onion and carrot that also cooked in there. Montero adds a mixture
of hot olive oil, garlic, and smoked paprika that sizzles as it hits
the liquid. As Montero puts a lid on the blender and prepares to
turn it on, Raij interjects, “Eder, use a towel to cover the opening
at the top. I don’t want that to explode.”
Montero smirks mischievously and turns the blender on
anyway. Raij recoils for a second and then, when she sees all is
okay, rolls her eyes. To many a couple, a scene like this rings
totally familiar.
But perhaps because running two restaurants requires so much
of them, Raij and Montero don’t have time to quibble. Raij gets
busy brining the eggplant for a dish that features a technique that
Montero, who grew up in Bilbao, Spain, learned while working at
a Japanese restaurant.
“When Eder worked at Nobu, in New York, he learned this
technique,” she says as she cuts slits into exposed eggplant flesh.
“We’ll do cooking demonstrations in Spain and everyone will be
blown away by this. And they’ll have no idea it’s Japanese.”
The enthusiasm and pride Raij shows about her husband’s
eggplant trick (a trick, as you’ll see in the recipe, that involves
coating the eggplant with cornstarch before frying it) reveals
something about how they’re able to work so well together:
they’re big fans of each other’s work.
And because they each bring different areas of expertise to the
table—Raij attended the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde
Park, New York; Montero attended La Escuela Superior de Cocina