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Zucchini Pie — The Garden at Peak, the Bet Paid Off

Tom's eighty-first birthday. I made the German chocolate cake again — same recipe, same coconut pecan frosting, the process that takes an afternoon. Drove it over in the evening and Claire was there by video call, which they'd set up on the tablet she left in December. The three of us had birthday cake in two different states, Tom eating his piece with the particular attention he gives to food that requires a description and not just a judgment.

He read me the latest section of the mule book — a long mule named Prospector who he'd worked with on a mining claim in the early 1980s, the owner an elderly man who'd been using the mule for actual mineral prospecting in the Beartooth Range. The section captures something specific about the relationship between a working animal and the work they do — the mule understanding the terrain better than the man, Tom as the farrier working in this triangle of relationship between man and mule and mountain. It's his best writing. I told him so in the way he accepts compliments: once, directly, without repetition.

August is next week. The garden is at peak — everything in full production, more tomatoes than we can eat, the dried chiles drying on screens in the barn, the corn finally ready. This is the month of abundance, the month you made the bet for in May, and it's come in right. The bet paid off this year. Most years it does. That's why you keep making it.

Made gazpacho again — the third consecutive summer, each batch slightly better as my confidence with the ratios has grown. The heirloom tomatoes this year gave it a sweetness the earlier batches didn't quite have. Ate it cold from a jar in the barn at noon. August food. The best version of the season.

The gazpacho gets its due every August, but when the garden is producing like this — more than you can eat, more than you can give away — you need recipes that use the rest of it. The zucchini this year came in heavy, the way it does when the bet pays off, and this pie is what I made with the surplus. It’s August food too, just a different kind: warm from the oven, dense with everything the season handed over.

Zucchini Pie

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 3 cups zucchini, thinly sliced
  • 1 cup biscuit baking mix (such as Bisquick)
  • 4 large eggs, lightly beaten
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a 9-inch pie dish or a 9x13-inch baking dish.
  2. Combine the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, mix together the biscuit baking mix, Parmesan cheese, salt, pepper, and oregano.
  3. Add the wet ingredients. Stir in the beaten eggs and vegetable oil until just combined. The batter will be thick.
  4. Fold in the vegetables. Add the sliced zucchini, chopped onion, minced garlic, and parsley. Stir until the zucchini is evenly distributed throughout the batter.
  5. Pour into the prepared dish. Spread the mixture evenly and press it down gently with a spatula.
  6. Bake. Place in the oven and bake for 30–35 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
  7. Cool and serve. Let the pie rest for 10 minutes before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 23g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 480mg

Ryan Gallagher
About the cook who shared this
Ryan Gallagher
Week 331 of Ryan’s 30-year story · Billings, Montana
Ryan is a thirty-one-year-old Army veteran and ranch hand in Billings, Montana, who cooks over open fire because microwaves feel dishonest and because the quiet of a campfire is the only therapy that works for him consistently. He hunts his own elk, catches his own trout, and makes a camp stew that tastes like the mountains smell. He doesn't talk much. But his food says everything.

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