The other day, I grated two enormous zucchini into a bowl containing a quarter-can of pumpkin, brown sugar, cocoa powder and enough chopped bittersweet chocolate to make the whole operation look suspiciously like brownie batter. Which, essentially, it was. The zucchini disappeared almost immediately, leaving behind only a few green flecks and the vague knowledge that somewhere beneath all that chocolate was a respectable amount of produce.
In Chicago, we have a phrase for what happens to a hot dog after it has been loaded with tomatoes, onions, peppers and pickle: it’s been “dragged through the garden.” I had, apparently, dragged my brownies through the garden.
