Zucchini. If you live in the Midwest and you have a garden or you know someone who has a garden, you are familiar with this ubiquitous summer squash. It is prolific and can take over your garden, your kitchen and your life if left unchecked. That may be a bit of an overstatement but not by much.
I don't have a garden. I use to but why bother when there are so many generous people who want to share their abundance with me? Zucchini is not so much shared as it is dropped on your doorstep in the dead of night in hopes that you will take it in and make it into something amazing. There are entire Pinterest pages and magazine articles dedicated to the culinary creations in which this fruit--yes, it is botanically a fruit-- can be incorporated.
Bruce's dad planted zucchini in his garden this year as he has always done. I don't remember whether last year's crop was bumper or bust. It is hard to remember much of what transpired last year from July and August. It is the time in which we began the process of saying good-bye to Bruce's mom before she took her final breath on August 20th, 2014.
Mom knew the ways of the zucchini well. She could have written a book on the zen of the zucchini or perhaps billed herself as the squash whisperer. She could take this simple garden staple and without so much as an abracadabra or voila she could produce appetizers, side dishes, main dishes and desserts. I do not have this talent and so once again I began to look through Mom's cookbooks to see if she had left me any hints as to what to do with this year's bounty.
I usually love looking through Mom's cookbooks and clippings, often seeing her handwriting in the margins of the books or on a recipe card. This time, however, the air was heavy with the heat and humidity that is an Illinois summer. But it was more than just the barometric pressure that was making me feel listless, sad--heavy. On this day I was once again reminded that memories, while they often serve as solace, can occasionally bring forth a whole new wave of grief.
My search wasn't bringing forth much more than frustration and a few tears. Dad had mentioned a dish of Mom's that he was longing for--a dish made with zucchini. Reaching back into his memory he recollected hamburger and tomatoes as part of the list of ingredients as well. Beyond that, he was at a loss. Mom's magic in the kitchen was often a mystery. She could and did create dishes of which the chefs on "Chopped" would be envious.
Taste,smell and touch are powerful forces when it comes to memory. Certain flavor combinations, the fragrance of spices, the texture of the various ingredients--food can be the path that takes us back to the past in an instant. I wanted so badly to recreate this taste memory for Dad but I was nervous. I didn't want to disappoint him and I had so little to go on--no notes, no recipe, no Mom.
I knew I just needed to dive in. There was no other way. I had to be fearless--like Mom. I needed to just start putting things together and hope for the best. Although, we had cleaned out Dad's big freezer last year, there still remained in the small freezer compartment of the refrigerator a few dishes emblazoned with Sharpie notations in Mom's distinctive style. A container that once held whipped topping had the word "Tomatoes" on it, while a smaller one, that in a previous life had held margarine, said "Tomato Soup." Knowing that tomatoes were one of the ingredients for the zucchini creation that Dad recalled, I pulled that container from the freezer and opened it.
At first I was confused by what the dish held. The ice crystals that had formed made it difficult to determine what exactly this was that I had found. I only knew that it was special--important. It was a bit of the past just waiting to be recovered.
"Dad," I began. My throat felt tight with emotion and my heart seemed to beat faster as I held the container open for him to see what I was seeing.
"Is this what you were describing to me?" I continued slowly--hopefully.The container didn't hold whipped topping or "Tomatoes" It held what appeared to be a concoction of hamburger, tomatoes, beans, onions and--zucchini.
"Yes!" he answered with a soft laugh and a big smile. "Where did it come from?"
"Mom left it for you in the freezer."
I emptied the contents of the dish into a saucepan and began to gently reheat it. Somehow to use the microwave seemed inappropriate. When it was piping hot I dished up the entire contents of the pan into bowls--one for Dad and one for myself. There was no more and no less than what was needed to feed the two of us. It was just right...heartwarming, comforting, delicious.
Some might call it a coincidence--finding that dish in the freezer on that particular day. Some might even say it was magic. Still others will see it as a little miracle. All I know for sure is that Mom fixed lunch for us that day and it nourished us in every way.
Mom's Zucchini Hot Dish
Or as close as I can come--this is what I refer to as a by guess and by golly recipe.
3/4 lb. extra lean ground beef
1 tbs.vegetable oil
1 small to medium zucchini--about 2 cups, with peel and sliced thinly
1 onion, chopped
1 can diced tomatoes or fresh tomatoes if in season
1 can of condensed tomato soup
1 can of chili beans
In a large skillet or saucepan over medium-high heat, brown ground beef and remove to plate. In same pan, heat oil over medium heat and add onions and zucchini and saute for about 5 minutes or until lightly golden. Add tomatoes, tomato soup and browned beef, bring to a boil. Reduce heat and add beans. Simmer until warmed through and reduced to the thickness you prefer.
