Oooooh! Do it again!

Oh, wait. That was Mufasa. And this is moussaka. Close enough.

My brother had come into possession of a ridiculously oversize globe eggplant just as he was due to take off for a long weekend in New York City. I offered to relieve him of his perishable burden, seeing as how Master has always been especially enthusiastic about my eggplant dishes. Me, I'm not crazy about this vegetable, undeniably handsome as it is. It would be fair to say that I am coming to terms with it. The memory of poorly prepared eggplant at its seediest, mushiest, and most bitter still haunts me. And while I've learned to tame these properties, and to appreciate the sweet, dense, velvety character of a properly cooked eggplant's flesh, I will always be wary of just how unpalatable it can be. Perhaps I'm also not just a little scarred by the sights and sounds of eggplants, roasting to make baba ghanoush, exploding in my mother's oven. That kind of thing can traumatize you.

The boon of a secondhand eggplant inspired me to try my hand at a moussaka. Master loves eggplant and adores a nice lasagna, so this Mediterranean favorite should be a home run. For the meat layer, I used ground bison, spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg for added sparkle, sauteed with garlic, onion, and a concassé of fresh tomatoes. I peeled and cut up 1/4 of the gargantuan eggplant and fried the slices in olive oil. But I balked at having to make a béchamel sauce with the lactose-free milk we had on hand. Reading up on regional variations of this popular dish presented an answer. In Greece, an egg custard forms the top layer. Master reacts unpredictably to anything that includes too many eggs. I reasoned that I could simulate a passable custard by beating a couple of eggs into a pint of thick Greek yogurt (a foodstuff I'm always trying to sneak into our meals). I wasn't sure it would work - I half expected the 0% fat yogurt to collapse into a curdled, runny mess.

It did not. On the contrary, the yogurt-and-egg mixture baked to a perfect mimicry of a traditional custard - solid, wobbly, and with a melt-in-the-mouth texture accentuated by the yogurt's natural tanginess and the bit of lemon zest and juice I'd blended in. The yogurt custard was as light as the cooked meat and eggplant were hearty, and it came together to make a very satisfying moussaka. Master didn't even complain about the yogurt.