Simple Ways to Cook a Bounty of Zucchini
For the point in the season when one zucchini somehow becomes twelve.
There is a point every summer when zucchini stops being a vegetable and becomes a situation.
At first, there are two.
Lovely.
You slice them into dinner and feel very pleased with yourself.
Then someone brings you three from their garden.
Then you discover four more in your own.
Then Tuesday arrives and there are eleven zucchini on the counter and absolutely no explanation for how this happened.
This is the zucchini portion of the season.
Fortunately, zucchini is remarkably cooperative.
- It will roast.
- It will char.
- It will become pasta.
- It will disappear into cake.
It will happily sit underneath Parmesan cheese and pretend that was the plan all along.
So before anyone leaves another basket on the porch:
Let’s cook them.
01. Char it.
Zucchini needs heat.
A lot of recipes treat it gently, which is how we end up with the vegetable equivalent of a wet sock.
We would like to avoid that.
Cut zucchini lengthwise into thick planks or substantial rounds. Toss lightly with olive oil and kosher salt, then put it onto a very hot grill or cast-iron pan.
And then leave it alone.
You want real color.
Dark edges.
Blistered spots.
The sort of zucchini that looks like something happened to it.
Finish with lemon, flaky salt and plenty of Parmesan.
02. Make the crispy ones.
There should always be at least one zucchini preparation designed primarily around crispy edges.
This is ours.
Slice zucchini into thick coins.
Toss with olive oil, salt, black pepper and finely grated Parmesan.
Spread everything onto a sheet pan with enough room that the zucchini isn't piled on top of itself.
Roast at 425°F until deeply golden around the edges, flipping once if needed.
When it comes out:
- lemon zest
- more Parmesan
- a little flaky salt
Done.
Give them some room.
Crowded zucchini steams.
And nobody has ever stood over a sheet pan stealing pieces of steamed zucchini before dinner.
03. Put it on toast.
This sounds suspiciously simple.
It is.
Sauté thinly sliced zucchini in olive oil until golden and soft.
Add a little garlic at the very end.
Pile it onto grilled sourdough spread generously with ricotta.
Then add:
- lemon zest
- black pepper
- good olive oil
- basil
Maybe hot honey.
Actually...
Definitely try the hot honey.
This is lunch.
Or dinner.
Or the thing you make at four o'clock and then mysteriously aren't hungry when everyone else wants dinner.
04. Turn it into ribbons.
This is what you do when it is too hot to turn on the oven.
Use a vegetable peeler to shave zucchini lengthwise into long ribbons.
Then toss them with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and black pepper.
Let them sit for about ten minutes.
They soften just enough.
Add shaved Parmesan, toasted pistachios and a ridiculous amount of fresh basil.
That’s it.
No cooking.
No complicated dressing.
No spiralizer purchased during a particularly ambitious period of your life.
Just zucchini.
05. Bake something.
Eventually, every zucchini season reaches the same conclusion.
Cake.
Or bread.
Or muffins.
Technically the zucchini is still there.
But now there is cinnamon involved, so everyone becomes much more enthusiastic.
Grated zucchini keeps cakes beautifully tender without making them taste particularly zucchini-ish, which may be one of the vegetable's greatest accomplishments.
- Chocolate loves it.
- Lemon loves it.
- Walnuts love it.
- Olive oil loves it.
The children who announced at dinner that they DO NOT LIKE ZUCCHINI will often eat two slices.
We don't need to discuss this with them.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Still have zucchini?
Of course you do. Here are a few more places to put it:
- Pasta
- Brown zucchini hard in olive oil, add garlic and chili flakes, toss with pasta water, Parmesan and lemon.
- Frittata
- Zucchini + eggs + goat cheese + herbs.
- Quesadillas
- Charred zucchini + Monterey Jack + scallions + lime.
- Soup
- White beans + zucchini + Parmesan rind + greens.
- Pizza
- Very thin zucchini + mozzarella + lemon zest + pecorino.
- Freezer
- Grate it. Squeeze out excess moisture. Freeze it in measured portions for baking later.
Which brings us to the final strategy.
Give someaway.
There is no shame in this.
In fact, this may be the oldest zucchini recipe of all.
Put three in a paper bag.
Walk next door.
Smile warmly.
I brought you something from the garden.
Do not mention that there are nine more at home.
That information is private.
The abundance is part of the pleasure.
There are weeks when the garden barely gives us anything.
And then there are weeks when it gives us far too much.
Tomatoes ripen at once.
Herbs need cutting.
Zucchini appears faster than anyone can reasonably eat it.
Maybe abundance isn't something we need to manage quite so efficiently.
- Cook some.
- Save some.
- Give some away.
- Invite somebody over.
And when another zucchini appears on the counter tomorrow morning...
we know what to do.
There’s always room for one more.
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