Fire-Scorched Eggplant Carpaccio: A Smoky Tel Aviv Memory
Growing up in Tel Aviv, the smell of charred eggplant burning directly on the open gas flame was the scent of Friday afternoons. My mother would stand by the stove, tongs in hand, letting the skins blister until they completely collapsed. That memory is the absolute soul of this Fire-Scorched Eggplant Carpaccio. I created this dish when I first moved to London, craving that deep, unapologetic smokiness from home but wanting to elevate it into a stunning, shareable centerpiece. What makes this recipe so incredibly special to me is the ridiculous contrast in textures and temperatures on one beautiful plate. You have the soft, smoky eggplant acting as a luscious canvas for a fierce, sizzling blistered tomato and rose harissa dressing. Then, the cool, velvety walnut-tahini tarator swoops in to balance the heat, finished with a massive shower of fresh mint, cilantro, and ruby pomegranate seeds—because more herbs is always the answer! Do not be afraid to take the eggplant to the absolute brink under extreme heat; that heavy char is exactly where the magic lives. If you cannot find rose harissa, simply use standard harissa and a tiny pinch of cinnamon. Grab some warm pita, drag it right through the center, and let us eat.
Featured Recipe
Fire-Scorched Eggplant Carpaccio with Blistered Tomato-Harissa & Walnut Tarator
A dramatic, smoky masterpiece that demands to be shared. We take whole eggplants to the absolute brink under extreme heat until they collapse, then smash them flat into a luscious canvas. Drenched in a fierce, sizzling blistered tomato and rose harissa dressing, cooled by velvet walnut-tahini tarator, and showered with fresh herbs and ruby pomegranate—this is how you start a Mediterranean feast.
Save a copy to your collection for editing
Timeline
Ingredients
- 2 whole large globe eggplants(Look for firm, shiny eggplants with smooth skin)
- 2 whole plum tomatoes(Halved lengthwise)
- 5 cloves garlic(4 left unpeeled for charring, 1 peeled for the tarator)
- 3 tbsp rose harissa(Adjust depending on the heat level of your brand)
- 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil(Plus a little extra for rubbing the eggplants)
- 1/2 cup walnuts(Toasted)
- 1/4 cup raw tahini(Good quality, stirred well)
- 1/4 cup lemon juice(Freshly squeezed (about 2 lemons), divided use)
- 1/4 cup ice water(Crucial for fluffy tarator)
- 1/3 cup pomegranate arils
- 1 tbsp pomegranate molasses(Thick and syrupy)
- 1/4 cup pine nuts(Toasted until golden)
- 1 large handful fresh cilantro(Roughly chopped, tender stems included)
- 1 large handful fresh mint(Leaves torn)
- 1/2 tsp kosher salt(For the tarator)
- 1 tsp flaky sea salt(For finishing, divided use)
- 5 cloves of garlic(1 clove used in step 3, 4 cloves used in step 4)
- 4 tbsp lemon juice(2 tbsp used in step 3, 2 tbsp used in step 5)
- 1 tsp flaky sea salt(1/2 tsp used in step 5, 1/2 tsp used in step 7)
Instructions
- 1
Preheat your oven to 500°F (260°C) or set your broiler to high. Take 2 whole large globe eggplants and prick them all over with a fork—this prevents them from exploding in the intense heat. Rub lightly with a few drops of olive oil.
2 min
Tip: Don't skip the pricking. I learned this the hard way in my tiny London kitchen years ago.
- 2
Place the eggplants on a foil-lined baking sheet and blast them in the oven for 35 minutes. You want absolute destruction of the skin. Turn them every 10 minutes until they completely collapse in on themselves and feel as soft as a water balloon.
35 min
Tip: If your broiler is very strong, keep an eye on them so the paper-thin skin doesn't catch fire, but embrace the black char.
- 3
While the eggplant is scorching, make the Walnut Tarator. In a food processor, pulse 1/2 cup walnuts until finely ground. Add 1/4 cup raw tahini, 1 peeled clove garlic, 2 tbsp lemon juice, and 1/2 tsp kosher salt. With the machine running, slowly drizzle in 1/4 cup ice water until the mixture transforms into a pale, velvet cloud.
5 min
Tip: Ice water is the secret to emulsifying tahini into a bright, fluffy sauce instead of a heavy paste.
- 4
Heat a heavy cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat with absolutely no oil. Place 2 halved plum tomatoes cut-side down, alongside 4 unpeeled cloves garlic. Let them dry-char for about 8-10 minutes until deeply blackened and blistered. Remove from heat.
10 min
Tip: Let the pan get smoking hot before dropping the tomatoes in. We want blistered edges, not mushy stewed tomatoes.
- 5
Roughly chop the blackened tomatoes and squeeze the roasted garlic out of their skins. In a bowl, mash them together with 3 tbsp rose harissa, 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil, the remaining 2 tbsp lemon juice, and 1/2 tsp flaky sea salt. This is your fierce, fiery dressing.
5 min
Tip: The residual heat from the tomatoes will bloom the spices in the harissa beautifully.
- 6
Once the eggplants are done, let them cool just enough to handle. Gently peel away the charred skin, leaving the stems attached for drama if possible. Lay the naked eggplants on a large, beautiful serving platter. Using a fork, smash them completely flat, spreading the silken flesh across the plate like a carpaccio.
5 min
Tip: Smashing it flat ensures every single bite gets an equal distribution of the toppings.
- 7
Time to paint the canvas. Drizzle the warm eggplant with 1 tbsp pomegranate molasses. Swoosh the walnut tarator through the center. Vigorously spoon the blistered tomato-harissa dressing all over the edges. Shower the whole plate with 1/3 cup pomegranate arils, 1/4 cup pine nuts, 1 large handful fresh cilantro, 1 large handful fresh mint, and the final 1/2 tsp flaky sea salt.
3 min
Tip: Serve immediately while the eggplant is still warm, with warm pita or tearing-bread on the side.
Chef's Notes
I always tell my cooks that there is a fundamental difference between roasting a vegetable and scorching it. With eggplant, you must be fearless. You have to push it right to the edge of ruin to uncover that smoky, melting, custard-like heart. Smashing it into a 'carpaccio' changes the whole eating experience—instead of dipping into a mound, you drag your bread through thin, elegant layers of smoke, acid, heat, and crunch. Do not skimp on the fresh herbs; they are the bridge between the rich tarator and the fiery harissa.
Yael Mizrahi
Bold flavors, beautiful plates
Born in Tel Aviv to a Moroccan mother and Iraqi father, I grew up speaking the language of spice. My kitchen was always full of cumin, preserved lemons, and the sound of multiple conversations happening at once. I moved to London at 22, cooked my way through the city's best restaurants, and discovered that the whole Mediterranean was my playground. Now I create dishes that celebrate the entire region—from Marrakech to Athens, with plenty of stops in between.