Rosemary Ratatouille, Roasted not Fried

            Roasted ratatouille requires less toil than frying each ingredient separately. 

I wrote this post in 2009 when the idea of cutting way back on gardening had not yet occurred to me.(It was updated in 2015 and again today.) Those were the days! Now I'm in the throes of weaning myself away from a prodigious garden. I'll miss this ratatouille. But I hear they sell eggplant at growers' markets?

Ratatouille is one of the best possible ways for turning a garden bonanza into flavorful freezable gold bricks to mine during the bleak winter. In August and September, we have so much garden glory that I have actually chased people down the road, waving zucchini and cucumbers. I leave produce in the mailbox for our rural mail carrier, and deliver cukes and zukes to the community center's "free food" area. Someone came to buy a vacuum I advertised on Craigs List, and she went home with tomatoes, cucumbers, and a spaghetti squash. Anyway. ratatouille is a wonderful way to use up a lot of summer produce all at once. 

About Rosemary Ratatouille

Rosemary isn't a huge ingredient in this recipe, but the fact that it's there to the exclusion of all other herbs is key. Ratatouille has been a favorite way to use summer bounty for years, but I usually included handfuls of fresh basil and sprigs of oregano and never even considered rosemary. I also fried each ingredient in separate batches to develop individual flavors, then combined to blend. Big pain in the arse!

But a recipe I discovered in 2009 at recipetips.com makes the BEST ratatouille ever. I would link to the recipe, but it no longer exists at that site, or at least I couldn't find it. This recipe is a lot less work than frying, and high temp roasting boosts the flavors. The four teaspoons of chopped fresh rosemary are key to the deliciousness of this heavenly dish.

This recipe requires 15-20 minutes of prep and 45 minutes to 65 or 70 minutes of roasting time, depending upon the pan size and the volume of vegetables. You'll need two large rimmed baking sheets or shallow roasting or broiling pans, and parchment paper to make clean-up easier.

Rosemary Ratatouille, Roasted 

Ingredients
2-3 large eggplants, 1-11/2 pounds
2 sweet red peppers
2 yellow peppers
3 small/medium zucchini
2 medium/large onions (not sweet onions)
4-6 cloves garlic
6-8 tablespoons olive oil, or more
4 teaspoons chopped fresh rosemary
6-8 large tomatoes, more if small
kosher, sea, or smoked salt to taste (smoked salt is divine!)

Directions
Preheat oven to 400
Cut eggplant, peppers, squash, and onion into roughly 1 inch chunks. Peel garlic and slice lengthwise 3 or 4 times. Combine and toss with 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and the chopped rosemary. Salt lightly. Oil a rimmed baking sheet or other large shallow pan and spread the vegetables into a single layer and place in preheated oven. If you have too many for a single layer, don't sweat it. After they've roasted for 20-25 minutes you should be able to spread them out.

Line the second rimmed pan with parchment paper making sure that the paper is larger than the pan. You don't want the juices to get underneath the paper. Cut tomatoes into halves or quarters depending on size and arrange them in a single layer. Drizzle with olive oil and salt lightly. Put in preheated oven.

Roast vegetables, turning with a spatula once or twice.

Tomatoes don't need to be turned, and they roast faster than the other veggies. When roasted, they should be soft enough so they go flat when pressed lightly. The juices may brown, and that's good. If you put tomatoes and the other veggies into the oven at the same time, the tomatoes will be ready as  much as a half hour before earlier than the veggie mixture.

This is an extra-large load  for a double recipe and required about 90 minutes of roasting at 400.  

Remove veggies when roasted. You'll know they're roasted when they're beginning to brown and are soft.

These tomatoes could have  roasted another 5-10 minutes. This batch made a good puddle of juice, which when mixed with the brown bits, was added to the other veggies.

Let the tomatoes cool. Turn each tomato half or quarter over and pinch the skin; it will come right off.  Place the pan with the roasted veggies next to the tomatoes. Carefully lift the parchment paper and pool juices and tomatoes in the center, then slide it all into the  roasted veggies to mix. Alternatively, you could use a spatula to transfer the tomatoes then pour the juices. Mix thoroughly. May be served hot, warm or room temperature.

