I remember the first time I watched Ratatouille. I was maybe twelve or thirteen, sitting in our small apartment in Croix-Rousse, Lyon, with my little brother. At the time, I thought it was just another Disney film — fun, colorful, full of rats and talking food. But years later, as a student in Lyon studying art history (and always hungry), I watched it again one rainy afternoon with a friend, and I saw it differently.
There was something about that little rat Rémy, chopping vegetables with passion, that actually made sense. The film was funny, sure, but the message hit home: Anyone can cook. Even a rat. Even a broke university student who usually lives on pasta and cheap baguettes.
And so, like a true lyonnais, I decided to try cooking the dish. Ratatouille is a classic from the south — la Provence — and not originally from Lyon, but it’s celebrated all across France. I’d eaten the rustic version before, where everything’s tossed into one pot. But the one in the movie? Thinly sliced vegetables layered like an artwork — that’s confit byaldi, a more refined, modern version of traditional ratatouille, created by French chef Michel Guérard.
Here’s how I made it — and how you can, too. It’s humble, but when done with care, it tastes like summer in the south of France.
Ingredients (for 4 people)
For the piperade (the base sauce)
- 2 red bell peppers
- 1 yellow bell pepper
- 2 ripe tomatoes
- 1 medium onion, finely chopped
- 2 garlic cloves, minced
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 1 sprig thyme or ½ tsp dried thyme
- 1 bay leaf
For the vegetables (the layered topping)
- 1 small eggplant (aubergine)
- 1 zucchini (courgette)
- 1 yellow squash (if you find it; otherwise, use more zucchini)
- 2 Roma tomatoes (firm, for slicing)
- Salt, pepper
- Olive oil
For garnish (optional but très chic)
- Balsamic glaze
- Fresh basil leaves, chopped
- A drizzle of good olive oil
Step-by-Step Recipe
Step 1: Roast and Peel the Peppers
Preheat your oven to 220°C (about 425°F). Cut the bell peppers in half and remove the seeds. Place them skin-side up on a baking tray and roast them for about 20–25 minutes until the skin is blackened and blistered.
Remove from the oven and place them in a bowl covered with plastic wrap or a lid. Let them steam for 10 minutes — this makes the skins easy to remove. Peel and finely chop. Set aside.
Step 2: Make the Piperade
Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and garlic and cook gently for about 5–7 minutes until soft but not browned.
Add the peeled peppers and chopped tomatoes. Season with salt, pepper, thyme, and bay leaf. Simmer uncovered for 10–15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it becomes a thick, jammy sauce.
Remove the thyme sprig and bay leaf. Blend if you want a smooth base (I prefer it rustic). Spread it evenly on the bottom of a baking dish or oven-safe skillet.
Step 3: Slice the Vegetables
Using a mandoline or a very sharp knife, thinly slice the eggplant, zucchini, yellow squash, and Roma tomatoes into even, round slices — about 2–3 mm thick. Uniformity is important for even cooking and aesthetics.
Step 4: Assemble the Ratatouille
Arrange the sliced vegetables over the piperade in a spiral or overlapping pattern, alternating colors. Think: eggplant, zucchini, tomato, repeat.
Once done, drizzle the top with olive oil and season lightly with salt and pepper. Cover the dish with parchment paper cut to fit directly on top of the vegetables (not over the rim). This helps retain moisture and prevent browning.
Step 5: Bake
Bake at 150°C (300°F) for about 1 hour and 15 minutes. The vegetables should be tender but still hold their shape. Remove the parchment for the last 10 minutes if you want the top edges to caramelize slightly.
Step 6: Serve
Serve warm, at room temperature, or even cold. It’s delicious with crusty bread, a poached egg on top, or as a side dish with roast chicken. For a little finesse, drizzle with balsamic glaze and scatter a few torn basil leaves on top.
A Few Notes from Lyon
Ratatouille is not supposed to be fancy — even the fancier version is still peasant food at its core. It’s about seasonal vegetables, olive oil, and time. In many French homes, this dish is cooked in big batches and eaten over several days, getting better each time it’s reheated.
The movie made it beautiful, but the beauty is already there, even in the messier stovetop versions. It’s a dish that smells like summer, like gardens and open windows and mamie’s kitchen. It reminded me — and still reminds me — that cooking isn’t just for professionals in starched white coats.
It’s for students, too. Even tired ones. Even the ones with an exam the next morning and only half a bottle of red wine left.
