegetarian,” and watched them nod as if that were a personality trait. We survived the debate. The casserole did better.

Frequently Asked Questions:

Okay, I’ll stop stage-whispering now. Make this casserole, invite someone who will laugh at your stories, and then eat the leftovers in bed like a powerhouse. You’ve earned it. Also, if you want a conversion quickie while you cook, there’s a little calculator to soothe your metric anxieties below.

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator: quick help for planning portions

If you’re curious about portion sizes or how this fits into your day, pop your numbers into this handy calculator.