July 19, 2026
One of the pleasures of having a garden is watching the season unfold. In June, the squash blossoms open and the bumblebees arrive, dusted with pollen as they move from flower to flower. By July, the young fruits and blossoms cover the plant. In midsummer, the garden is producing zucchini faster than we can eat them.
That’s when I make a sweep through the beds and gather whatever is at its peak. The haul is usually some combination of zucchini, eggplant, peppers and tomatoes, plus any basil I can find — exactly what I need for a batch of grilled ratatouille.
Ratatouille is one of Provence’s most famous dishes. Like most traditional recipes, there are countless variations, but the cast of characters rarely changes.
When Phil and I spent our honeymoon there, we sampled quite a few versions. Some were chunky, with the vegetables cooked until just tender. Others were cut fine and simmered low and slow for hours. They were wonderful, and what they all shared was the flavor of the traditional vegetable medley, the fragrance of Provençal thyme that seems to grow from every rocky hillside and stone wall, and the distinctive aroma of Marseilles basil, with its fleshy leaves and pronounced notes of anise.
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