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Zucchini Tots -- The Diner Booth Where Honest Conversations Happen

October 2037. We're five games in. Three wins, two losses. Both losses were close — one in overtime, one on a special teams error in the final minute that I've watched eleven times and still can't fully account for. This is the most human part of coaching: accepting that some games end not because the other team was better but because something small and unpredictable broke wrong and there's no algorithm that prevents that. You prepare as hard as you can. You still lose sometimes.

The new seniors are a different cohort than last year's — less talented individually but more cohesive. They play together better than they play alone. This is a type of team that wins games it shouldn't and loses games it shouldn't, and the season reflects that. I'm at peace with it. I've had fifteen seasons that made a lot of sense and I've had five that didn't, and I've learned things in the five that I couldn't learn in the fifteen.

Marco came to our third game and we talked afterward at a diner near the school. He's through his first full year as a head coach and he has that look now — the look I recognize because I had it after my first season: part exhaustion, part revelation, part permanent revision of everything you thought you understood about leading people. He said: it's different when it's all yours. I said: yes. He said: how long did it take before you trusted your instincts? I said: four or five seasons. He made a face. I said: sorry. He said: no, I asked.

I didn't tell him this is my last season. I'll tell him after. I want him to experience it without the weight of knowing.

After Marco and I wrapped up at that diner, I kept thinking about the food — nothing fancy, just the kind of honest, unpretentious stuff you order when you’re too tired for decisions and the conversation matters more than the menu. Zucchini tots are exactly that: simple, a little crispy, something you reach for without thinking too hard. I’ve made them a few times this season on quiet Sunday nights when I’m reviewing film and don’t want to cook a real meal, and they’ve become part of the rhythm of these final months without me even planning for it.

Zucchini Tots

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 medium zucchini (about 1 lb total)
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1 large egg, beaten
  • 1/3 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
  • 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1/3 cup plain breadcrumbs
  • 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • Cooking spray or olive oil, for the pan

Instructions

  1. Prep the zucchini. Grate the zucchini using a box grater. Transfer to a clean kitchen towel or several layers of cheesecloth, sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt, and let sit for 5 minutes. Wring out as much moisture as possible — this step is critical for crispy tots.
  2. Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Lightly grease a baking sheet with cooking spray or a thin coat of olive oil.
  3. Mix the mixture. In a large bowl, combine the drained zucchini, beaten egg, cheddar, Parmesan, breadcrumbs, garlic powder, onion powder, and black pepper. Stir until everything is evenly combined.
  4. Shape the tots. Scoop about 1 tablespoon of the mixture and form into a small oval or cylinder shape with your hands. Place on the prepared baking sheet. Repeat with remaining mixture, spacing tots about 1 inch apart.
  5. Bake. Bake for 18—22 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the tots are golden brown and crispy on the outside.
  6. Serve. Let cool for 2 minutes before serving. Serve with sour cream, marinara, or your dipping sauce of choice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 130 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 310mg

Carlos Medina
About the cook who shared this
Carlos Medina
Week 366 of Carlos’s 30-year story · Denver, Colorado
Carlos is a high school football coach and married father of four in Denver whose family has been in New Mexico since before the Mayflower landed. He grew up on his grandmother's green chile — roasted over an open flame, the smell thick enough to stop traffic — and he puts it on everything. Eggs, burgers, pizza, ice cream once on a dare. His cooking is hearty, New Mexican, and built to feed a team. Literally.

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