I'm sitting on the front stoop of my house, my feet resting on the third brick step and my back leaning against the glass-paned front door, which is slightly ajar. On either side of the door are two oversized slate pots filled with basil plants: an unconventional choice over flowers but a welcome scent to come home to. A woman passes slowly on her bike, stopping a few feet beyond the house and resting one slim Converse-clad foot on the pavement. She's wearing a fitted white t-shirt with a French phrase (one I can't translate) across the front in a pretty block font, and crispy navy Bermuda shorts. Her graying hair is beautifully layered and brushed behind her ears. She waves and calls out tentatively, asking if this is the baby she hears often from her back porch.
I start to stumble over an apology, but she stops me by breaking into a wide smile, telling me that she loves to hear the sound. We start to talk, and before I know it, thirty minutes have passed.
I must have inherited my mother's genes for engaging with strangers (and curiosity), because in that short time, I've learned that her husband is a video producer and director, that she used to write for Elle and Vogue but finds fashion an amusement rather than a vocation (although she carries herself with the confidence of someone comfortable in that world), that she's working on—and has partially abandoned—a nonfiction book about Donald Trump and Jungian theory, and that she's an avid gardener and pretty decent cook.
Casual conversation like this is such a balm for the soul. It gets you out of your own head and out of your own orbit; you smile, you laugh, you ask questions. I make an effort to seek it out as I grow increasingly comfortable venturing into town: I wave through the plate-glass window of the local bookstore at Scott, the owner, and he runs out to lean against the door and chat about which novels we're excited to read this summer (Sweet Sorrow by David Nicholls and Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan and Rodham by Curtis Sittenfeld.)
I wander past the restaurant on the corner across from the grocery store and wave hello to Sarah, the manager, as she sets out tables and menus for the lunch rush. I chat with the couple sitting on their porch by the dock, glasses of white wine in hand, as their kids toss bean bags on the lawn, and with the middle-aged guy climbing up the ladder after a swim, discussing the jellyfish situation and water temperature and the best beaches for open-water swims.
A friend drives by in his pick-up truck on the way to the brewery and he stops outside the house, jumps out of the cab, and perches on the back . He’s a farmer, so we talk (at a distance) about his farm stand and two of his latest projects: one, an art installation of tie-dyed panels covering the outside of his barn, and the other, milling his own wheat berries into flour. He promises to drop some off to experiment with and I promise to drop off a cake, made with freshly milled flour, in return.
We don’t talk about the state of the world, but instead, about the state of our respective tomato plants (thriving), basil plants (mine wilting, his thriving), and zucchini harvest (both about to explode with more zucchini than we could possibly eat).
Because really, there’s only so much pandemic / politics / life plans you can discuss before you just want to watch 25 episodes of Gilmore Girls and talk about zucchini.
And when you, like us, are faced with an endless supply of the stuff, you’d do well to have some ideas in your back pocket for what to make beyond zucchini bread and simply throwing armfuls of it on the grill.
These waffles are good for breakfast or lunch or dinner—and because they’re savory, you can treat them almost like a flatbread, using them as a base for vegetables or chicken salad or lightly dressed greens or a pile of prosciutto or sliced avocado and tomato or anything really.
You can use the zucchini method with basically any waffle recipe you like—just omit the sugar, if the recipe calls for it, and add 1 cup or so of grated zucchini. Be sure to squeeze the zucchini thoroughly to remove as much of the water as you can first.
**You can also sub the 1/4 cup of cornmeal for almond flour or pecan meal, both of which are nice additions.
Cheesy Herbed Zucchini Waffles
2 eggs
1 3/4 cups (397g) buttermilk
8 tablespoons (113g) butter, melted and cooled slightly
1 3/4 cups (206g) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cornmeal
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups grated zucchini, squeezed dry
3/4 cup grated cheddar cheese
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme or oregano
Beat together the eggs, buttermilk, and butter.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal. baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Fold the dry ingredients into the wet, stirring until just barely combined.
Fold in the zucchini, cheese, and herbs.
Heat your waffle iron and oil/spray it generously, then cook accordingly to the iron’s instructions until golden brown on both sides.