Zucchini Hash Browns

Zucchini Hash Browns with Yogurt Dipping Sauce

If you're like me, this time of year you are probably up to your ears in surplus zucchini.  Let's say, hypothetically, you forgot to harvest your garden for about a week because you were too busy cleaning up baby vomit and reading terrible baby books.  I mean-- still hypothetically speaking-- these books were so terrible that you can only assume that they were written by a drunk chimpanzee, or possibly a robot programed to mimic a drunk chimpanzee, in some sort of algorithmic formula based on black and white farm cows.

Then, you realize that you haven't harvested your garden in a week, and you suddenly have a zucchini roughly the size of a whiffle ball bat! Your brain has two immediate reactions:

Reaction number 1:  I am a master gardener.  I should take this zucchini to the county fair, because it is surely the grandest zucchini in all the land, and I will be showered with blue ribbons. All the farmers will want to know about my innovative agricultural techniques of severe neglect, which allowed me to produce this prize zucchini.

Reaction number 2:  Oh Shit Balls! How on earth am I going to consume all this zucchini? I mean, how much zucchini bread can I honestly expect us to consume? Do I even really like zucchini that much?  Does anyone?  How can I con my neighbors into taking some of this zucchini?

This is the horrible state of zuchinni-ness I found myself in this summer.  I immediately went on the offensive, and spent an entire morning chopping, shredding, and otherwise dismembering my zucchini, which I named GORGOTH THE ZUCCHINI.  Then I took some of the remains of Gorgoth, which I scattered among my garden as a warning to any other zucchinis who were developing aspirations of grandeur.  Finally, I was ready to begin cooking.

I did the all of the usual zucchini tricks.  I made Zucchini Bread.  I made Zucchini muffins. I chopped, seasoned and sautéed zucchini, then froze it for consumption later in the year. And--after an entire day of cooking-- I still hadn't made a dent.  I still had two enormous ziplock bags of shredded GORGOTH zucchini.  Undaunted, I rashly invented this recipe for ZUCCHINI HASH BROWNS--- which sounds fancy, but it's really not.

Zucchini Hash Browns:

10 cups shredded zucchini (patted dry with a paper towel)

1 cup flour

1 small white onion

2 cloves garlic

2 eggs

salt

pepper

vegatable oil

Here's what I did:

Start with 10 cups of shredded zucchini (use a cheese grater to easily shred your raw zucchini)
Chop up 1 small white onion
Chop up 2 cloves of garlic

In a small pan, sauté the onions and garlic with a little bit of vegetable oil for about two minutes.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the raw shredded zucchini with the onions and garlic you just sauteed,  and then add:
2 eggs
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon pepper
1 tablespoon salt

Stir together vigorously.  Your batter is complete.

From here on out it's a good old fashion fry up.  I used vegetable oil to pan-fry mine.
Using your fingers, grab a glob of batter and form it until it's about the size of a biscuit, and about an inch thick. Throw it in the hot oil until it's browned on one side.  Then flip. Once the hash browns are browned on both sides, set them on a paper towel to soak up excess grease. When ready, throw them on a platter and voila!

I served mine with a yogurt sauce (just mix greek yogurt, lime juice, cumin, and paprika,) and fresh heirloom tomatoes.   The result was pretty delicious.  I took them to a neighborhood party (yes, another one-- my neighborhood LIKES TO PARTY,) and even Tammy, Queen of the Confectionary Arts was impressed.

Hopefully, next year I'll remember to harvest my zucchinis before things get out of hand.  But, if not, at least I'll be ready---butcher knife in hand--to battle the GORGOTH and serve some delicious zucchini hash browns.  Perhaps the drunk chimpanzee who writes my daughters children's books will be enticed to try a few.



add to bowl of shreeded zuchinii, then add flour and eggs.  Stir.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

"Non-stick" Cake Pan, My Ass

Lately I've been baking a lot of chocolate cakes.  Like, a LOT. I don't know what's wrong with me, but ever since Millie was born I've been craving chocolate like crazy.  No.  You know what? "Craving" is the wrong word for it.  I should have said, "I now have a biological need for chocolate, which, if not ingested at thirty minute intervals, will result in my head exploding." I attribute the whole thing to hormones.  Before my baby was born, I had the same amount of chocolate-craving-hormones as any other normal person. Now, after Millie's birth, I have roughly the same amount of chocolate-craving-hormones as a bus full of teenage girls with their periods synched up. Last week I baked three chocolate cakes in a 5 day span.  I am not making that up. I think I need a choco-vention.

