It was worse than a dark and story night. It was a summer day that felt like fall, the kind of day that made you want to slaughter and devour pumpkins, preferably while quaffing cider. Then, at the wrong place and the wrong time entered a zucchini. A monster of a zucchini. There was no choice but to take care of it (cue ominous music.) A dastardly deed cannot be done without serious premeditation. Then the plan became clear, Lemon Cornmeal Zucchini Cookies from Everyday Food.
Even the box grater had fear in its heart.
The parchment paper, always smooth and good at handling the heat, waited with coolness and gave confidence to the other members of the kitchen. The cookie dough scoop, however, was the biggest cheerleader of them all considering how seldom he is deployed.
Still, the zuchinni lived on.
One morning for breakfast I decided that the zucchini needed to be tamed again, so I sliced it into rectangles and cooked it with onions, basil, pinto beans and a tomato from the garden. It was uber tasty served over quinoa.
But there was more zucchini to be contended with. So I made pizza involving a bread dough I had in the fridge plus thinly sliced onions, eggplant, and you guessed it, the zucchini. It was tasty, but there was still a whole lot of zucchini in the fridge. Two to three more dishes worth of zucchini. By this time, it was getting personal and I became more determined to cook the entirety of the zuke.
Labor Day came, and yes, I labored away at getting to the bottom of the zucchini situation. So Alex and I made a soup with the zucchini, tomatoes, eggplant, rosemary and a few other choice ingredients.
I have to disclose that the zucchini came in handy recently.
I opened the fridge this morning to be mocked by the zucchini. I grabbed it from the fridge and began to shred it with the grater. It was going to meet its end. It would be cooked in an omelet and kissed with Sriracha.
Finally, finally the end was near. I knew what had to be done. The skillet was already hot from the omelet, so Mr. Zucchini, who had, by this time, acquired far nastier names, would meet the skillet, thinly-sliced to be dressed with lemon juice. It would mingle with a tomato, quinoa, and homemade sweet pepper pickles. It would be thrown into a plastic container. It would be lunch.
The end.