Oven-Roasted Ratatouille

Happy New Year! At least here in the U. S. Yes, it's almost Rosh Hashanah. But today is the new year!

January 1st isn't, right? I mean, it's crammed at the end of the holidays, the last gasp of utter exhaustion. It's not really at any change of seasons. You don't really do anything different from 12/31 to 1/2.

But the day after Labor Day in the States? It's truly the new year. The kids go back to school--or are already there. Everyone bears down a bit more at work. Everyone's even at the office at the same time! The days are starting to turn shorter. Time itself just feels different.

I've always felt we in the U. S. should celebrate this day as the new year. It's time to start new projects, new ideas. It's time to get more serious about our reading. It's red wine, not white.

Best of all, you can have a new year and not even think about any darn resolutions. Except more real food, of course.

I love this recipe that Bruce made up for THE ULTIMATE COOK BOOK, our 500-recipe tome. Mostly because (yes, I admit it) I've never liked ratatouille. I don't know about you, but for me it's always too soft and squishy. I'm not much into soft food. Unless it's pudding. Then back up!

But by roasting the ingredients for the ratatouille, Bruce has turned it into more toothsome fare. Imagine: both roasted veggies AND ratatouille. Sold yet?

Shoot, I had it in omelets for a couple of days at lunch. And I also put it on stale bread, shaved Parmesan cheese on top, and broiled it for bruschetta.

So let's get to it. You'll end up with about 8 healthy side servings.

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Perfect Meatballs

I've got a confession. A pretty rank one. Pull up a chair, get a cup of coffee.

First, a picture.

A skillet full of browning, herb-laced meatballs. Pretty good, eh? OK, so now the truth. Ready? I don't like ground meat.

OK, don't leave me. I did my best to prepare you. There's more. I could probably go the rest of my life and not eat another hamburger. (See, it gets worse.)

Growing up, we called it "loose meat." As in "loose meat sandwiches." (AKA, Sloppy Joes.) Call me crazy, but I don't like loose meat rolling around my plate. It's unbecoming. Plus, you have to go through about a thousand sessions of expensive therapy for every time your mother ever asked you as a teenager, "Mark, are you willing to try some loose meat tonight?"

That said, Bruce has changed me over the years. (Darn you, marriage.) I've actually gotten to the point where I like meatloaf. And--get this--crave meatballs. Beg for them, in fact. I'm still not over the burger thing, but I'm working on it. Nonetheless, when we were writing COOKING KNOW-HOW, the chapter on meatballs was hands-down my favorite. I loved the whole technique, the way you could make this crazy, global range, from Turkish kofta to buttery Danish frikadeller, from down-home Italian meatballs to Romanian chiftele (made with mashed potatoes and lots of garlic).

So I begged for meatballs the other night. And here's what I got:

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Panzanella

Can you believe it's almost Labor Day? The summer has flown by. Where we live, some trees at the back of our property near the brook are already tipping red on the upper branches. The light is more precious--and clearer, too, as if in compensation as the sun sets behind the valley a little earlier than it was doing about a month ago.

Bruce and I celebrated the last bits of summer yesterday with a hearty plate of panzanella, an Italian bread salad made with lots of veggies, particularly sun-ripe tomatoes. Without any ado, because it's the best gift for the end of the season, here it is, ready for your holiday weekend:

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Melanzane Pizza

People always ask us if we have a big vegetable garden. Mostly, we have a CSA. Our travel schedule this summer doesn't allow us to plant a big garden. Flowers aplenty, sure--but we do have a few things in pots on the deck. Tomatoes, mostly. And chiles. Or at least we thought we did.

Earlier in the season, we shot a series of videos for weightwatchers.com, technique videos that will soon be up on the site. One of our editors brought her dear parents to the shoot at our house, an older Italian couple. Frankly, I wanted to blow off the shoot and spend time with them. Italians are some of the world's best foodies! We had lunch out on the deck and they were checking out our pots. "Melanzane!" her mother exclaimed. We were very patient. "No, no, peppers. Chiles." But she was insistent. We showed her the little tag from the farm where we got the plants. "Peppers," we kept saying.

They were eggplants. She knew. We should have listened. Italians, after all. So we've now got eggplants growing on the deck. Not such a bad thing. And certainly worthy of a good pizza.

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BLT Pizza

Bruce calls ham "the most Christian of all meats." Funny, but when I was growing up in the South, I could have sworn it was bacon.

Maybe ham was too much of a given, like loud-mouthed preachers at a state fair. But bacon? Now that was real religion. Along with donuts. Which we buttered. Yep, slathered it on, one bite at a time.

But I digress. Bruce and I have been doing quite a few pizza demos from our grilled pizza book this summer--and the BLT is always a hit, no matter its religious orientation. Here's the drill:

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All-Vegetable, No-Noodle Lasagna

We're closing in on writing our 19th cookbook (that's counting the two for the fussy celebrities) and there are a two things I've learned over the years: 1) some people like exact recipes and 2) some people don't.

I'm a recipe-follower. Probably the debt of a stern Protestant upbringing. I follow the rules, make it as it stands. If I make it again, I might alter the recipe. Maybe (after a glass of wine). Mostly, I do it by the books. Give it to me in grams and I'm happier.

Bruce never met a recipe he couldn't disregard. He rarely follows one. Even his own. Right now, we're cider-curing a bone-in, big-butt ham for a cookout this weekend, using the recipe from our up-coming book on ham (AN OBSESSION WITH THE HINDQUARTER), and yesterday I had to walk him carefully through the procedure to make sure he observed his jots and tittles.

Even when we're done recipe-testing for a book, Bruce will read through the manuscript and say, "Oh, you know, we could make that with thus-and-so."

"Did you?" I'll ask, a little exasperated.

"No, but you could."

So this post is for him--to celebrate one of his on-the-go, never-the-same-way-twice summer veggie casseroles. It's like a lasagna, tomatoey and cheesy, but without any noodles. And the recipe's going to be inexact. Very.

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