Whenever I say “Ratatouille”, I always want to say it twice and then the chorus Rock Me Amadeus starts to play in my head.
What? Is that just me? Probably.
So… Ratatouille. Yeah. I’m fairly sure “Ratatouille” is French for “what the hell am I going to do with all these summer vegetables?”
My mom has been making Ratatouille and raving to me about it during recent phone conversations. When she described what went into it, I realized that I had every single one of the ingredients in my overstocked-with-produce fridge. That’s what I call vegetable fate.
