By Leslie Brenner
Zucchini can be so perplexing. Is it a great vegetable? Or is it an August requisite that devolves, come September, into a flat-out snooze?
It all depends how you treat it. Grill it to charred, it’s good. Steam it naked, it’s meh. Crank it into zoodles, it’s dumb. Call it courgette, and it’s cool.
After a lifetime of minimal emotional engagement with the squash, I’ve finally — and hopelessly — fallen in love, thanks to a new way I’ve discovered of cooking it to voluptuousness. The technique is simple: Roast it carefully, crush it slightly, drain it briefly, dress it minimally.
The experience of eating it is unlike any other. It’s soft to the point of being almost melty, but the pieces keep their integrity, and the flavor is deep and plush. It’s zucchini mellowed, softened and concentrated, almost sweet.
Want more detail on how to get there? First cut the zucchini into big-bite-size pieces and toss them in olive oil, salt, pepper and thyme. Spread them on a sheet pan, cut-side up, then roast it pretty hot, so the flesh softens and the edges brown a bit. Don’t let it get mushy, just soft. Put the pieces in a colander set over a bowl, and gently crush each piece — just a little; you want them to keep their basic shape. Let them sit and drain a few minutes. Dress with torn basil, toasted pine nuts and a sprinkle of Aleppo pepper, and eat.
With richness in mind, resist the urge to add a squeeze of lemon or a spritz of vinegar. You want to keep it soft and velvety — at least the first time, to savor the real, pure, melty thing in all its plushness.
I fell so hard for it the first time, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Contentious meeting at work? Who cared! I was scheming my next zucchini purchase. I wrote about the dish for my newsletter. I served it for dinner, twice in one week. I made it for friends, making twice as much as we’d need, so I could lunch on the leftovers.
Melted zucchini with burrata
Infinite variations
Now I’m starting to recover from the thrill of discovery, and entering a riffing phase. Last weekend, visiting a friend in California, I was torn. She’d read about it in the newsletter, and wanted to try it. I proposed a major spin: roasting some cherry tomatoes with the zucchini, and adding torn burrata on top, then an extra drizzle of olive oil. She voted for just the burrata, hold the tomatoes, and prevailed; it was pretty great.
There are so many other ways to spin it. You could, for instance, swap the burrata for ricotta. I’m still keen to add cherry tomatoes, but suspect the roasting temp and time will be crucial (I’m looking for a little char, and depth of flavor; they mustn’t disintegrate into the dish, but hold their own).
You might add dried mint with the thyme leaves before roasting, and finish with some torn fresh mint leaves. Or keep it as basic as originally written, and simply finish with lemon zest — lemon flavor without going bright with acid.
Or you could push it in a different direction, and umami it up with nuoc cham, a fish-sauce-happy Vietnamese sauce with lime. Thai basil would be great on that, and you could skip the pine nuts.
Garlic-lovers might want to roast a few cloves in their skins with the zucchini, then peel and chop before adding them in at the end. On the other hand (and in a different mood), raw minced garlic at the end could be good, or black garlic for a different umami blast. Or skip the pine nuts and fling on some furikake.
You could drizzle a little good balsamic vinegar over it. Or shave Parmesan or pecorino on top, or ricotta salata. Or you could skip all cheeses and pile on lots of fresh herbs: parsley, cilantro, basil, mint — maybe even a little fresh oregano. You could go wild with za’atar, silly with sumac.
Don’t they all sound great?!
Now, when that lady down the street shows up with a giant bag of her bumper crop needing a home, will you politely decline? Nah, go ahead — indulge in your own zucchini melt-down. You deserve it.