Late-Summer Lunch for 6

I’ve called this a late-summer lunch, because this is when it is eaten at its best: the air still warm, the wind beginning to bluster limply; it may be a late, weak August, it may be early September. But, hell, you could eat it any time: even in the depths of winter. Mostly, I hate too much Mediterranean sprightliness when the weather is shoulder-stoopingly brutal, but the soft stewiness of ratatouille (or at least, that’s the way I like it) accommodates itself elegantly enough to an alien climate.