You would think that my baking skills would at least improve with each subsequent chocolate cake.  You would be wrong.  I blame this entirely on my "non-stick" cake pan, which is a complete piece of shit.  Yesterday, I baked this cake:

Yeah, I know.  I'm an embarrassment.  It's basically just a pile of crumbles arranged in a vague, cake-like arrangement.  As you can see, I attempted to compensate for its disfiguration by sprinkling powdered sugar in a decorative fashion on top.  This had largely the same effectiveness as putting your grandma in a wonder-bra, or decking out your 1985 Yugo with a sweet spoiler and rims.

Last week, I graciously shared one of my three chocolate cakes at a neighborhood potluck. You can probably imagine how classy it looked based on the picture above. I don't know what prompted me to expose myself like this because, also in attendance at this gathering, was TAMMY, QUEEN OF THE CONFECTIONARY ARTS.  Tammy, Queen of the Confectionary Arts, is our neighbor and supreme overlord of all things sugar-based.  If you invite Tammy to your house for dinner with only 30 minutes notice, she will show up with a dessert that looks like it was stolen from America's Test Kitchen, and an entree wrapped in bacon.  Here is an example of a little dish that Tammy recently brought to a causal neighborhood barbecue:

I know.  WTF Tammy?! What are the rest of us to do in the face of such supreme culinary domination?  Sometimes, as I'm cooking dinner at my own house, I gaze across the street at Tammy's house.  I imagine what she is making in her kitchen and then just say "screw it, let's order a pizza."

Hopefully, one day I'll get a cake pan that doesn't use the term "non-stick" ironically.  In the meantime, my hormones were thinking of holding a little get-together at our place tonight.  Tammy, we've been meaning to ask you-- would  you care to join us?  We'll be having chocolate-wonderbra-crumble, and whatever you'd like to bring.

Guest Blog!

This week I wrote a guest blog for my sister Kelly's West Virginia based CSA.

• If you live in West Virginia, you should totally enroll in her CSA. 
• If you don't live in West Virginia, but are enrolled in a different CSA, you should probably still frequent her website, because there are lots of recipes, including ones for cocktails.  So, when you are all "Oh! What am I supposed to do with these organic marketmore cucumbers?"  She will tell you EXACTLY what to do with those organic marketmore cucumbers. (answer: soak them in vodka.)
• If you are reading this and thinking "What is a CSA?" I want you to go out and buy a book with a foreword by Michael Pollan. Right now. 

Anyways, here is the link!  You should read my post because it's funny, and it will tell you how to cook chard without it tasting like dirt!

*In addition to being one hell of a farmer and cook, Kelly is a bad ass community organizer.  Be warned, she uses cocktails as an offensive tool for social domination, and is the only person I know of who has managed to weaponize Limoncello.

The 4th of July is Cricket's Least Favorite Holiday

I love the 4th of July. Any holiday that combines beer, water-sports, and colorful fire is OK in my book.

This year was our first 4th of July as parents.  We did the responsible thing and took our daughter on  her first public skinny dipping excursion*.  Afterwards, we left the party early to get her into bed by eight-thirty. We were sad to leave, but this did mean that we got to spend the evening with our dog, Cricket.  Unfortunately, Cricket cannot attend any July 4th parties because of the proprietary relationship she feels towards all unattended hot-dogs.  She also goes bat-shit when the fireworks start.

* Just to be clear--only the baby was skinny dipping-- we had bathing suits.

I still remember Cricket's first July 4th.  We were at the lake with our family, and had just enjoyed a long and fulfilling day of beer and water-sports. We settled into our lawn chairs to enjoy the town-sanctioned firework displays, and also the amateur firework displays-- which were much more impressive than the ones put on by the town. (It's important to note that this particular lake was located in South Carolina, where roadside firework stands are the largest contributor to the state's economy, and neighbors--while friendly--are somewhat competitive in the area of backyard pyrotechnics.)

