What’s In A Name?

The ingredients for my Caribbean Ratatouille

Or to rephrase the question, when you’re making a “traditional” recipe, how far can you stray from the original and still call a dish by name?  Like most cooks, I set my own (often shifting) parameters.  And my parameters may waver more than yours because of my location and the unavailability of certain ingredients and equipment.  I’ve run across more than a few culinary pedants who will call you out at dawn for any slight variation from that which they consider to be correct.  But who decides what’s correct?  And I’m not talking about the classic mother sauces here, so don’t go all Escoffier on me.

If you put cream in your carbonara (I don’t), is it still carbonara?  I’d always thought not, but I’ve come to find that plenty of cooks in Italy do just that.  In fact, Italy is where I learned not to make sweeping pronouncements including the words “always” and ”never” when speaking about foods and recipes.  I promise you, wherever there’s a traditional dish in Italy, the folks in the next village over make it differently.  And the inhabitants of both villages would argue with their dying breath that their way is the only way.  Same with my homeland, the South, where there are as many ways to fry a chicken as there are cooks and kitchens.

Bones’ hot button is Greek salad.  Nothing sets him off more than lettuce in a Greek salad, so I make ours sans leaves.  But it does lead me to wonder: do they have even Greek salad in Greece?  And, if they do, what do they call it?  One day maybe I’ll get to Greece and find out for myself.  I wouldn’t mind doing that research.

All of this leads, in an admittedly roundabout way, to ratatouille.  I made ratatouille this weekend, planning to post the recipe (yeah, I know I already wrote about ratatouille, but this one’s even better).  Then I hesitated, not sure if what I made really was ratatouille.  It included no zucchini.  It did include christophene.  But really, I’d have to be crazy to use supermarket zucchini when there’s just-picked local squash from down the road in Paraquita Bay.  And I had a christophene that needed to be used, so in that went.

Thinking it over, probably for longer than any normal person would think about vegetable stew, I’ve decided that yes indeed, I did make ratatouille.  My Caribbean version included all the usual elements that come to mind when I think of the traditional Provençal dish - eggplant, squash, peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic and fresh herbs.  And I would argue that using the freshest vegetables available is more in keeping with the original spirit of the dish than making it with zucchini that must be tired after its 2000-mile trip to my kitchen.

So, purists be damned, I’m calling my dish Caribbean Ratatouille Redux.  It was fresh and vibrant, the best ratatouille I’ve ever made.  Anyway, I think too much argument about tradition and authenticity takes a lot of the joy out of cooking and eating.  I’m a cook, not an anthropologist.  I’m really just here for the food.

Caribbean Ratatouille on the far right

Caribbean Ratatouille Redux

I’ve given measurements for the amount of vegetables I happened to have on hand, but they’re really just a rough guideline.  Use the freshest vegetables you can get, don’t cook it down to mush, and you’ll be fine.  Ratatouille can be served warm, at room temperature, or cold, and it tastes even better the day after you make it.  I won’t be the first, nor will I be the last, to remind you that leftover ratatouille is fantastic tossed with pasta.  And a sandwich made with mature cheddar and ratatouille on whole grain toast is a wonderful lunch.

The Vegetables
1 pound of eggplant, trimmed and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 1/2 pounds of zucchini, trimmed and cut into 1-inch chunks (but I used the huge pale green local squash you see in the top photo and it was lovely)
2 red bell peppers (or green, yellow or orange – they’re all good)
1 large christophene, peeled, seeded and cut into 1-inch chunks (definitely not traditional)

The Tomato Sauce
1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
4 large cloves of garlic, peeled and minced
1 scotch bonnet pepper, seeded and minced (optional for the Caribbean version)
2 1/2 pounds of very ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded and roughly chopped
A sprig of fresh thyme

The Other Stuff
Plenty of good extra virgin olive oil
A handful of fresh herbs (I used basil and parsley)
Kosher salt

To cook the vegetables:  sauté each vegetable separately in a little olive oil in a large pan or pot over medium to medium-high heat.  You don’t want to fry the vegetables, nor do you want them to steam in their own liquid.  A little browning is okay, but not too much.  Cook each vegetable until they’re almost cooked through, somewhat soft, but with a little texture and bite left.  The only way to tell, really, is to taste them.  Season each vegetable with a sprinkle of kosher salt about a minute or two before they’re done.  As each one is done, remove it to a large bowl and start with the next vegetable.

When all the vegetables are cooked, use the same pan to make the tomato sauce.  Heat a little olive oil in the pan.  Add the onions and scotch bonnet pepper (if using) and cook until the onions are softened and translucent, about 10 minutes.  Add the garlic and cook for another minute, then add the tomatoes, thyme and a teaspoon or so of kosher salt.  Bring the sauce to a simmer, then reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 15 minutes.

Add the vegetables to the pan with the tomato sauce and simmer for 20 minutes.  Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the fresh herbs.  Serve warm, cold or at room temperature.  Difficult to say how many this will serve, but let’s just say that it made rather a lot of ratatouille.

Tagged as: caribbean vegetables, ratatouille, recipe