Zucchini season is a confusing time. We dream all winter of an abundant garden, but when late spring arrives and zucchini is at its peak, a certain anxiety sets in. Overnight the zucchini double in size. Faster than we can saute, dehydrate, bread-bake, or pot pie. Faster than we can render them invisible in stews and sauces. Larger than our forearms they grow, until we can hold out no longer and succumb to forcing them upon our guests. Nestled in a lovely basket or tied with a handsome bow- the gardener's tools of charm and distraction.
Next time you bestow that behemoth squash upon your neighbor, do them the kindness of including a recipe suggestion. Your friends are so good to you; how could you send them home without guidance? An old-timey recipe card with clandestine plans for hiding the evidence. So they can puree away that green log of shame. So those poor souls don't have to face their spouses, admitting they failed at backing out of your house unnoticed without a giant zuke in tow. That they must have been clubbed over the head by their courgette-wielding bestie and dragged to their car. "Somehow I ended up home, honey. With a zucchini. Another damn zucchini."