Ratatouille freezes beautifully and is a wonderful reminder of benevolent summer during winter's churlish days.

Other ways to use the harvest

Rich, thick homemade marinara sauce

Eggplant Parmesan with Low-Carb notes

Ratatouille with Sizzle

I trotted out to the garden late in the afternoon to pick a few veggies for dinner. Well, it turned out to be way more than "a few veggies." Did I forget it's August? The month of way too much produce for the ordinary person in her ordinary life? Stay away from the garden for a couple days and gremlins sneak in to inject plants with steroids. It's crazy! But wonderful.

Whew! The garden surprised me after a couple days away with about 20 times more than we can eat.
I'll give away most of those great English cucumbers (they're appreciated by residents at the assisted living place where my mom lives). I'll put on my apron and figure out the rest. 

Anybody up for eggplant? We planted just one variety this year, and it all ripened at the same time. How inconvenient!  The eggplants are at their peak—purple/black and glossy. They must be used soon. The fruits are too small, mostly, for eggplant Parmesan, which is my favorite. It's a good year for eggplant volume, but not so much for size. So it'll be ratatouille that makes its way into the freezer to remind us in the dead of winter that we had a glorious August harvest. Why is it so difficult to remember when it's cold. grey and wet that we had these bright warm days (even tho smoky) just a few months back?

Usually I make roasted ratatouille in big batches and freeze it. Today I didn't mean to harvest all this stuff, but since I had so much, and it was so perfectly fresh and beautiful, I decided to revert to my earlier approach to ratatouille—frying—and make enough for one dinner for two. Let me tell you, it hardly made a dent in the volume of just-picked produce. I'll rally tomorrow or the next day to do the big ratatouille roasting operation. (Roasted ratatouille recipe coming soon.)

In the meantime, I remember how much work it is to do fried as opposed to roasted. With small amounts, however, it isn't that big of a deal. I added a couple new elements: jalapeno peppers and smoked salt. I gotta say, yummers! Here's how to make fried ratatouille with a peppery twist.

Ratatouille with Sizzle

Ingredients (for 2 or 3 people)

• 2 small to medium zucchini, yellow, green, or striped
• 1 medium eggplant
• 1 small onion
• 2 cloves garlic
• 3 jalapeno peppers (optional)
• 1 sweet red pepper
• 2 cups roughly chopped fresh tomatoes 
• smoked salt to taste (I used Trader Joe's South African Seasoning Blend)
• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary (important!)
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
• 2-6 tablespoons olive oil (huge disparity, I know. Stick with me.)
• salt and pepper to taste

Directions

Make life easier and use two non-stick fry pans. Cut the zukes into about one-inch sized pieces. The eggplant may be sliced into slightly larger uniform-sized pieces. Dice the onion and mince the garlic. Mince the jalapeno and slice the sweet pepper into uniform chunks. Get it all ready before starting.

Stir fry the zukes in 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat. At the same time, stir fry the eggplant in a separate pan. Eggplant tends to eat oil, so I start with 2 tablespoons and when the pan gets dry and the eggplant threatens to burn, I add a little water. It boils away and the eggplant is just fine. Combine the eggplant and zukes and set aside.

The eggplant and zukes are in the smaller pan. The onions, peppers and garlic are in the larger pan, where all ingredients will converge in the end. 

In the larger pan, saute the garlic and onion for a few minutes in 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add the peppers and stir fry for a couple more minutes. Dump the zukes and eggplant into the onion/pepper/garlic/rosemary mix and turn off the heat. Rosemary is a big deal for this recipe. Nothing else will do the trick.

Zukes, eggplant, onion, garlic, peppers stir fried and combined. 

Put the cut-up tomatoes into the now-vacant frying pan. Cook over medium-high heat until the tomatoes are soft and the moisture is steaming away. Add the chopped rosemary and a little table salt.

Tomatoes are beginning to sweat and reduce.

Cook until about half the tomato juice has evaporated and then add to the rest of the ingredients. Turn the heat to medium high. If you're using smoked salt, add it now and be careful—it can overpower, especially the African blend that includes other spices.  Add the chopped basil at the last minute.

