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DRNaturegirl's avatar

This really made me smile! I Was a 1970’s veggie, much to my mother’s consternation. I had a cranks cookbook too! I’ve always loved ratatouille.The tinned version I tried at college and was disgusted. The version I made was from a beautifully produced French cookbook by an ex-model, I think, Nicole something. It had cream pages and brown cursive text. The recipes were simple - omelette fine herbes , ratatouille, salads - barely anything needing recipes at all. I no longer have it, sadly (charity-shopped in a move) but the recipe for ratatouille is the one I use. Everything individually cooked, fresh herbs and a fresh tomato sauce (I never make it in winter). This year I’m growing my own aubergines (in a polytunnel in the north of Scotland - wish me luck ) and I always have courgettes and tomatoes, so I will definitely be trying this version. Perhaps it will oust my 50 year old recipe! I’ll let you know!

Edited to say the book was Simple French Vegetarian Cooking by Bernadette and I’ve just found an image of it!

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Tracie Dudley Craig's avatar

My mother did not enjoy cooking, but had a small repertoire of dishes. She used to make ratatouille and I didn’t like it at all. She couldn’t bear onions or garlic, so it had neither, nor did she like olive oil so she used butter instead. She also peeled the aubergines and courgettes, which were cooked with some tomatoes and possibly a pinch of dried mixed herbs. She thought it was delicious.

Despite it really being a late summer dish, we eat ratatouille quite often. I made it yesterday… we bought the vegetables at the farmers’ market in Kew: stripy aubergines, pale green courgettes, red onions and a mixture of red and green peppers in lieu of the semi-ripe ones found in European markets. Garlic, olive oil, a pinch of crushed chilli, bay and branches of thyme aplenty. (I sometimes like a very little ground coriander seed too. Gives it a hint of vegetables cooked ‘a la Grecque’.)

It was lovely. I had it with a bit of crumbled feta, my husband had a small (but fabulous) Iberico shoulder chop and some Jersey Royals. Leftovers to be eaten cold tomorrow. Memories of my mother’s buttery mess are - thankfully - buried in the distant past.

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