Grab each eggplant with tongs and hold it right over the gas flame, turning it slowly and without rushing — 8 to 10 minutes, letting the skin go fully black and the whole thing slump and collapse. You want to hear it hiss, smell the sweetness underneath the smoke. If you're working without a flame, split them lengthwise and press them cut-side down onto a screaming-hot cast-iron pan until they blister and go dark, 6 to 8 minutes. Don't pull them early — the char is not the problem, it is the point.

Let them sit just long enough that you can hold them, then scrape the soft interior out with a spoon into a bowl. Leave every scrap of blackened skin behind. What you want is that warm, silky, smoke-filled flesh — a little dark at the edges is fine, even good, it only goes deeper.

Mash it with a fork, rough and loose — this is not a purée, it should have some body and character. Mince the garlic as fine as your patience allows and work it in while the eggplant is still warm, so it softens into everything. Then fold in the yogurt gently, season with salt, and taste. You're looking for something creamy but alive, not heavy.

Spoon it into a wide shallow bowl, the kind people can reach across each other to scoop from. Dust a pinch of red pepper across the top, pour olive oil over with a generous hand, and lay fresh parsley over everything. Taste once more for salt. Serve it at room temperature with good bread and, if the evening is going the right direction, a glass of raki alongside.