I love ratatouille. I had a Marseillaise pop ’round last time I made this lovely dish. I showed her the Ripailles recipe that included some lemon. “Citron? Mais NON! Jamais!”. Then she told me all the secrets of a standard French dish of which I will share as the blog rolls.

“Duck again?” the kids whine. Oh if they only knew how lucky they are. Yes, it’s duck again. We learned this little “finger” number at a restaurant in Toulouse after our Carte Vital was renewed. Slice the duck breast in fingers with a little salt-and-pepper’s-here action then do your fry routine. The slices give it a nice, even cook with some juicy redness in the middle without being too red.

For whatever reason or child or chicken or cow, I have forgotten to finger and had to cut fingers mid-fry. This worked like a charm and you can feel an obscure recipe developing ( now why do I slice the duck breast into fingers after I’ve started frying it? I’ll tell you why, because whomever wrote that recipe had kids and cows and chickens and farm and they forgot to slice the damn breast. )

But 6:30 is approaching. In a very non-European way, dinner is served before 8pm. As such, we need to let the ratatouille rest overnight and serve up a new squash dish.