Eggplant Guilt

I felt guilty each time I looked at the three eggplants sitting in a basket on my table. I bought them in a moment of exuberance, because they were beautiful, my husband reminded me. They were beginning to age and I didn't have a plan. Last night I sliced them in 1/4 inch rounds, salted them, and placed them in my large colander to drain in the sink. I went to bed. This morning I rinsed them and squeezed stacks of the eggplant rounds between my palms. Then I cubed the stacks, slicing them on my cutting board. I still had no idea where I was going. I placed the eggplant in my slow cooker and added a jar of leftover vegetable stock, a container of chopped black olives that were looking for a job, along with two large cans of crushed tomatoes. I added chopped fresh garlic, olive oil, two bay leaves, dried oregano, basil, Adobo and salt. I tasted it and liked where it was headed. I let it simmer while Lily and I took a long walk. When we got home the kitchen smelled fabulous. Bill and I ate bowls of this eggplant-guilt stew with grated Parmesan on top and toast on the side.