grandma ferguson’s chocolate zucchini cake

I mentioned zucchini cake on social media last night, and several friends virtually perked up their ears. (I apparently pick my friends based on their good taste in food.) While I’ve inexplicably been on a pie kick this past year, when zucchini season rolls around, my thoughts turn to chocolate cake.

Wait, what?

Strange, I know. But zucchini cake is one of my comfort foods, straight from my grandmother’s kitchen when I was a kid. Moist and delicious, chocolaty but not heavy, with itty-bitty threads of shredded zucchini poking out occasionally, it’s a great summer dessert. Traditionally paired at grandma’s house with mint chocolate chip ice cream in a square, bumpy, clear glass bowl and a glass of skim milk (which I hated when I was a kid, and still do), I recommend serving it warm for best ooey-gooey flavor.

Like the surface of the moon – only better. 

The best part? Your kids will eat it. I promise. This cake has moved *fast* at summer block parties and moves even faster in my house. When I pulled it out of the oven last night and served small portions to my kids, they were gone in minutes. My son, who is not a big vegetable fan, proclaimed excitedly that he ‘can’t even taste the zucchini!’,* asked for seconds, and literally LICKED HIS LIPS when I handed him the second piece. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

The other best part? Two cups of shredded zucchini go into each recipe. So if you’re under a zucchini avalanche this summer, shred to your heart’s content, throw it in two cup portions into the freezer, and make this recipe all year long.

Grandma Ferguson’s Chocolate Zucchini Cake**

1/2 cup butter

1/2 vegetable oil

1 3/4 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 sour milk (can add one tablespoon vinegar)

2 1/2 cups AP flour

4 tablespoons cocoa

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon clove (I usually just omit this and double the cinnamon)

2 cups finely diced or shredded zucchini

1/4-1/2 cup chocolate chips (I also use chocolate shavings)

Cream butter, oil, and sugar together, Add eggs. Beat; add vanilla. Alternating, add milk & dry ingredients. beat well. Stir in zucchini. Spoon into 9″x12″ greased and floured pan. Sprinkle top with chips. Bake at 325 degrees for 40-50 minutes. Test center with fork for doneness. Can be served warm or cool.

*It is a Jessica Seinfeld-esque recipe, but it predates her by at least twenty years.

**I’ve only ever seen this recipe on a handwritten card, but it’s conceivable that it came from a cookbook somewhere, so if you recognize it, please let me know so no one sues me.

the all volunteer army

I’ve grown vegetable plants many, many times before. This is the first time I’ve done so many things from seed. As challenging as nurturing seedlings into full-grown plants can be, babying things from seed adds a whole new level of difficulty. I can’t tell you how many seedlings I’ve seen die from too much water, not enough water, too much sun, not enough sun, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time this season. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this level of commitment every year.

That’s why I’m thankful for the veritable terra cotta army of volunteer tomato plants that I discovered when taking out my (overwhelmingly prolific) pea plants. I’d interspersed spinach seeds in the pea bed, but the peas went nuts and the spinach was crowded out, so I wasn’t expecting much. Imagine my surprise when I saw these lovely offspring from last year’s bumper crop of tomatoes.

(There’s still some straggly peas in there, sorry). I must have pulled out as least as many little plants to sacrifice to the gods of space as what you see freshly mulched above. I decided to keep these guys because, other than Sun Golds, none of my tomato seedlings are turning out well. And by that I mean I transplanted them into large containers over a month ago and they’re still not any bigger than two inches tall.

So this little life lesson is teaching me to be thankful for what I get. Even if I have no idea what types of tomatoes these guys will end up to be. They will still be juicy and delicious and full of seeds for next year’s crop of mistakes.

What’s a garden post without a victory garden update? Drumroll please…

Now we’re cooking with gas. Told you I had a bumper crop of peas. With one pack of snow peas and half a pack of snap peas, I racked in pounds and pounds of the darn things. This also doesn’t count what I randomly munched on before I got inside to the scale, or the ones I missed picking and found while ripping the fading pea plants out.

You can see that the ridiculously hot weather we had this spring did not really help my greens out much. Same thing with the shiitakes (we have a mushroom log, which is fan-freaking-tastic) – we had four giant ones pop out at once, and then nothing, because it’s been so hot.

Things that still look reasonably good in my yard include – the bean teepee (I wanted to do more than one but I ran out of steam), the Parisian pickling cucumbers, dill, creeping thyme, mint, chives, zucchini, onions, garlic, tomatoes, lemongrass. I planted pumpkin seeds but haven’t seen any vines pop up yet, and I didn’t get to a bunch of seeds that I wanted to. But hey, there’s always next year.

Doyle’s response.

I just realized I have been remiss in posting Congressman Mike Doyle‘s response to my request to maintain food stamp assistance in the Farm Bill (which was passed in the Senate today, in case you’re wondering). Doyle and I are firmly in the same camp on this issue, which is probably why I received both an email and an actual letter in the mail about this (the text was the same). Still no response from Toomey.

Thank you for contacting me in support of the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP).  I am glad we agree on this important issue. I am grateful that you took the time to write to me, and I welcome the opportunity to respond.

Like you, I strongly believe that it is our duty as a society to care for those less fortunate than ourselves, and SNAP plays a big role in providing this help. In the fiscal year 2011, SNAP helped around 44.7 million people, about half of whom were children. As families across the country continue to rebuild, SNAP has been there to assist those families hardest hit and keep them out of extreme poverty.

Unfortunately, a war is being waged on such social safety net programs. Just as people need food stamps more, the Republicans’ proposed budget seeks to cut funding for SNAP by $133 billion and tighten the eligibility requirements.

I voted against this proposed budget, but unfortunately it did pass the House. Luckily, it will be dead on arrival in the Democrat controlled Senate, and, because a budget has to pass both the Senate and the House in order to become law, we can be relatively certain that these draconian cuts won’t survive. Please be assured that I will continue to work with my colleagues here in the House to protect SNAP and other programs like it.

Again, thank you for contacting me in support of SNAP.  Please do not hesitate to contact me if I may ever be of assistance in the future.

Sincerely,

Mike Doyle

Member of Congress

holy peas, batman!

I’ve gotten over three pounds of snap and snow peas out of my garden in the past three weeks. My trellises are groaning. I’m in heaven. Peas and beans were by far my favorite veggies to snitch from the garden when I was a kid. My kids, not so much. More for me! I’ve been snitching for days, and feeling quite self-righteous when I do, thankyouverymuch.

(Once I make it to the grocery store to price peas I’ll do the math.)

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Yes, I know that’s only three ounces. I’ve picked a lot more since then.

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Good stuff from the garden, on its way to a pasta salad for a foodie party. Spinach, red onion, peas, garlic scapes, thyme, oregano, and shiitake mushrooms.

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Thanks, domestic goddess turned convicted felon, for giving me the idea to blanch the peas in with the noodles right before they finished cooking.

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The finished product. Added some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and stinky cheese, and I was good to go.

Note: the only thing I bought specifically for this spring salad was the pasta. I had everything else (yes, even the stinky cheese) in my kitchen, or I had plucked it from the garden. This, my friends, is one of the reasons why I grow things.