The finished ratatouille took about 35-40 minutes to prepare, not counting the time required to grow and harvest the ingredients. It is served with simple cucumber onion salad, Trader Joe's hot Italian sausage, grilled, and the ubiquitous (at our house) chipotle and creamy garlic dill sauces. 

The garden also provides food for the soul. I didn't get any bird pictures, but from my harvesting position I admired swarming swooping chattering avians plus other garden beauties.

Bird-planted sunflowers with lots of bees. 

Lovely cosmos, which self seeds all over the place.

Yellow zinnias with a fig "tree" behind.

Fifteen-feet tall sunflowers. I'm not kidding. 

Impressive weightlifting, if I do say so myself. 

Tomatoes are finally here! But, like youth, will fade fast.

A beautiful sight to behold. Our FIRST ripe tomato—a brandywine! We've been staring at it for days. And finally, last night, we devoured it in a Caprese salad.  Two more came off the vines today and now it begins. Tomato season!

Every mid-August I think this: Youth and beauty are fleeting. So pathetically brief. The garden demonstrates this in fast-forward. (By contrast, humans take much longer to decline, although it seems just a season or two since I was young and pulsing with hormonal power and developing into a sturdy adult who would require decades to fully fade. I am making steady progress, by the way—an unavoidable fate, which I regard without humor but with interest.)

A month ago, the garden was in its glory with nary a hint of decline. Every day it got bigger, better, more robust. No more. In the short term, it's good because the peppers, eggplants, onions and even the tomatoes have initiated their death dance by pumping sugar into the fruits of the their vines, branches, and bulbs. But alas, fall approaches in stealth form, hiding in August's heat and haze. Yellow leaves are present. Hollow green beans. Hideous numbers of squash bugs. Brittle things.

 

This sunflower tells the tale. Its leaves have been ravaged by finches  and birds are starting to peck at the seeds. In a couple weeks, the yellow fuzz will be gone, the seeds exposed, and bird havoc will ensue full force. But, of course, we cultivate flowers for the birds and the bees and our enjoyment. So what do we expect? 

Here too is evidence of decline. The leek flowers are turning into seed heads, their lovely lavender is gone. I'm going to have to replace my blog cover photo.

However! As the most robust growth subsides, the serious high-summer harvest begins. Last night's dinner:
The first Caprese salad, simple cuke and onion salad, roasted ratatouille, a fantastic  potato/cabbage casserole, and corn on the cob.  

PK ate corn for dessert!

The first ratatouille of 2012. OMG, as the texters say. This is roasted, not fried, and here's a recipe from  a  couple summers ago. Roasting is way easier and superior in taste to laborious sauteing. 

We finally have enough corn to put some away. This is destined for the freezer.

Part of the potato harvest. It's been 100 degrees or so here for a few days with more oppressive heat forecasted These spuds need to get into "cold storage", which means our pump house. But it isn't really that cold in there right now.
By the way, if you have landed on this site because of my previous low-carb posts and preaching, please forgive my lapses. PK insists on growing potatoes and corn, and it is difficult to resist this garden candy. I do have ways to abate potatoes' blood-sugar spiking effect, mostly by using with lots of low-carb veggies. But mostly by eating small quantities. Small potatoes, as the saying goes. Happy harvest!

New take on marinara, time-saving tips and gardening ambivalence - UPDATED 8/26/2021

The basics for a grand marinara sauce are right here: Sun Gold, Brandywine and San Marzano tomatoes, garlic, onions and basil. Even a few Romas.

I've been making homemade marinara sauce since we started gardening lo these 40 years ago. If that sounds like a lot of years to you, believe me, it sounds even more unbelievable to me. The years fly by and blah blah blah.

So maybe I've learned a few things? Well. Maybe. If so, among the tidbits is a new revelation; when making marinara fresh from the garden, use the sweetest, ripest, and most tasty tomatoes no matter the variety. Duh!

Usually, those are not Roma types, which have been the mainstay of ALL previous marinara/tomato seasons. Every single batch! This year, it dawned on me, after searching around for new ideas for marinara, to simply use the tomatoes with the best flavor. WHAT A CONCEPT!

