A Very Nonna Summer: Fried Zucchini

For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to live in a home with a backyard and a pool. Now I just want to be free, like my boobs when they are no in a bra. But allow me to reminisce for a brief moment.

During the summer of ‘88 my grandma made my dream come true.  She finally caved at the repeated request (can’t we have a pool?  why can’t we have a pool? there’s so much space in the yard for a pool?) and somehow managed to convince my grandfather that it was a good idea.  We had one of the biggest yards on the block, so much of it was going to waste - you know, like the huge garden we kept, rose bushes, grape vines, the cherry tree.  Get rid of that garbage, we could have a pool!  I was chubby, but man was I stoked at the thought of cannon balls and running on grass in the privacy of my own home – instead of skipping over sprinklers mounted on concrete, fire hydrant scouting, and long summer days at free camp.  A pool.  I could have my first pool party.  A pool.  I would never pee in it.

Much to my dismay, instead of the pool going on the lush green grass that lined our side yard it was erected on the concrete slabs that made up our backyard.  The concrete backyard, where the clothes lines hung and where my grandmother would dry out zucchini and collect grapes.  The concrete yard where we had a giant shed full of steel, old fabric, fireworks and our bicycles. 

Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful for the pool.  I was thankful my grandma gave up a portion of her work-space for the betterment of our childhood.  I’d like to think seeing me play in the street, fire hydrant water striking my rotund behind, made my grandma pro-pool.  But I’m sure it was more than that, she always wanted to see me happy.  

The clothes lines blocked the street view of my abonormally large and awkwardly shaped 8 year old body and gave me and my brother a place to cool off.  The pool was only 3 feet deep, square and had no ladder (we used to just hop in over the side).  Outfitted with no deck or any frills, our pool sat a top a giant piece of tarp.  I’d watch my grandfather pace the grass, while I frolicked and splashed and cursed at my brother in a muted tone.  Sometimes my grandmother would sit in a lawn chair beside the pool and watch Lou and I act like caged animals.  It beat free summer camp in every way.  

Trays lined with zucchini were far enough away so as not to get splashed with the chlorine water.  I’d venture out in the morning, in my striped bathing suit, always first stopping to stare at the fleshy pieces of zucchini, as they began to bead up with moisture. Throughout the day, they would shrivel up – taking on the likeness and texture of the  Weight Watchers dried apple pieces my mother would pack in my lunch box.  But grandma wasn’t feeding us dried zucchini, she was frying it, layering it, and smothering it in red wine vinegar, salt, basil/mint and garlic.  These zucchini could make a sandwich sing, although my preference was always to eat them plain – oil and vinegar coating my fingers (yes I picked with my fingers, never with a fork, and grandma wouldn’t yell).

As of today I’ve no pool.  I’ve no backyard. I’ve not one family member to speak of that still lives in Brooklyn.  I have a delightful apartment in Queens that’s equipped with a fire escape.  On most brutally hot summer days, I think about clearing out my living room and placing a giant inflatable kiddie pool on my rug so I have a private space to cool off (that’s slightly larger than my bath tub).  

The fire escape seemed like the only natural place to dry out the zucchini.  I stared out my window and watched as they became moist.  They didn’t suffer the brunt of pigeon poop.  Nothing flew away and my management company never found out I was using the fire escape to conduct a cooking experiment.

After 8 hours in the sun, I brought the zucchini inside and continued to let them dry overnight.  By the next morning, they were dry, slightly spongy and shriveled – just like they were supposed to be.

The zucchini were served at dinner with my Aunt and Uncle, along with my grandmas pickled eggplant.

When I move to a farm, somehow conveniently located near a beach or close to water (my other favorite place on this earth), there will be summers of jarring tomatoes, making wine and more zucchini and eggplant than one woman could possibly consume. 

Fried Zucchini with Red Wine Vinegar, Basil & Garlic

2-3 zucchini (cut in half and slice lengthwise in ¼" pieces)
¼ c. olive oil for frying
2-3 T. red wine vinegar
4-5  cloves of garlic (minced)
10-12 leaves of basil (chiffonade)
Kosher salt 

-Sun dry zucchini (The more time the better, a full 24 hours in the sun will do it.  In my case, I had to avoid the elements and pigeon poop, so drying them in a hot room over night did the trick.)
-In a large frying pan, heat olive oil
-Add zucchini and fry for 1 minute on each side (You’ll notice the dried zucchini will fry/brown super quickly because all of the moisture is now gone.)
-Let drain on a paper towel
-Layer zucchini in a 8x8 pyrex dish, sprinkling with salt, lightly dousing with vinegar, garlic and basil (repeat until layering is complete)
-Refrigerate for a few hours or overnight (The longer this dish sits, the more flavorful it gets)