A full-on dish of Parmigiana is not for wimps or the faint-hearted - neither the cooking nor the eating of it, if you make it the pukka way (not meaning to sound like Jamie Oliver). Yes, I wimped out and ended up frying each 5mm disc of aubergine. Or rather, Mr. Signs did, not wanting the smallest risk of undercooked aubergine, and on discovering that the grilled version was taking just as long and looked grey. So there was olive oil, buffalo mozzarella and parmesan cheese plus a tomato sauce with more oil A side of steamed broccoli and focaccia bread (oil in that too). And me with my high cholesterol. If I drop dead in the next five minutes then at least I will have had a fabulous lunch with the people I love most.
Talking about cheese (you can't skimp on a Parmigiana), son and I got talking about music, in particular modern Disney songs like this:
which son very much loves and reckons is equal to, say one of Elgar's overtures but which, though I have always been partial to cheese and openly loved Abba before it became ok to admit that, he reckoned I would not like, and he is right, though I am prepared to have another look and reconsider in the light of what he said about its opulence. My preferred kind of cheese is Fievel's song in American Tail - which is less about opulence than schmalz. But I always did like a bit of that. And Heimat is in there somewhere, I reckon.