Our generous garden obliged with luscious Sun Gold cherry tomatoes, succulent Brandywines, and the marvelous San Marzanos. The San Marzano is a cherished Italian tomato grown in a specific soil type in a small area. We have three wild San Marzano plants, snaking their indeterminate tendrils in all directions.

Thick, rich, almost creamy marinara made mostly with San Marzano tomatoes. If you don't grow San Marzanos, as we didn't for most of our gardening years, they're also sold in cans and are reportedly excellent for making sauces.

San Marzanos define tomato goodness. They're super sweet when ripe, and meaty, meaning that they don't have a lot of seeds. They're not bomb-proof like Romas, but they have a deeper flavor. 

I was able to make one batch primarily with San Marzanos from the garden. But other batches made with mixed varieties have also been good. My stainless steel fry pan holds five quarts of whirred-up tomatoes and estimated quantities of other ingredients are based on starting out with five quarts of liquefied tomatoes.

A typical harvest. Most above are Roma types with a few San Marzanos
in the white box, and small Brandywines peeking out from below.

Guidelines for making fresh-from-the-garden marinara and time-saving tips*

If you're hunting for a recipe with precise measurements, this is not for you. If you're an adventurous cook eager to make it work with what you have, stick around. The idea is to use tomatoes in season and freeze the resulting sauce to produce wow-worthy dishes during the dark days of tasteless expensive supermarket tomatoes. (Isn't it odd that mealy tasteless tomatoes can be found in supermarkets even during tomato season?) 

I HAVE DISCOVERED THAT SOME OF THE MORE EXPENSIVE COMMERCIAL MARINARA PRODUCTS ARE ALMOST AS GOOD AS HOMEMADE.  SUCH AS FROM SONOMA WITH ❤️

* Do NOT peel the tomatoes!

Well, you can, but I NEVER do when making marinara, and no one has noticed. Peeling is time-consuming and unnecessary.

I've had enough of dipping tomatoes into boiling water and "slipping off the skins, ha ha" to last a lifetime. Done with that!

In perusing recipes online I noticed that peeling skins from tomatoes, or not, is a point of contention with purists. Let them contend! Maybe they don't have food processors or good blenders, maybe they have all the time in the world, maybe they like peeling tomatoes. But if you don't have the time or inclination, but have a kitchen device to do the trick, use it!

For years the Cuisinart food processor was my marinara friend, but recently I bought a Vitamix blender, which does an even better job of pulverizing lumps, seeds, and skins. Plus it can handle a greater volume, making for even less work.

What you'll need, more or less

• Enough dead-ripe tomatoes, preferably heritage, sweet cherry tomatoes, and/or San Marzanos, but also Romas, Celebrities, Big Boys, and other varieties, enough to make around five liquid quarts. The tomatoes must be ripe ripe ripe. About 15 pounds of fresh tomatoes.
• One large or two medium onions, preferably not sweet, chopped
• Six to eight large garlic cloves, or more, chopped
• Salt to taste
• Generous handful of fresh basil to add late 
• Dried blend of Italian herbs (not herbs that have been languishing in your cupboard for 10 years, but recently purchased or dried by you. The fresher the better.)
• Olive oil to saute onions, garlic, and herbs, but not the fresh basil
• 4-oz can of organic tomato paste if you choose to reduce cooking time

Onion, garlic, Italian herbs. Saute before

 adding blended tomatoes.  

SKIP IT! THIS IS A WORTHLESS STEP

Seasoning your sauce

There's also a camp that goes super simple using canned tomatoes, preferably San Marzanos, maybe a bit of onion and/or garlic, and a sprig or two of fresh basil. The basil is added late to the party, and is dragged through the sauce to extract flavor.

Maybe they do this in Italy. Doesn't work for me. I'm good with fresh basil, without stems, added late, but just leave it in the sauce.

