My mother is gone. In the future we will share a more elaborate tribute (perhaps many, as there couldn't be enough), but believe it or not, there was a time in my life I didn't like ratatouille. Imagine that? Until she invited me to cook it with her. We miss you, maman.
I wasn't the only person she led to the glories of this dish. On hearing about her death, family friend Christopher Harley wrote me and my brother: "Blanche is now where the marigolds are as large as Provençal dinner plates." Condolences. She taught me how to make coffee and ratatouille and then enjoy them." Amen.