Roasted Rockfish with Herbes de Provence on Ratatouille

"You've never made me ratatouille."

A statement, not a question, from my wife, a request really, disguised.

Ann hinted that I should make ratatouille, a dish that I have never made throughout a lifetime in the kitchen. "I don't really like it," I responded. Like is the wrong verb, because I do not dislike it. I just would never care to make it for myself. Ever.

There's a bit of backstory here. We grew up without a lot of money, one small income, three ravenous kids. We were not poor, but going out to eat was never an option. Our cars seemed to be third-hand. Luxury foods were not in the cards and during the summer, we ate largely off our garden, my dad being an inveterate gardener.

Those of you who garden, you're probably already beyond the punch line. You know.

Our garden was a good quarter of an acre if not a half, at least three times the size of our current lot here in Oregon. And my dad was an exuberant planter. If three squash plants would feed our family, why not plant a 100-foot row? Ditto for tomatoes. Why not have 50 plants? Peppers. How about four dozen plants of seven or eight varieties?

We kids were free labor to work this massive garden and I foremost, being the oldest and strongest. Our Saturdays were given over to picking vegetables in the morning and prepping and preserving them in the afternoon.

We ate well because of this all year. One wall of our farmhouse basement was reserved for shelves of jars from canning: tomatoes, tomato juice, ketchup, relishes of all sorts, all manner of pickles, peaches, green beans, yellow wax beans, beets, and so forth. Bins of potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, and apples lined another wall. Our freezer was jam packed with gallon bags of corn, peas, lima beans, and black-eyed peas, the vegetables that did not can well. I learned to put up from day one.

But back to late summer. Those of you who garden know well late July and August when after a trickle of vegetables during the early summer, the garden gods kick things into hyperdrive and bestow an unceasing bounty of tomatoes, peppers, squash, and eggplants. Ready or not, here they come!

My mother's answer, clearly in self-defense from this onslaught, was ratatouille. Ratatouille three to four nights a week. The first couple of times were OK, but by night three, I was ready to vomit at the mere smell of the stuff. Ratatouille for weeks was what we ate with little variety.

Ann, now you know why I have never ever made ratatouille since.

Roasted Rockfish with Herbes de Provence on Ratatouille

I relented of course. How can I not make something for my wife when she asks? How could I disappoint her? One of the things I always disliked about my mother's version of ratatouille is that it would be stewed nearly to death. I wanted to freshen it up a bit and serve a simple piece of roasted fish with it.

Herbes de Provence

It's hard to make a typical Provençale dish without their classic herbs, the soi-disant "herbes de Provence." Everybody's mix is varied. Mine is what I gathered from the garden: rosemary, thyme, oregano, lavender, and basil. These I destemmed and chopped fine.

I do have a quasi-love affair with these herbs and fond memories as well. I remember in great detail driving with Aimé Guibert, the owner of the famed Mas de Daumas Gassac in Aniane, from his home at the winery to dinner in nearby Montpellier. Excitedly and quickly once we climbed to a ridgeline just after dark, he pulled the vehicle to the side of the road and urged a swift exit. "Sentez!" he urged with typical Gallic passion, eager to show off the bounty of his native land. Smell, he insisted.

The warm breezes wafted up the hillside bringing along the fabulous aromas of the garrigue, the scrubland that is common to the Mediterranean coast, be it in Greece, Italy, Provence, or in the Hérault as we were. I could smell the wild rosemary and lavender, but above all the low-growing wild thyme. I could not resist rubbing my fingers through that thyme and then inhaling the amazing aromas.

I have been hooked ever since and thyme is undoubtedly my favorite essential woody herb.

Roasting Roll-Cut Zucchini, Squash, and Eggplant

To create a fresh and lively version of ratatouille, I wanted a base of roasted vegetables. This intentional caramelization and concentration of the vegetables was no doubt a reaction to the overly stewed quality of my mother's version with its mushy, disintegrated vegetables.

Although ratatouille is a peasant dish at heart, many chefs prefer that each of the vegetables be cooked separately and then mixed. This cuisine soignée approach flies in the face of the cuisine pauvre origin of the dish in which all the vegetables would be stewed together. But I like it.

I took a modern approach by roasting the zucchini, squash, and eggplant together after tossing them in the herbs and salt. I roll-cut these long vegetables in the Chinese style so that they would all be in similar-sized pieces and roast at the same time. Once the vegetables were roasted, I sautéed a chopped onion with a bunch of garlic, then added the roasted vegetables, roasted and sliced piquillo peppers, and halved grape tomatoes.

My Ratatouille

I warmed the vegetables through after mixing them, but only just. I did not want the tomatoes to break down at all. I wanted them to retain their freshness and sweet acidity to brighten the dish.

While I was finishing up the vegetables, the herb-covered rockfish, a local species of white fish, was in the oven roasting. Just as it set in the center, I pulled it out and plated it over the ratatouille.

I quite enjoyed it, my first ever foray into making ratatouille. It only took a half a century to get over my instinctual dislike of the dish.