By Tanya Sichynsky, The New York Times At a birthday dinner recently, a pool of satiny, smoky eggplant pried my attention from an otherwise lively conversation. The dish was unassuming, dolloped with a bit of yogurt and a smattering of scallions and herbs. But my eyes ballooned cartoonishly with each bite, this slump of olive-oil-drenched, simply seasoned pulp a redheaded bombshell to my Tex Avery wolf. It was none other than Gabrielle Hamilton’s smoky eggplant.