Zucchini Potato Torte

February. Cold. The kind of cold that makes the windows fog with the heat from the stove, which means the kitchen is working properly and the world outside can do what it wants. Inside is soup. Inside is Marvin in his recliner. Inside is the particular warmth of a house that is being held together by cooking and will and the refusal to let go.

Marvin had a good week. Good weeks still exist. They are not the majority anymore — the majority is neutral, neither good nor bad, the hum of managed decline — but good weeks still break through like sunlight through clouds, and when they do, I hold them the way you hold water in your palms: carefully, knowing it will slip through, savoring the feel of it while it lasts.

On Wednesday he made a joke. A new joke — not one of the recycled standards, not the Hanukkah joke or the brisket joke, but a new one, spontaneous, born in the moment. I was complaining about a student's essay, and Marvin said, "Maybe the essay has Alzheimer's. It keeps forgetting its thesis statement." I stared at him. He stared back. And then we both laughed — hard, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water, the kind of laugh that is also, secretly, a sob, because the joke was funny and the joke was about the disease and the disease is the thing that is taking the man who makes the jokes, and the fact that he can still joke about it is either courage or defiance or the last flicker of the thing I love most about him.

I made beef stew. Simple. Comforting. The kind of stew that takes three hours and fills the house with a smell that says: someone lives here. Someone cares. The meat was chuck, browned in batches. The vegetables were carrots, potatoes, onion, celery. The liquid was stock and red wine. The secret — Sylvia's secret — was a tablespoon of tomato paste, added early, darkening the stew with a depth of flavor that cannot be achieved any other way. The tomato paste is the subtext. You don't taste it directly. You taste what it does to everything around it. This is what good writing does, too. The best sentences are the ones you don't notice because they're too busy making everything else better.

Marvin ate two bowls. He said, "This is the best stew you've ever made." The weekly declaration. I smiled. He smiled. The good week continued. Tomorrow it may end. Today it holds.

I’ve been asked more than once to share the beef stew from that Wednesday — the one Sylvia taught me, with the tablespoon of tomato paste that does its quiet work in the background. I’ll get there. But the dish I keep returning to on the weeks that follow good ones, the weeks when I need something that requires attention and layers and patience, is this zucchini potato torte. It asks you to be present while you make it, and right now, being present is the whole point.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/8-inch thin
2 medium zucchini, sliced 1/8-inch thin
1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
3/4 cup shredded Gruyère or sharp white cheddar, divided
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup heavy cream

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9-inch round or square baking dish with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil.
Sweat the onion. In a skillet over medium heat, warm 1 tablespoon olive oil. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 8 minutes. Add garlic and thyme and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat.
Make the custard. In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs and heavy cream. Season with salt and pepper and set aside.
Layer the torte. Arrange half the potato slices in overlapping layers in the prepared dish. Season lightly with salt. Spread half the softened onion mixture over the potatoes. Layer all the zucchini slices on top, followed by the remaining onion. Scatter half the Parmesan and half the Gruyère over the vegetables. Finish with the remaining potato slices in an even layer.
Add custard and cheese. Pour the egg and cream mixture evenly over the top of the torte. Drizzle with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil. Sprinkle the remaining Parmesan and Gruyère over the surface.
Bake covered. Cover tightly with foil and bake for 35 minutes, until the potatoes are nearly tender when pierced with a knife.
Brown the top. Remove foil and bake an additional 18—20 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling at the edges. Let rest 10 minutes before slicing and serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Zucchini Potato Torte — The Vegetables That Hold Everything Together