On the way to soccer today my 7 year old son asked if we could make ratatouille. Can you imagine how thrilled I was to hear this? My immediate reply was "YES! Absolutely! Let's make ratatouille!" "Wait", he said. (If mom is this excited about ratatouille, it must be a) gross or b) good for me) "What is ratatouille?", he asked.
Ratatouille is French comfort food at it's best. A dish originating from Provence, Ratatouille has many variations but is consistently a gardners dream meal, combining delicious summer crops, eggplant, zucchini, red sweet peppers, onions, garlic, and tomatoes. Chop and cook in olive oil with salt and pepper. Ratatouille can be served hot or cold, on pasta, with an omelette, or eaten straight out of the pan.
I have two favorite food memories involving ratatouille. In the early 90's I used to meet a friend for lunch at this great cafe in Westchester, CA. I can't remember the name of the place for the life of me and it closed long ago. Without fail, I would order the ratatouille omelette. I don't remember if the ratatouille tasted exceptional but the combination of conversation with my friend and the deliciousness of the ratatouille provided me comfort and imprinted on my stomach, heart and brain.
My other ratatouille memory is from Paris, 2008. I was the last to sign on to a group of 5 women, family and friends, to go to Paris in May to celebrate my mother-in-laws' 75th birthday. Due to a series of unfortunate events, the 5 ladies rescheduled their trip for late June. With the kids schedules and added costs to change the trip, I couldn't make the change and decided to stick with the plan, and go to Paris - solo. I had just had back-to-back surgeries in November and January, to remove my appendix and major surgery removing a cancerous tumor that chopped off 1/3 of my large intestine and reworked my plumbing. I was thankful to be alive and ready and in need of a vacation! I changed the accomodations to better suit single travel and went on my trip. [Let's just insert here that I have the greatest husband ever for allowing and loving me to leave him for 10 days with the 4 kids]. I had many memorable and fabulous meals in Paris and surrounding areas, but one of my favorites was in a small cafe near the Musee D'Orsay that I stopped in to avoid the downpour of rain that appeared out of nowhere. My intention was not to eat but when I walked in, the air was filled with the smell of simmering tomatoes, garlic and deliciousness. On the board, the plat du jour was simply, ratatouille. I sat and stayed awhile. Enjoying the ratatouille, the freshness of the vegetables, the ambience of the cafe, and the company of four women from Toronto I met at a nearby table. Sharing this memory reminds me of the aroma that I can almost smell.
This is the first summer in many that I haven't grown eggplant. I simply forgot about it and the simple comfort and pleasure of ratatouille. Next year, for sure, I'll plant an eggplant plant or two. Until then, I'm running to the store to buy an eggplant and make ratatouille before my son changes his mind.
"Oh", said my son after I told him about ratatouille. "That's funny, I don't remember eggplant in the movie."
