Ratatouille

Provençal summer vegetable stew: Nice's great vegetable dish

Origin: Provence, France (Nice)

From the journey of Zucchini.

Ratatouille is the definitive summer vegetable dish of Provence, a slow-cooked stew of eggplant (aubergine), zucchini (courgette), tomatoes, onions, garlic, and bell peppers in olive oil, seasoned with thyme, basil, and bay. The name derives from the Occitan 'ratatolha' and the French verb 'touiller', to stir, to toss (and the dish was originally peasant food: a one-pot preparation cooked outdoors over wood fire with whatever was ripening in the garden in late July and August. The Niçoise origin is significant: Nice and its surrounding coast belonged to the Kingdom of Sardinia until 1860 and has always sat at the cultural intersection of French and Italian cuisines, sharing olive oil, basil, and an instinctive suspicion of butter with its Ligurian neighbours just across the border. Ratatouille belongs to a Mediterranean family of remarkably similar dishes that span the entire coastline and reflect a shared agricultural history. The Catalan escalivada roasts the same vegetables over embers; the Basque piperrada centres on peppers and tomatoes; the Italian ciambotta of the South stews the same quartet together; the Levantine turlu and the Turkish türlü braise the same combination in the same olive oil. What all these dishes share is the convergence of two distinct vegetable traditions: the ancient Old World eggplant-and-olive-oil tradition that arrived in southern Europe through Arab and Mediterranean trade routes centuries earlier, and the New World vegetables) tomato, bell pepper, and zucchini (that arrived after 1492 and transformed the palette of Mediterranean cooking in the 16th and 17th centuries. Without the New World vegetables, ratatouille does not exist in its current form. The elevation of ratatouille from peasant food to emblem of French gastronomy owes much to the rehabilitation of Provençal cooking in the 20th century, notably through the influence of Auguste Escoffier and later Richard Olney, whose writings on Provençal food in the 1970s made the cooking of the Midi fashionable in a way it had never been under the dominance of classical Parisian cuisine. The version made internationally famous by Michel Guérard and later adapted by Thomas Keller as his 'confit byaldi') precise concentric slices of each vegetable arranged over a tomato sauce base and slow-roasted (is visually magnificent but quite different in character from the traditional rustic stew. This recipe makes the honest, traditional version: vegetables cut into substantial chunks, cooked separately to preserve their individual character, then combined and simmered together so the flavours can unify. The eggplant is the most important vegetable in the dish) it provides body, absorbs olive oil, and gives ratatouille its depth and substance. It must be properly softened and not allowed to remain chalky or half-cooked.

Ingredients

Vegetables

  • 2 medium eggplants (about 500g total), cut into 2.5cm chunks
  • 2 zucchini (courgettes), cut into 2cm rounds or half-moons
  • 2 red or yellow bell peppers (or one of each), deseeded and cut into 2.5cm pieces
  • 3 medium ripe tomatoes, peeled and roughly chopped (or 400g tinned whole tomatoes, drained and broken up)

Aromatics

  • 2 medium onions, halved and thickly sliced
  • 4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

Oil

  • 6 tbsp olive oil, divided

Herbs

  • 1 bay leaf
  • 2 sprigs fresh thyme
  • 1 tsp dried herbes de Provence
  • 6 fresh basil leaves, torn, plus more to finish