The dog was having a blast.  She had gotten to swim in the lake all day, fetch sticks by jumping off the end of the dock, and roll in an unidentified dead fish that had washed up on shore.  You might say that it was the greatest day of her dog life. That's when the fireworks started.  She couldn't understand why everyone was just sitting there when WE WERE UNDER ATTACK! She had no choice--she did what any brave and loyal labrador would do and BOLTED. I think she figured that if someone was going to get shot, it might as well be her parents, who were much slower than her and had been pretty stingy with their unattended hotdogs earlier anyways.

We eventually chased her down and put her in the trailer for the rest of the evening, but that's when we realized that the 4th of July is the one night of the year that Cricket must be indoors.  Usually we heartlessly leave her-- going off to a party while she cowers under the bed alone.  This year was different.  We sat with Cricket and reassured her as the fireworks exploded. Instead of the bed, she cowered under the coffee table-- which we viewed as a great improvement. All in all it was a great evening, full of cold beers, a sleeping baby, and a very grateful dog.  We managed to eat 3 of the 6 hot dogs we brought to the party, which is our best average yet.  Maybe next year, we'll go back to the way things were, going out on the town without the dog.  Or just maybe, Cricket will learn to be brave and then she can go skinny dipping too.

How To Win your Next Baby Shower- 7 Great Handmade Gift Ideas

Now maybe it's because I'm getting older, or maybe all my friends are just getting really lazy about taking their birth control, but I've been attending a TON of baby showers recently.

Baby showers are a chance for a woman's friends to gather around her and show their love and support for her unborn child by buying it onesies--- it's NOT a competition, in the same way that the Olympics are not a competition.  You naive fools! Baby showers are TOTALLY a competition, and if you want to stay in a woman's close circle of friends, you'd better bring your A-game and get ready to pull a Tanya Harding on any woman who brings the same gift as you.

Obviously, the best way to win a baby shower is to spend ALL THE MONEY YOU HAVE. You may think "that's ridiculous, she doesn't need that many onesies!" But, you're forgetting that, not only do onesies come in newborn sizes, but also in 0-3 month sizes.  If you really love your friend, you will go to the ATM, take out all of your cash, and convert it instantly to plastic Target gift cards with teddy bear motifs.

However, if your current cash flow is a little restricted, but you still want to make a gesture that says "I love you more than these friendship usurping hags," you can always try giving her a thoughtful and creative gift instead.  And, since society dictates that the handmade gift is always the best, the other women at the shower will have to concede that you brought the best gift, even if they are the ones who respected your friend's wishes by sticking to her registry.

Here are 7 handmade gift ideas that will blow your next baby shower out of the water.

1. Book it! Sean and I received an AWESOME handmade book from the daughter of some of our neighbors.  It's a children's story about the love between our dog, Cricket, and their dog, Seamus, and it is easily the best piece of literature I have ever seen.  Here are a few pictures from the book:

I know what you're thinking, "I'm not as talented as the little girl who wrote this book!" I know you're not--- no one is-- but you can still create your own book by using photos for your illustrations.  I wrote a book/photo album this fall for the 6 recent babies in my life (seriously, I think my friends need a refresher lesson on how birth control pills work,) and had it printed on a site called Lulu.  Now, whenever I need another book printed, I can just pull up my saved book and order another copy.

2. Dork out: Not many people take into account the Dad when shopping for a shower gift, but you can make your gift stand out, by giving the gift that he will like the best.  Take for instance this baby quilt:

This was made by Sean's cousin, who runs an Etsy store called, the swankie blankie.  What makes this Star Wars quilt even more amazing is that is has a matching death star burp cloth.  I want you to take a minute to process what I just said. A MATCHING DEATH STAR BURP CLOTH. Now, imagine you are the coworker of the dad who received this baby quilt.  Monday morning, when you ask him how the shower went, this blanket is the difference between him groaning and saying "ughh....it was horrible!" and him shrugging his shoulders and saying "It wasn't too bad. Someone gave us a Star Wars quilt and a matching burp cloth with the death star on it."

3. Get Practical: One of the best handmade gifts I received at my baby shower was a stack of homemade flannel breast pads from my friend Elizabeth.  She included a funny note about how, regretfully, I was about to start leaking in impolite places, and that she had whipped these up for me on her sewing machine. Now, at the time I didn't really register how much I would love this gift, but sure enough, as soon as my baby was born I started squirting like a horny holstein.  This homemade gift saved the day, and prevented me from having to trouble-shoot that particular crisis with a house full of relatives, on less than two hours sleep a night, and with diaper cream on my hands.