Depending upon what's in the larder or the garden, I may add, along with ingredients listed above:

• chopped sweet peppers 
• chopped hot peppers, just a kick for back flavor
• garlic chili or serrano sauce, a Tbsp or so
• crushed fennel seed (love this flavor in marinara) 
• a sprig of fresh rosemary (remove after cooking) 

Directions

First prepare the onions, garlic, and herbs, and lightly brown them in olive oil in the same pan you'll use to cook your sauce.* Browning, according to numerous sources, adds depth of flavor whether you're making soup, gravy, or sauces.  OK TO SKIP THE BROWNING 

Then rinse, core, and cut in half the tomatoes before whirring up in a food processor or blender, about 15 pounds in batches. You should have enough liquid tomatoes to fill a five-quart heavy metal pan, preferably a stainless steel skillet. A soup pot may be used instead, but it takes longer for evaporation to produce a rich thick sauce.

Simmer for 3-4 hours until the volume has been reduced to roughly half. A 4-ounce can of organic tomato paste hastens the process, in case you're planning marinara sauce for dinner. 

More - if you're interested in my mental state, plus links to earlier garden-fresh recipes 

If you've read earlier posts, you know I have a continuing struggle with gardening, trying to cut back so we're not tied down. Trying to get a grip on the reality of being retirees and getting older every minute, and not needing all this food and work—spending hours in the kitchen chopping, blending, and trimming to can, freeze or dry the tons of stuff that lands in the kitchen. No no no!

THIS SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE WHAT I WAS THINKING THIS MORNING. 

But then there are the other parts. The tender parts. The pleasure, during the drab winter days, or even spring, while tomatoes are still a dream, of grabbing a bag of frozen tomato deliciousness and turning it into an easy feast. STILL TRUE.

The spring asparagus feasts. The blueberries all winter. The onions and garlic hanging in the PUMPHOUSE IN THE GARAGE.  

And also the garden immersion experience, which occasionally transports me into the sweet world of birdsong, bees, and butterflies. The wild randomness of volunteer sunflowers, cosmos, clover, spearmint, and dill make a fragrant disorder that somehow creates order in my life. Even the work - the tomato harvesting, the weeding, the flower deadheading - is a methodical Zen practice where my hands and body do the work but my attention is elsewhere. Floating.  

I AM STILL TALKING MYSELF INTO IT!

I can lose myself writing (once I'm at the computer and get started) but also in gardening chores, which need to be done. How can I give this up? How can I not? 

There is a time, turn, turn, turn, you know the Pete Seeger song made famous by the Byrds?  One of my favorites.

To everything - turn, turn, turn There is a season - turn, turn, turn. And a time to every purpose under heaven.A time to be born, a time to die. A time to plant, a time to reap. A time to kill, a time to heal. A time to laugh, a time to weep.

Now. Which way to turn, turn, turn?

I loved being in the messy volunteer garden recently, with the wildfire smoke rendering breathing unpleasant but whose eerie light heightened colors. The garden is a reliable rest and release valve, a place of comfort at being alive. Why do I sometimes resent it?

SIGH. PK AND I ARE STILL TALKING TO OURSELVES AND EACH OTHER ABOUT SERIOUSLY CURTAILING GARDENING.  NOT GIVING IT UP ENTIRELY, BUT NEXT YEAR RATHER THAN 13 TOMATO PLANTS WE'LL HAVE 3 OR 4. ZUCCHINI - 1, WE ARE, I BELIEVE, MOVING CLOSER TO THE REALITY OF TURN, TURN, TURN. A TIME TO PLANT A TIME TO REAP. OR NOT.

Earlier posts about feasting from the garden

Our go-to salsa recipe - We keep returning to this one, cutting back on the black beans

Tomato Love Casserole - Too good!

Rich, thick homemade marinara sauce - this precedes the recipe above, but is still good, using Roma tomatoes.

Eggplant Parmesan with Low-Carb notes - I went through a serious low-carb period and posted lots of recipes. If you'd like to see some, type "low-carb" into the Search box on the upper lefthand corner of the page.  Warning: some of the older posts have lost their photos. No idea why. 

Ratatouille with Rosemary - Roasted, not fried. 

spaghetti squash lasagna is here - Our spaghetti squash crop failed this year, but half a squash is all that's needed for this and most recipes. I hear they have spaghetti squash down at the Farmer's Market.