Seasoning

  • 0.5 tsp sugar
  • 1 tsp fine salt, plus more to taste
  • 0.5 tsp black pepper

To Finish

  • 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, to finish

Method

  1. Salt the eggplant: place the cubed eggplant in a colander, sprinkle generously with salt, toss to coat, and leave for 20 minutes. This draws out moisture and slightly seasons the flesh. After 20 minutes, rinse briefly and pat thoroughly dry with kitchen paper. Dry eggplant browns rather than steams, and browning is what gives the dish depth.
  2. Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a wide, heavy pan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. When the oil shimmers, add the eggplant in a single layer (work in batches if needed) and cook without stirring for 3–4 minutes until the underside is golden-brown. Turn and cook the other sides for 2–3 minutes more until well coloured all over and beginning to soften. Remove to a plate.
  3. In the same pan, add 2 more tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add the zucchini and cook for 4–5 minutes, turning, until lightly golden. Remove to the plate with the eggplant.
  4. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil to the pan. Add the onions and a pinch of salt and cook over medium heat for 8 minutes until soft and beginning to turn golden. Add the garlic and cook 2 minutes more. Add the bell peppers and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until slightly softened.
  5. Add the tomatoes, sugar, bay leaf, thyme sprigs, herbes de Provence, salt, and black pepper to the pan with the onions and peppers. Stir well and cook over medium heat for 5 minutes until the tomatoes begin to break down.
  6. Return the eggplant and zucchini to the pan. Stir gently to combine everything. Add the torn basil. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until all the vegetables are fully tender and unified: the eggplant should be melting and silky, with no resistance at all.
  7. Remove the bay leaf and thyme sprigs. Taste carefully and adjust salt, pepper, and sugar. Remove from the heat and leave to rest for at least 10 minutes before serving. Drizzle the extra virgin olive oil over the top and scatter with fresh basil leaves.

Notes

Ratatouille keeps for up to 4 days in the refrigerator and the flavour improves considerably on day two. It can be served as a side dish alongside grilled lamb, chicken, or fish; as a sauce spooned over pasta or polenta; as a filling for omelettes; or as a starter spread on bruschetta. Cold ratatouille with good bread and a few olives is one of the finest summer lunches in the Provençal tradition. For a more refined presentation, each vegetable can be cooked completely separately and combined only at the end, preserving distinct textures: but the long-simmered unified version has a depth of flavour that the more precise method cannot match.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1975
Drag to explore journey
17 of 17 stops
1975 CE
8000 BCE160018801975
Zucchini

Zucchini

Cucurbita pepo var. cylindrica

VegetablesCucurbitaceae

🌍Origin

Mesoamerican Highlands, Oaxaca & Southern Mexico — c. 8000 BCE

🌱Domestication

The zucchini is, in the strictest sense, a New World plant given an Old World form, and its deep ancestry lies far from the kitchen gardens of Lombardy with which it is now identified. Its wild forebears belong to Cucurbita pepo, a squash first taken into cultivation in the highlands of Mesoamerica around 8000 BCE, amongst the earliest of all the domesticated plants of the Americas. Rind fragments and charred seeds recovered from the dry cave sites of the Oaxaca valley, notably Guilá Naquitz, place squash alongside the bottle gourd at the very beginning of American agriculture, a thousand years and more before maize was tamed. The earliest growers did not prize the plant for its watery flesh, which in the wild forms was thin and bitter, but for its seeds, which are rich in oil and protein and could be dried and stored against the lean season, and for the hard, durable rinds of the mature fruit, which served as bowls, scoops, and containers. Over the following millennia the cultivators of Mesoamerica selected this single, endlessly plastic species into a great range of forms, from sweet autumn pumpkins to acorn and crookneck squashes, and squash took its place as the third member of the Three Sisters, the milpa polyculture in which it was sown together with maize and beans. The arrangement was a masterpiece of agronomic logic: the maize stood tall as a living trellis, the beans climbed it and fixed nitrogen into the soil, and the broad, sprawling leaves of the squash shaded the ground between, suppressing weeds and holding the moisture in the earth. Yet the slender green vegetable we now call zucchini did not exist in the Americas at all. It was bred from C. pepo stock only after the plant crossed the Atlantic, the work of European, and above all Italian, gardeners who selected for a long, thin-skinned, mild-fleshed fruit eaten immature, before the seeds hardened and the rind toughened. So thoroughly was the squash naturalised in its new home that one of its parts was embraced almost at once: the golden blossom, the fiore di zucca, was prized long before the modern fruit was perfected, and within a generation of the squash reaching Italy the flowers were being stuffed with ricotta and anchovy, sheathed in a light batter, and fried in the kitchens of Rome and Naples, in a preparation that has scarcely altered to this day.

