At my house, we like to make up a big skillet of ratatouille every August, when the tomatoes are ripe and the eggplant and zucchini are rife. Onions, garlic (lots of garlic) and a few capers round it out. Julia Child has an excellent recipe. It's a pain to make, but sure tastes divine. I serve it cold, and my mom, who probably never cooked eggplant in her life, wasn't too keen. It's a taste of Provence, not Normandy.
Who knew the movie Ratatouille would has Proustian references? Sounds like this movie is for adults. Can't wait to see it, and I know just the child I'll drag along.
I am finally on the train with the narrator to Balbec. Right now he's acting like a homesick wimp. It was funny how he went to the bar car and downed a few (for health's sake) to the shock and horror of his grandmother. Maybe he's not such a wimp. O.K., a wuss. I never hear the old fashioned term "panty-waist" anymore. As a child it intrigued me.
Can't wait to actually arrive at Balbec. La di dah!