A colleague of mine used to extinguish his cigarettes in his tea. His favourite Indian actor was Sunil Shetty, and he once wrote the first four pages of a proposed Mills and Boons romance between an Afghan girl and an American soldier. So while we took his editorials seriously, it was a little hard to digest his rants about food.

“I wish they’d invent a pill so we wouldn’t have to eat food,” he once said as he scooped up his daal fry with a huge, palm-sized cone of roti.

Or, before an editorial meeting over a cup of tea delicately flavoured with ash: “I hate purple vegetables.”

We assumed that the loathing was reserved for purple-coloured food as opposed to the colour itself because I caught him one day wearing a plum-coloured kurta.

Given his two-pack-a-day habit, however, he might have reconsidered his dislike.

Purple vegetables fight cancer. Yes, they put on their little lavender boxing gloves and punch those parasitic cancer cells in the face. And they pack a mean nutritional punch too.

The pigments that give the fruits and vegetables their deep colour are called anthocyanins, a type of phytonutrient.

Phytonutrients incidentally are “are naturally occurring components of plants that may have a role in human health. Some phytochemicals, such as vitamin C and E, folate, and beta-carotene, are universally recognized as playing an important role in the maintenance of health.”

Orange vegetables such as carrots contain stocks of beta-carotene. Many of the bright colours, flavours and aromas in fruits and vegetables come from phytonutrients.

But beyond the nutrition, let’s admit it, purple vegetables are just simply pretty. Throw in some finely sliced purple cabbage in coleslaw with shredded carrots and you get both looks and brains. And they have become the new black of couture food. Exotic kinds of ordinary vegetables can be grown such as carrots, bell peppers, chili and cauliflowers and beans.

While we won’t be finding the Plum Purple radish in our neighbourhood markets, purple cabbage, onions and eggplants are fairly common. And it didn’t take celebrity chefs or scientists to tell me that of all the purple vegetables, the eggplant reigns supreme.

The eggplant or aubergine is a thing of beauty - glossy, smooth, a deep royal purple; I imagine the vegetable as a dowager duchess decked out in emeralds, her round shape encased in a plum gown of pure silk. Deep in her fleshy bosom, the duchess has a treasure-trove of nutritional goodies like fiber, manganese, copper, vitamins B1, B3 and B6, folate, magnesium and potassium. She contains antioxidants like a secret, ready to wreak havoc on microbes, cancer and viruses.

Cooking this whimsical creature requires respect: you can’t just chop her up and dump her in a pot of potatoes. The soft flesh of the eggplant clashes horribly with the more robust texture of the potato.

There are other desi recipes that do more justice to the eggplant. Baingan raita, for example, in which yogurt whipped with a few cloves of garlic, salt, cumin powder and red chili powder are topped with thinly sliced, fried eggplant and a ‘tarka’ of curry leaves, cumin seeds and onions. This goes perfectly with pea pulao; moreover, it is surprisingly refreshing and light.

The eggplant absorbs strong flavours well so another favourite recipe of mine is the rich and intricate Bagharay Baingan. It involves sesame seeds, coconuts, peanuts, tamarind and a variety of spices all cooked in several separate processes. Its appearance once ready, however, belies all the work that goes into making it. One of the advantages of Bagharay Baingan is that keeps beautifully in the fridge for weeks.

A far simpler recipe, but fresh and slightly tart, is one I got from an uncle of mine. He lives in Canada and is a brave, experimental cook. He makes a mean eggplant mash that goes well with chappatis, as a dip with nachos or chips, or a side dish with meat. It’s the Arab Baba Ghanoush crossed with the desi Baingan ka Bhurta. He likes to take the skin off, but I prefer keeping it on – for both texture and nutrition.

Take about a kilo of roughly diced eggplants and either steam or boil them until they are nice and soft. While the eggplant is steaming, crush three cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of anaardana or pomegranate seeds and another teaspoon of cumin seeds in a mortar and pestle. Once the eggplant is done, mash it up with three finely diced tomatoes and a small shredded onion. Fry up some olive oil, add the crushed garlic, cumin seeds and anaardana. Let the aroma rise after a few minutes and then add the aubergine mash. Cook for about twenty minutes, adding salt and black pepper to taste, to let the flavours and oil meld into the flesh of the vegetable. Once done, finish with chopped coriander.