Global Voyage

The squash crossed the Atlantic with the first returning ships of the Columbian Exchange, reaching the Iberian Peninsula in the opening decades of the sixteenth century along with maize, beans, tomatoes, and chillies. In Spain its welcome was cool: the Cucurbita pepo squash was grown more as a curiosity, an ornament, or a fodder for livestock than as a dish for the table, and the Spanish, well supplied with their own gourds, were slow to take it into their cooking. The more receptive kitchens lay further east, in the lands of the Ottoman Empire and the eastern Mediterranean, where the summer squash was embraced with an enthusiasm that Iberia never showed. Ottoman cooks took kabak into the great repertoire of dolma and meze, hollowing and stuffing it with spiced rice and herbs, and the cooks of Ottoman Syria and the Levant developed the pale, slender, tender-walled variety they called kousa, the foundation of kousa mahshi, the stuffed marrow that became an emblem of Levantine home cooking. Across the Aegean, Greek cooks grated it into the fritters called kolokithokeftedes, and in the Maghreb it slipped into the tagine and the couscous pot. It was in Italy, however, that the squash was most thoroughly transformed, and it was the southern kitchens that moved first. Neapolitan cooks sliced and fried the elongated zucca lunga in olive oil and steeped it in vinegar and mint in the manner called alla scapece, a technique descended from the ancient Roman practice of preserving fried fish and vegetables in acid, whilst in Rome the blossoms were battered and fried in a tradition rooted in the Jewish quarter. From these southern beginnings the cultivation of the long summer squash travelled up the peninsula through Liguria and into the Po valley, where it met the patient, decades-long work of selection that would at last produce the vegetable we know. The modern zucchini was born not in the milpa of Mexico but in the kitchen gardens of Lombardy: the market gardeners of Milan bred, over many seasons, a consistently slender, dark-green, thin-skinned cultivar at its sweetest and most tender when cut young, and by approximately 1880 this variety was being listed in Milanese seed catalogues under the name zucchino, 'little gourd', the diminutive plural of which, zucchini, would conquer the English-speaking world. From Lombardy the new cultivar set out on its final voyages. Italian emigrants carried its seed across the Atlantic to the United States, to Brazil, and to Australia in the great migrations of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries, planting it in the market gardens of Brooklyn, the interior of São Paulo, and the truck farms of Victoria, and giving the English-speaking New World its word, zucchini. The same vegetable reached Britain by an entirely separate path, through French rather than Italian channels: French gardeners had named the long green squash courgette, the diminutive of courge, and it was under that French name that Elizabeth David introduced it to British readers after the Second World War. This double transmission, Italian to the Americas and French to Britain, is the reason a single plant from Oaxaca is eaten today under two different names on opposite shores of one ocean.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

Zucchini belongs above all to the great tradition of cucina povera, the resourceful poor kitchen of the Italian south and the eastern Mediterranean, where its very abundance was at once its virtue and its difficulty. A single healthy plant fruits prolifically through the whole of summer, setting far more than any household can eat before each tender green finger swells into a watery, club-sized marrow and loses its delicate flavour, and it is this relentless surplus that has driven cooks to such inventiveness with it. The vegetable is sliced and slow-fried with garlic and basil into a sauce for pasta, as in the Neapolitan pasta alla Nerano with its melting Provolone del Monaco; it is puréed into the silky basil-scented crema di zucchine of Lombardy; it is grated and bound with feta, dill, and mint into Greek fritters; it is stuffed in the Levantine and Ottoman manner; and, where all else fails, it is grated into the sweet, spiced quick bread with which American cooks dispose of the August glut. What is most remarkable about the zucchini's long journey is that it was genuinely reinvented in each place it arrived rather than merely translated, transformed every time according to the inner logic of the local kitchen: stuffed and simmered in the Levant, fried and soured in Naples, slow-stewed into ratatouille in Provence, battered into feather-light tempura in Japan, and tempered with cumin and mustard seed into a dry sabzi in the cities of northern India. Today it is grown on every inhabited continent and ranks amongst the most widely cultivated vegetables on earth, with great commercial production in China, India, Turkey, and throughout the Mediterranean basin, and it is prized in the modern kitchen for its lightness, its low calorie count, and its willingness to take on almost any flavour. Yet its cultural heartland remains where it was perfected, in the kitchen gardens of Lombardy and the trattorie of Rome, the place where a squash from the highlands of Oaxaca was given a diminutive Italian name and sent out to the rest of the world as though it had always been Italian.

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