4. Knit it and quit it.  Hand-knitted gifts are to baby showers what bacon wrapped shrimps are to buffet lines--the best thing on the table.  Knitters, remember that-- again, like bacon wrapped shrimps-- these items go fast!  It only takes a few hours to knit a baby garment that will make your competitors fellow party goers green with envy,  (or that could just be all the baby-shower guacamole) either way, start knitting tiny baby socks! On the left is a baby hat I designed and knitted as baby gifts this year.  On the right is a photo of a titty-hat. When worn by a new baby while breastfeeding--- well you get it, it's hilarious. I can't take credit for this idea, that must go to my little sister, Tori who is truly twisted.

 

5. Go Artsy Fartsy: When Millie was born, our neighbor Sue achieved complete baby shower domination, by commissioning Wilmington, NC based artist, Maya Simonson to do a piece of artwork for the baby's room.   Maya includes little girls in all of her watercolors, and this particular piece was inspired by what she imagined life to be like for a little girl growing up on our street.

 

The nice thing about custom artwork is that is will hang in the baby's room as a constant reminder to the other women who visit the nursery of their inadequacy giving baby gifts.  If you can't commission a piece from an artist, you can also try choosing illustrations from a classic children's book such as "Where the Wild Things Are," or "Winnie the Pooh" and having them matted and framed to match your friend's nursery decor.

6. Because I said Sew: The top drawer of Millie's dresser is organized into two sections.  On the right side is Things The Baby Poops On, while the left side is all the Things the Baby Throws Up On.  In this drawer are a collection of hand sewn burp cloths, bib's and other vomit-collection textiles that are so artfully done, they deserve to be on display at the Smithsonian.  Instead-- as I may have mentioned-- I use them to collect baby throw up. But, each time I do, I think fondly of the women who gifted them to us.

If you're a talented seamstress, and you're bossy enough, you could win your next baby shower by taking a page out of my friend Emily's book. When some of our dear friends became pregnant with twin baby girls, Emily instructed each individual in our circle of friends to make a quilt square.  This was a serious feat of cat-herding that involved several organizational deadlines, the mailing of squares across multiple states, and more than one firmly worded reminder email. However, in the end, she got results, and cobbled the squares together into these two beautiful quilts, forever endearing herself to the young parents, and clearly winning their baby shower.

7.  Throw some Bows- Just after the baby was born, we received a box of these handmade hair-bows from our friend Leslie:

I'm sorry--- it was rude of me not to warn you that these photos may make your head may explode from cuteness. CAUTION: THESE PHOTOS MAY CAUSE AN OVERWHELMING URGE TO PROCREATE, ESPECIALLY WITH LONG, SILKY-HAIRED GENTLEMEN.  So, even if you can't paint, knit, or sew, I'm willing to bet that you can operate a glue gun. Granted, your bows probably won't look as good as Leslie's do, but that is because she is the Michelangelo of ribbon, and you are just some asshole with a glue gun.

Party-goers, I hope these tips give you some good ideas for handmade baby shower gifts.  Personally, I've really enjoyed getting to brag about all the good presents I got, which I'm sure are much better than the ones you will be making. If you've read this entire post, and you still don't have any ideas for your next baby shower gift, I hate to say it, but you don't deserve to win. If I were you I'd head straight to the ATM because--as you can see from these photos--you're going to be facing some stiff competition.

Quit Hogging the Crock Pot!

Sean and I miss a lot of things about living in the South.  We miss the great live music scene, and the way people would show up to almost any social engagement (including funerals) with a guitar in the trunk of their car. We miss how spring started in late February, when the woods would become stupid with redbuds and dogwoods.  We miss seeing loggerhead turtles nesting on the beach (no, I'm not making that up, that really happened.) We miss real honeysuckles and real sweet tea, but most of all, we miss the barbecue.

HA! You thought I was going to say we miss the people most, didn't you?!  Sorry guys-- we do actually miss y'all a lot too-- but, while it turns out that there are some decent people here in Ohio, the same can't be said for the barbecue. UGH. What a bunch of soggy, tomatoey, horse-meat.

