Ricotta-Stuffed Zucchini Boats

I believe dinner should feel like a small, defiant party even on a Tuesday. Also I believe zucchinis are tired of being relegated to sad spiralized salads and deserve better (fight me, but gently). And yes, if you want to imagine perfect summer evenings, these Ricotta-Stuffed Zucchini Boats are exactly that — comforting, slightly humble, and somehow borderline celebratory. If you need a palate-pleasing side that doesn’t require emotional labor, this is it. Also, if you’re into grilled summer veg, you might vibe with this riff similar to my take on grilled zucchini bliss with steak, but quieter and more domestic.

How I totally embarrassed myself in the kitchen once (and probably again)

I once tried these and managed to create a zucchini-steamed-flop situation. The kitchen smelled like wet paper towels and regret (do you know that specific smell when you overcook garlic? It’s tragic). The filling had the texture of ricotta glue — which, turns out, is a thing if you forget to salt and then over-stir because you panic. There was a sound — like tiny wet plops as the tomato juices escaped and made sad little puddles on the baking sheet. I cried? No. I sighed dramatically. Maybe I muttered curse words that are specific to Midwest kitchens. Also, I learned that scooping out seeds with a spoon is a very public act of vulnerability; if you’ve ever tried to be delicate and ended up gouging like a mad sculptor, I feel you. The embarrassment lingered (and then I made them again because of course I did — you don’t quit zucchini).

What finally made these actually worth praising (for real this time)

Turns out the difference between disaster and delight was mostly three things: timing, restraint, and better garlic choices. Emotionally I stopped treating ricotta like a stand-in for bravery and started treating it like a partner. Practically, I stopped overmixing (hello, airy blobs of nothing) and tolerated a LITTLE moisture from the tomatoes because moisture = character. Also, I learned to trust a 25–30 minute bake — patience! — and to let the cheese get bubbly instead of nuclear. This version of the ricotta-stuffed zucchini boats feels like someone finally listened to the zucchini and to me (I am suspicious of my own confidence; I may change my mind tomorrow).

What goes in these (please don’t judge my shopping list)

• 4 medium zucchinis
• 1 cup ricotta cheese
• 1 cup cherry tomatoes, diced
• 1 cup spinach, chopped
• 1/2 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Olive oil, for drizzling
• Fresh basil, for garnish

budget, texture, availability (I buy the ricotta in the big tub and regret nothing; swap fresh basil for parsley if your grocery is out — also: frozen spinach is a fine reality cheat sometimes)

Cooking Unit Converter

If you like measuring things as obsessively as I do (and also sometimes guessing), use the handy converter below to switch cups to grams or whatever makes you feel in control.

How to make them (but I will interrupt you a lot)

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).
2. Cut the zucchinis in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds to create boats.
3. In a bowl, combine ricotta cheese, diced cherry tomatoes, chopped spinach, mozzarella cheese, Parmesan cheese, garlic, salt, and pepper.
4. Fill each zucchini boat with the ricotta mixture.
5. Place the stuffed zucchinis on a baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil.
6. Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until the zucchini is tender and the cheese is bubbly.
7. Garnish with fresh basil before serving.

Also: don’t be afraid to press the filling in so it won’t slide out like it’s trying to escape your culinary choices. If your zucchini is enormous, trim it down — proportion matters. And if your oven is louder than your roommate, maybe rotate the pan halfway through. THESE ARE DETAILS, yes, but also not everything needs to be precise to be perfect. If you want fancy, broil for 1–2 minutes at the end, but watch it like a hawk because fireworks are dramatic and then ruined.

Are you human, or a small dinner party? Let’s talk like friends

Do you ever look at a grocery aisle and feel judged for buying four zucchinis like you’re preparing for a commune? Who am I even feeding — myself, but also emotionally? Have you tried stuffing vegetables and felt like a genius for five minutes and then terrified everyone won’t like it? Tell me about your weirdest kitchen triumphs. Also, who else serves this and then hides the casserole dish because it’s theirs now? I assume we all do this. Is that normal? (I hope so.)

Common questions people ask when they overthink vegetables

I’m glad we made something that’s soft and a little messy and, yes, reliable — like a friend who shows up with a toolbox and a really good pie. Sometimes I over-explain things (hello, therapy and blogs) and sometimes I leave sentences hanging like laundry mid-air because I got distracted by a memory of my grandmother’s garden and how zucchini used to appear like an unexpected guest. Also, note to self: buy more basil. Wait — did I lock the oven?