Charles Caleb Colton, English writer, cleric and collector (1780-1832) is little known to most people today. But his aphorism – “Imitation is the sincerest (form) of flattery” – is familiar in some form to most everyone.  And, how true it is.  I cannot count how many times have I have been to restaurants or in people’s homes where I have had something delectable to eat at the table.  My first reaction is, “I want to make this!”  From my friends, I often extract recipes, but from restaurants I am at a loss.  Countless times I have written to Bon Appétit or Gourmet Magazine and asked for a recipe to no avail.  So I am left to my own devices to figure out just how the chefs have made these dishes,  and I do my best to recreate – ergo imitate – their artistry.  While sometimes I come close, I have – on occasion – succeeded to the point where I am not only happy with the results but feel I have surpassed the fine chef!  (Okay, this is a rare moment…)

Once upon a time, about 20 years ago, I was visiting San Francisco with my then future ex.  We were having a great time – tastings at wineries in Napa, Sonoma and Carneros valleys, museum crawls, visits with family and friends – and we were doing all this on a shoestring.  We saved our money for one fantastic meal out.  We conducted our research using newspaper articles, magazines and guides (pre-Internet, of course) and came down to an Italian restaurant in the Marina district called Pane e Vino, … Bread and Wine.  We were not disappointed!

And it was truly one of those moments where I had a dish that made my taste buds soar. It was a simple first course called timbale di malanzane e salmone and it was served with a spicy tomato sauce. I obsessed about this dish for years, making any number of versions until I finally came up with one I liked.  The eggplant must be grilled just right, and not cut too thick.  The salmon needed to be lighter – a mousse, perhaps?  And the sauce had to have just the right piquancy to set off the deep, rich flavors of the other ingredients.

Assuming that was 1990 (which I think it was…), I  will flash forward now to 2007, a mere 17 years later.  Mark and I had recently moved to Tucson – our mid-life epiphany (no crisis) – and I was out to dinner with two of my favorite arts supporters, Marsha and Gary.  We went to a little Italian restaurant they wanted to introduce me to, one that others had recommended highly, as well – Tavolino.  I am always game for authentic Italian and they assured me that this was the ticket.

After ordering a nice Barolo, we opened our menus and started to peruse.  As I started down the list of  antipasti, my heart skipped a beat.  Really?  Timballo di melanzane e salmone??  I had remembered it as a timbale not timballo… could this be the same?  I immediately called over our server and asked, if by chance, the chef/owner (Massimo Tenino) had ever worked in a restaurant called Pane e Vino in San Francisco.  She said that she knew he came form California, but she would ask.  As in many small trattorie, we were not far form the kitchen and I suddenly hear an exclamatory burst of laughter.  Out came Massimo to our table asking, “Which one of you recognized my dish?”  He had, indeed, been a chef in the kitchen when I visited San Francisco, moving to Tucson several years later to raise his children.  He also opened his own restaurant which, just month ago, moved to within a 5-minute walk from our home.  I should add that this is probably our favorite restaurant in Tucson.

That visit to San Francisco was 20 years ago, and my ex and I are still friends, although separated by thousands of miles.  I have been making this timbale for Mark for the 15 years we have been together and today is the first time I have written down the recipe.  After 20 years, the version I have created is a bit different from Massimo’s – no better, just different.  And, served with a simple salad, it is a great light supper.  I sincerely hope that Massimo is, per C.C. Colton, sincerely flattered at my imitation.

– David

1 egg

2 tablespoons butter

Remove the timbales from the oven after their full 30 minutes and let them sit 1 minute.  Place 2-3 tablespoons sauce on each plate.  Invert the timbales onto a separate plate, one by one, and then carefully place it on the puddle of sauce.  Garnish with additional basil, if desired.