Re-realizations

Once a week, I participate in a work share program at a local organic farm.  I help hand weed, harvest crops from the field, plant seeds, wash produce - and in exchange, I receive enough vegetables to fill my fridge until next time.  It's been therapeutic in many ways.  And it's incredible how much easier it is to talk to people when your hands are covered in dirt.  
Last week, myself and the other work shares were exchanging early food memories. 

My earliest memory of eating zucchini bread isn't particularly interesting and yet the deliciousness of that bread has been part of my sense memory for years.  Since the day my cousin Dan made zucchini bread and I succeeded in slowly over the course of the afternoon eating half of the loaf by myself, stealthily one small slice at a time, no other zucchini bread I've tasted has ever matched that first loaf in flavor.  And that's how memories work, I suppose.  Particular ones become more and more fantastical and complex.  We start to hold them in our minds like rare objects frozen proudly behind glass, seemingly untouched when in fact, we have most likely reconstructed them a thousand times over.  

Sometimes I have realizations that are not new ideas - they are usually things I have already known and understood for quite some time.  But when they hit a sweet spot in my mind, the potency of those thoughts is so intense that it becomes a momentary transcendental experience.  I like to refer to these thoughts as "re-realizations".   I had a few of those when I visited my grandparents recently.  While we leafed through old albums and weeded my grandfather's backyard garden, I began to appreciate more the idea of legacy.  Watching my grandfather cut zucchinis and fill my basket, thoughts of family and lineage swirled in my mind and I found myself feeling overwhelmed.  The garden I stood in  was a testament to his labor and effort. 
 I myself - I am an extension of this man.  I am a continuation and a variation.  A body that carries parts of the past.  

I understand now that many of my food memories  are idealized to a degree that will never allow me to fully enjoy those foods with quite the zeal I did during that initial encounter.  The same could be said of many things.  But all the experiences after that are just different, not necessarily better or worse. This bread was made with a zucchini grown by my grandfather.  He planted, tended and harvested the zucchini with his bare hands and passed it down to me.  And here I am, employing my own efforts to do right by this zucchini.  All of that energy arranged quietly, embodied in a single form for me to enjoy in this moment.  

This moment. That's what really matters.

Zucchini Oat Bread
Makes 2 - 9 x 5 x 3 inch loaf cake

Ingredients

3 large eggs (room temperature)
1 cup oil, yogurt or applesauce (room temperature)
1 1/4 c (8 3/4 oz) granulated sugar
1/2 c (3 3/4 oz) brown sugar
1 tbsp vanilla extract
3 c (12 3/4 oz) white whole wheat or all purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
3 1/2 c (1 pound) grated zucchini
1 1/4 c old fashioned oats, divided
raw sugar (optional)

Method

Preheat a conventional oven to 350 F.  
Grease 2, 9 X 5 inch loaf pans and set aside.

In a mixing bowl, combine the eggs, oil, sugar, brown sugar and vanilla extract.  Whisk to combine.

In a separate bowl, sift the flour, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda and baking powder together.  Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour the wet ingredients into it.  Gently fold to incorporate.  When the mixture is starting to come together, add the grated zucchini and 1 cup of the old fashioned oats.  Fold until the batter is cohesive. 

Divide the batter into the two prepared loaf pans.  Top with the remaining 1/4 c of oats as well as a generous sprinkle of raw sugar if desired.  Tap the pans gently on the counter to release any air bubbles.

Bake the cakes for about 50 - 55 minutes, or until a tester poked into the center comes out clean.  Let the cakes cool in the pan on a rack for 30 minutes and then turn them out of the pans and let them finish cooling on the racks. 

This post and recipe was updated on 7/18/15