So my mom isn’t a vegetarian, but Moosewood Restaurant’s collection
of recipes is one of her favorites to cook from. As the pages splattered
with old, unknown ingredients and yellowed post-it notes from the people
she has lent it to expressing their love for the recipes prove, its been
one of the more active books from the shelf. Lovingly, she opened it to her
favorite recipe, grabbed my hand and took me to the patio to sit and contemplate
our grocery list.
Between frustrating me with her crossword puzzle clues and sipping
our glasses of wine, she reminisced of her old garden in Atlanta: acres
of zucchini, squash, tomatoes, and okra filled her summer days with the
joy of growing her own food and old fashioned, hard labor. This is why
she loved the Moosewood recipe book, for her own vegetables starred in
their appearance at the dinner table. Tonight, although they aren’t home-
grown, they once again take the stage in her favorite recipe: Zucchini- Feta
Casserole.
The first step to cooking with my mom is to turn on Barbra Streisand, and
once that’s done, we put on our aprons and begin with cooking the bulgar and
slicing the vegetables. Of course there is always lots of dancing involved once
the vegetables are sautéing in the skillet. The onions were sautéed with garlic
first until their original whiteness became translucent and then the zucchini was
added. Sprinkled with fresh basil and thyme, the symphony of popping garlic and
sizzling vegetables only complimented Barbra in the background (and my mom’s
singing). The cheeses were mixed separately and added to the beaten eggs; tom-
ato paste, fresh parsley, and soy sauce were added to the bulgar and then all com-
bined. The ingredients were layered in the casserole dish and topped with cheddar
cheese and sliced tomato.
Once the casserole was ready to be put in the oven, we finished
cooking the Jewish honey bread called lekach. It was very dry and nutty,
and the “shmear” of cream cheese the recipe book suggested didn’t help
its heaviness. The rest of it is still sitting in my fridge and probably won’t be
revisited.
After an hour or so of dancing and a few hands of our favorite card game
were played, dinner was served. Accompanied with a bottle of crisp French wine,
the casserole was as perfectly delicious as it had been since 1994.