So, today, I am trying to recreate a little bit of down home heart disease hospitality, by cooking a southern style feast, complete with hog. Here's what's on the menu:

• Pulled Pork Barbecue with Eastern NC style Vinegar Sauce (crock pot edition)
• 3 Cheese Macaroni with a crunchy, breaded top
• Brussel Sprouts baked to crispy perfection
• Slaaaw
• Blueberry Cobbler

Now, I know what you're thinking. You can't cook hog in a crockpot!! It's not real barbecue unless it's been slow cooked for hours over a fire that you were up at 5 am chopping wood for! Don't you think I know that?  But, I have a lot of things working against me when it comes to making real, authentic southern BBQ right now.

1. First of all, my name is not Keith. That's a real drawback.  I don't have hands the size of hubcaps, and I don't have any commemorative nascar arm tattoos. I do have a few t-shirts with the arms cut out- but they're all packed away with my non-maternity clothes.

2. I'm not cooking over a fire. I KNOW it's almost blashepmy. But, while I was up at 5 am this morning, I was busy feeding, rocking, and de-pooping a tiny screaming person, and didn't have time to start any fires in our outdoor smoker.

3. I don't know how they cook it anyways.  Just because you grow up in the south doesn't mean you are automatically pre-programmed with the secrets to making the perfect pulled pork.  No. In fact, if you DO know how to make pork taste that good, you are automatically seen as some sort of cultural freaking gem.  I think that southern barbecue masters are the modern day equivalent of tribal medicine men, except that they probably get more blow jobs than tribal medicine men did, and they DEFINITELY get more free hushpuppies.

So, while I acknowledge that in NO WAY am I capable of producing authentic southern style barbecue, while caring for a 10 week-old baby, on a weekday, in Ohio, while wearing a cardigan-- this crockpot recipe will at least satisfy our cravings until we can get down there for the real thing. Here's what I did.

Step one: I went to the LOCAL MARKET to buy a sustainably raised, hormone-free, cruelty-free, ethically superior piece of eco-friendly rainbow meat. It's important not to skip this step, because the smugness you get from shopping locally will make your food taste better. So, get down to your local coop and pick out the largest boston butt that will still fit in your crock pot.

Step two: When we woke up this morning, I heated some olive oil with the skillet on high, and pan-fried the meat until it was a golden, crispy brown. The kitchen smelled glorious.  *Note: This is also a great technique to increase your husband's love for you! I often call Sean at work and say to him, "if you stop at the store and get me (insert random grocery item), then I promise the whole house will smell like bacon when you come home."It works everytime.

Step three:  I chopped up a small onion, and layered the bottom of the crock pot with the pieces. I then carefully transferred the meat from my skillet to the crockpot, avoiding dropping it on the floor where our fool-of-a-labrador was drooling with reckless abandon. Then I chopped up another onion and threw this on top of the meat.

Step four: In a measuring cup, I mixed 3/4 a cup of Apple Cider Vinegar, 1 tsp brown sugar, one tablespoon red pepper, a dash of salt, and dash of black pepper.  I poured this on top of the meat.

Step Five: I put the lid on my crock pot and cooked it all freaking day.

Step six: I pulled the meat out of the crock pot and placed it on a cutting board. After discarding the onion and all but a small amount of the cooking juices, I shredded the meat with two forks. Then I added it to the remaining cooking juices.  This batch was just a tiny bit soggy, so I pan fried 1/3 of the meat in a little veggie oil to crisp it up, a give it that "just off the barbecue" feel. Then I added the sauce.

Unless you have terrible taste in food, you'll probably want some sauce to go with your barbecue.  Now I'm not stupid enough to start a ciber-war over the best approach to bbq sauces, but here is an easy and quick recipe for a great tasting sauce. If your grandmother's recipe is better-- why don't you go to your grandmother's blog to rant about it, because I don't want to frigging hear it. If you prefer a tomato or mustard based sauce, you can kiss my ass.  Just kidding!  Everyone's entitled to their own opinions about sauce, (no matter how wrong or misguided they are.) Chose the one that's best for you, here's what we like:

1 part apple cider vinegar
1 part white vinegar,
season to taste with brown sugar, red pepper, tabasco, salt, and black pepper.
Make a few days in advance and let in sit in the fridge.

Here is a picture of the crock-pot hog. It turned out pretty well, but the hand's down winner of the evening was the blueberry cobbler.