17 Zucchini: What to Do Before They Escape

It’s July in Redmond and I have a problem. Specifically, I have seventeen zucchini on my counter, three more hiding under leaves the size of a kindergartner, and my daughters have stopped making eye contact with me at dinner. We are in the glut. You know the one.

Every year I tell myself I’ll only plant one zucchini. Every year I plant three because “what if one doesn’t make it.” They all make it. They always make it. One zucchini plant can produce 6 to 10 pounds of fruit per week at peak, and I planted three, so here we are doing math I don’t enjoy.

Anyway. You don’t need sympathy. You need strategies. Here are the ones that actually work.

Freeze It (the boring answer that you should definitely do)

I resisted freezing zucchini for years because I assumed it would turn to mush. It does turn to mush. That’s fine, because mush is exactly what you want for zucchini bread in February when there’s no produce worth buying and you’re staring at grey skies wondering why you live here.

Shred it, squeeze out as much water as you can, and there is a shocking amount of water in there. Zucchini is about 95% water by weight, which is why your bread gets weird if you skip this step. Freeze in 2-cup portions. Label them. You will not remember what that grey blob is in November.

For soups, cube it into half-inch pieces and freeze raw. No blanching needed for soup since it’s going straight into liquid anyway. For stir fry, slice it thin, blanch two minutes in boiling water, ice bath, pat dry, then freeze in a single layer before bagging. Blanching deactivates the enzymes that make frozen vegetables go sad and weird over time. Science. Moving on.

Quick Preservation (for the ones you want to eat soon)

Refrigerator pickles are almost embarrassingly easy. Slice thin, pack into a jar, pour over a hot brine of equal parts water and white vinegar with a little salt and sugar, let it cool, stick it in the fridge. They’re ready in about 24 hours and last a few weeks. My older daughter eats them straight from the jar, which I choose to see as a win.

Lacto-fermented zucchini is the slightly nerdier move. Salt draws water out of the squash through osmosis, and the resulting brine creates an environment where lactobacillus bacteria thrive and crowd out the bad stuff. Which is exactly as cool as it sounds. You just need zucchini, salt, and a jar. Slice it, pack it tight, dissolve about a tablespoon of non-iodized salt per cup of water, pour over until covered, weigh it down so nothing floats, cover loosely, and leave on the counter for 3 to 5 days. Tangy, crunchy, probiotic, free. Harder to explain to houseguests but worth it.

Dehydrated zucchini chips are the one that surprises people. Slice them thin (a mandoline helps, or patience and a sharp knife), season however you want, and dry at 135°F for 6 to 8 hours. They shrink to almost nothing. Two zucchini becomes a sandwich bag of chips. My kids actually eat these, which is the highest endorsement I can offer. Squash goals, honestly.

The Porch Drop (neighborhood etiquette edition)

There is an unspoken code for this and I feel obligated to share it. You may leave zucchini on a neighbor’s porch. This is acceptable and even expected in July. But you must do it at dusk, you must not ring the doorbell, and you may not leave more than three at once. Leaving a bag of eleven is an act of aggression. I don’t make the rules.

The work truck at a job site is also a legitimate drop zone. So is the break room at work. Farmers markets sometimes have free boxes. Churches. Leave a paper bag by your mailbox with a sign that says FREE. People will take them. I have done this. It works. Zucchini are gone by morning like some kind of summer squash magic trick.

The Real Lesson Here (which I already knew and ignored)

Two plants. That’s the number. Two zucchini plants is enough for a family of four with plenty left for all of the above. Each female flower needs a male flower to produce fruit, and two plants pollinating each other is genuinely all the botany you need here. Three plants is hubris. I know this. I do it anyway.

Next year I’m planting two. I say this every July. The zucchini are already planning their counterargument.

Photo by Olia Bondarenko on Unsplash