The Zucchini Bread Recipe I Make All Summer Long

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Every August, the garden hands me more zucchini than any two people should reasonably eat. One day a squash is the size of my thumb, and I tell myself I will pick it tomorrow. Then I get busy with Lochlan, or I lie down for an hour because my body asks me to, and by the time I remember, it has turned into something closer to a baseball bat. So I do what my grandmother did, and what her mother probably did before her. I grate it up and bake it into bread.

This is the zucchini bread recipe I come back to every single summer. It is moist without being wet, sweet without being a cake, and it uses up a shameful amount of squash in one go. I make it from scratch in one bowl, usually with a baby on my hip and Dewey lying across my feet in the kitchen, hoping something falls. If you have never baked a loaf of quick bread in your life, this is a good place to start.

Why zucchini bread is the easiest thing to bake with a garden glut

Here is the honest truth about zucchini. It does not have a strong flavor of its own, which is exactly why it works so well in bread. What it brings is moisture. All that water tucked inside the shreds keeps the loaf tender for days, so you can grate up a monster squash you forgot about and no one will ever know it was on its way to being compost.

We planted our zucchini in the raised beds this spring, back when Danny and I were still arguing gently about how many hills we actually needed. He said two. I planted four. Now I stand corrected and up to my elbows in squash, which is the natural order of things with zucchini. If you are new to gardening, know that this plant is generous to a fault. One healthy plant will feed you, your neighbors, and probably a few people you have never met.

The other reason I love baking this bread is that it forgives a slow day. On mornings when my autoimmune disease has the upper hand and I am moving carefully, I can still pull this together. There is no kneading, no rising, no waiting around. You stir, you pour, you slide it in the oven, and the whole house starts to smell like cinnamon while you go sit down.

What you need for a moist zucchini bread

Nothing here is fancy. If you keep a baking cabinet at all, you probably have most of it already. Here is what goes into one loaf.

• 1 and 1/2 cups shredded zucchini, from about one medium squash
• 1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
• 1/2 cup neutral oil, like avocado or light olive oil
• 2 eggs, room temperature
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon fine salt

A quick word on the zucchini itself. You do not need to peel it. The skin is soft and it disappears into the crumb, plus it gives the bread those pretty green flecks. I grate mine on the large holes of a box grater, straight onto a clean towel. This is the one spot where technique matters, so I will come back to it in a second.

How to make it, step by step

Start by heating your oven to 350 degrees and lining a loaf pan with a strip of parchment. I let the parchment hang over the two long sides so I can lift the whole loaf out later like it is in a little hammock.

Now the zucchini. Grate it, then gather it up in a clean kitchen towel and give it a gentle squeeze over the sink. You are not trying to wring it bone dry, just coax out the excess water so the middle of your loaf actually bakes through. This is the difference between a tender bread and a gummy one, and it took me a couple of sad, sunken loaves to learn it.

In a big bowl, whisk together the oil, both sugars, eggs, and vanilla until it looks smooth and a little glossy. Stir in the squeezed zucchini. Then add the flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, and salt right on top. Fold it all together with a spatula until you no longer see dry streaks, and then stop. Overmixing is the fastest way to a dense, heavy loaf, so I mix like I am a little bored by the whole thing.

Pour the batter into your pan and smooth the top. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until a toothpick pushed into the center comes out with just a crumb or two clinging to it. If the top is browning faster than the inside is setting, lay a loose piece of foil over it for the last stretch. Let it cool in the pan for ten minutes, then lift it out onto a rack.

How we eat it, and how to keep it

Warm, the first slice always goes to me, standing at the counter, no plate. That is a homemaker rule I will not apologize for. After that, we eat it plain or with a smear of salted butter that melts right in. Danny likes his toasted the next morning with his coffee. Lochlan gets a soft little piece torn into bits on his tray, and about half of it ends up on the floor for Dewey, which I think is the arrangement they worked out between themselves.

This bread keeps beautifully. Wrapped on the counter it stays good for three or four days, and honestly it tastes even better on day two once the flavors settle. If you want to save one for later, and with a real zucchini harvest you will want to, let it cool completely, wrap it well, and freeze it. It thaws overnight on the counter and you would never guess it had been in the freezer. When my energy is low, having a loaf tucked in the freezer feels like a small gift from my past self.

That is the whole thing. A slow, forgiving bake that turns the vegetable I planted too much of into something my family actually fights over. If you are staring down your own pile of summer squash right now, wondering what on earth to do with it all, start here. Grate one up, make the mess, and let your kitchen smell like cinnamon for an afternoon. It is one of the simplest good things I know.