Masterclass
Ratatouille.
This Niçoise classic is a jewel-like mix of end-of-summer vegetables, writes Damien Pignolet. A gentle touch brings rich rewards.
Rat-a-tou-ee. It’s not that tricky to pronounce, and it’s even easier to eat. The term dates back to 18th-century France, when it referred to a meat stew. The dish we know today as ratatouille was not recorded until the 1930s. The word derives from the French verb touiller, meaning to stir or mix. Stirring is certainly part of the production of ratatouille, but it’s not really its defining characteristic. It should certainly never be stirred too emphatically – a good ratatouille retains the elegance and freshness of the vegetables that are its building blocks.
The dish originated in Nice, but is popular throughout Provence, where the ingredients grow in abundance. Recipes abound, but all call for eggplant, zucchini, peppers and tomatoes, laced with onions, garlic and basil, and enriched with a fine olive oil. I have come across a recipe that included mushrooms but I believe they would be lost among the other flavours.
Many recipes require each vegetable to be fried separately in olive oil, which could make for a heavy dish, given the quantity of oil required. Most old varieties of eggplant had a bitter taste, so it was common practice to salt the eggplant before cooking to draw out the bitter juices. Virtually all modern varieties have lost this quality and the only advantage of salting them before cooking is to lessen the amount of oil the eggplant absorbs when it’s fried. If this appeals to you, it certainly works. A trick I picked up years ago was to place the eggplant in a colander, salt it and leave it for three hours rather than the usual one. Dry it thoroughly before you fry it.
As an alternative to frying, simply toss the diced eggplant in a little oil in a plastic freezer bag and then spread it in a single layer under a very hot grill to brown it.
This technique is especially good for dishes requiring sliced eggplant. Some cooks also like to roast the eggplant with similar intent. As for the oil, I find a nice fruity olive oil with a peppery finish works best.
I prefer not to hear ratatouille referred to as a stew – it should be a jewel-like dish, with each vegetable retaining its integrity.
It’s perfect on its own, simply complemented with crunchy baguette. And serve it hot or at room temperature, so the flavours are fully expressed, but never cold. I also recommend making your ratatouille a day in advance to give the flavours a chance to marry.
Lamb forms a happy partnership with ratatouille, as do goat and quail, but eggs are one of my favourite accompaniments, especially soft-boiled, or mollet as they’re known in France, so the yolks anoint the
delicious vegetables. Barbecued lamb chump chops are particularly good with ratatouille, which brings to mind a dish I enjoyed in the 1970s in Arles at a restaurant called Le Vaccarès. They had marinated lamb rump chops in olive oil, herbes de Provence and garlic, then grilled them over a wood fire and served them with a regional specialty called La Bohémienne (principally eggplant and tomato coulis). Such was the memory of this dish that it made its way some 20 years later onto the opening menu of my Sydney restaurant Bistro Moncur.
Leftover ratatouille has many possibilities – use it to fill a baguette, which can be wrapped in a cloth to take on a picnic perhaps, or serve it as a simple sandwich. A small amount of ratatouille makes a fine filling for an omelette or a topping for scrambled eggs. Mixed with cream and eggs, it works beautifully as a tartlet filling (three eggs to 600ml combined ratatouille and cream), or for crêpes with some chopped pitted black olives and a little fresh goat’s cheese or coarsely grated parmesan added to the mix before baking until they’re hot.
But as a beautiful entrée, ratatouille with soft-boiled eggs is a treat.
I am reminded of a stylish friend whose children couldn’t pronounce ratatouille but delighted the family with their title of “rats’ tails” for this special Provençal dish. gently until it’s thickened slightly but tiny pieces of tomato are still evident (18-20 minutes).
2 Heat half the oil in a wide, shallow 4- or 5-litre casserole until hot but not smoking, add onion and stir to coat. Reduce the heat to medium and cook for 5 minutes without stirring, then sauté gently, stirring occasionally to prevent onions from catching, until the onion has released most of its juices (15-20 minutes). Cover and cook gently, stirring occasionally, until the onion looks like a shiny jam (15-20 minutes).
3 Cut eggplant into 1cm dice.
4 Heat remaining oil in a separate pan until hot but not smoking, add eggplant and fry, stirring, until lightly browned (6-8 minutes). Ensure the eggplant dice retain their firmness; it’s better to err on the side of less colour and a firmer texture. Cut the zucchini into 1cm dice and add it and the eggplant to the onion.
5 Trim tops and bottom tips off the capsicum and quarter capsicum lengthways, remove the membrane and seeds, then cut capsicum into 5mm strips and add to the other vegetables.
6 Add the tomato sauce and ground coriander and return to the boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Taste for seasoning, cover and cook until the vegetables are tender but retain some firmness (10-15 minutes).
7 Stir in half the basil and adjust the seasoning to taste.
8 Lower eggs into a large saucepan of boiling water, return to the boil, then boil for 6 minutes. Drain and refresh under cold running water to arrest cooking. Shell eggs under cold running water or dipping them in a bowl of cold water as you go; set aside in an egg carton lined with plastic wrap so they retain their shape while you peel the rest. Halve, season and serve on ratatouille with extra basil. (If the ratatouille has been in the fridge, bring it to room temperature before you serve it.)