Country Mouse Monday: ratatouille

When I was a child, there were few dishes I loathed more than the dreaded ratatouille that would appear on the dinner table regularly.  It's a traditional and easy dish, but one which absolutely nauseated me as a child, choking down each bite of slimey eggplant and gooey tomatoes.  The texture was altogether off-putting, but not eating what was put in front of us was never an option.

This is not to say that the dish was not cooked to perfection and delicious.  My parents were skilled in the kitchen.  It was just too much for my child-palate, a form of culinary torture.

It was also one of those dishes that set us apart.  I cannot count the number of times I had to repeat the word ratatouille to non-French-speaking friends, neighbor kids, every time feeling the distance between their tables and ours, coolly wishing for Brady Bunch meals like tuna casserole and mac & cheese, the stuff of American dreams.

Of course, with the arrival of the cartoon by the same name, it's now possible to say ratatouille and not have to sound it out slowly, repeatedly, explain.

I've been working like a fiend lately.  I realized on Saturday, once again at desk at work, that it was my thirteenth day in a row at the office, trying to meet impossible deadlines that are nonetheless looming, despite their impossibility.  Every single day since Labor Day. 

Thirteen days in a row is too many.  

So even though it gave me nervous pause, I declared yesterday, Sunday, a day off, giving myself time to roam around the garden, just be here, catch up.

And make ratatouille myself for the first time ever.

The bounty in the garden surprised me.  I've been so focused on work that I haven't spent nearly enough time out there. The glorious basketful of food stunned me with its beauty.  As did the knowledge that all along, even though I was focused elsewhere, the sun and soil were working their magic, yielding tomatoes and eggplant and carrots and peppers and basil and cucumbers and, lordy be, even a cantaloupe.  And everywhere, bees.

I've so been missing the Being Here and the Making, so I set myself to prepping and chopping for ratatouille, a taste I now have, the perfect combination of hearty summer flavors, a delectable side dish or topping on pasta.  Working my way through page 265 of the Cook's Illustrated Cookbook, I salted and set aside the eggplant to drain for three hours.  I cored and dropped the tomatoes into boiling water, then set them in their ice bath, peeled and chopped them.  Later I roasted the eggplant and zucchini, before adding them to sauteed onions and garlic, pouring in the tomatoes, adding spice.

There's something so peaceful about gathering here what we've sown, then turning it all into something nourishing and delicious.

I really needed that.

Added bonus: the ratatouille was absolutely delicious.  I know this was in part because we grew almost all of it and because I had the fun of making it.  But it was even tastier for me as a dish reclaimed, something I was trained to but only now can love.

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