GAD-ZUKES

A tale told not well, but far too often

            As gardeners, Sean and I were, to say the least, enthusiastic. Having not yet acquired any recognition of the concept of simple abundance, we seem to have lived in a world where at any moment there might not be “enough.” So, at one point, we had in our residential backyard nine kinds of tomatoes, three kinds of chard, three kinds of onions, five kinds of lettuce, cucumbers, four kinds of radishes, turnips, pink-eyed purple hull peas, black-eyed peas, green beans, seven kinds of peppers, artichokes, watermelons, cantaloupes, yellow squash and zucchini. Somewhere up front was an herb garden, too. And then there were the volunteers that grew near the compost piles.  We were nuts. Still are. And to this day, I look at zucchini with anticipation and hesitance. Love the first ones. Sick of the last ones. This, then is the tale best called “Gad-ZUKES!”

            Ahh, zucchini. That glorious, messy, profligate producer of thorns, leaves and simple abundance. Again owing to our fears that good enough was not good enough, we lived in a state of heightened alert for any signs of squash vine borers. These are ingenious creatures that do indeed bore a hole into the side of a squash vine and then destroy the vine which leads to the demise of leaves, blossoms and any growing fruits of OUR labors. So, we listened to a radio gardening guru and Sean erected a domed covering to protect our burgeoning babies. The goal: KEEP THE BUGS OUT! The result: THE BUGS STAYED OUT. Even the ones we needed for pollinating!

            So, the covering stayed on. And each morning Sean would go outside, raise the covers and POLLINATE the squash. At times, our garden looked like a high school dance: 15 eager and ready males and not a receptive female to be seen. Other times, it seemed more like a dance at retirement community, where a lone male would be pressed into serving a dozen females. I still have moments of thought when I ponder about the true meaning of the zeal and glee and utter intensity with which Sean went about this routine. And then, slowly, I recall, it WAS a routine and Sean takes to routines like a squash vine borer takes to... well, you get it.

            The result of all this fussing and tending and pollinating was the same each year: A glorious bounty of squash. I love squash, so this is a fine moment, this time of harvesting just enough for a meal. But then the damned things just kept coming…and coming… and coming. Not the yellows so much as the zukes.

            The covering was destroyed by a storm in its fourth season of use, and I never put it back up. Let the borers come. The tortoise and the rabbit had their fill. We had ours, too. The neighbors took to locking their car doors lest we leave zucchini on their front seats in the pre-dawn hours. It was crazy!

            A sign I once saw said “When life hands you lemons, sell them at a profit.”  Son Max actually suggested we allow him to have a zucchini stand in the front yard. We convinced our enterprising boy that folks probably wouldn’t pay for something we were begging them to take from us. So, that took us to that other thought of what to do when life hands out lemons. Since I’m seeing a bunch of zucchini at the farmers’ markets this time of year, I thought I’d share a couple of recipes that helped us maintain sanity in the summer of the squash.

            Enjoy!

Mock-Apple cobbler

I’m not a big fan of sweets, but Sean is, so I figured making dessert from the bounty at hand (and not telling him, of course!) was right up my alley. I’ve also been known to take this to potlucks and not reveal the star player until pressed. I’m sorry I don’t remember where I found this recipe because I’d give credit where it’s due.

Ingredients

FILLING:

• 8 cups chopped seeded peeled zucchini (about 3 pounds)
• 2/3 cup lemon juice
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

CRUST:

• 4 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 cups sugar
• 1-1/2 cups cold butter, cubed
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions

We prefer a pie crust kind of crust for cobblers, but this one needs to be the crumble type because part of the crust goes in with the zucchini to help thicken it up. 

Cook zucchini and lemon juice in large sauce pan over medium heat until the zukes are tender, about 15-20 minutes. Stir your mixture to keep it from sticking.  Add the sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg; simmer another minute and take it off the heat.

For crust, combine the flour and sugar in a bowl; cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.  – IF you want super-fast and have someone else to clean up after you, use your food processor for this: A few quick pulses and you’re done. Just don’t get crazy. You’re shooting for crumbly, flour-coated, buttery, sugar love, not a solid mass.

Stir 1/2 cup into zucchini mixture. 

Press half of remaining crust mixture into a greased 15-in. x 10-in. x 1-in. baking pan. Spread zucchini over top; crumble remaining crust mixture over zucchini. Sprinkle with cinnamon.

Bake at 375° for 35-40 minutes or until golden and bubbly. Let rest for a few minutes before digging in.

NOT SO CRABBY CAKES

I DO admit to loving seafood but have a bit of an aversion to eating things that swim if there’s no water to be found. It’s a quirk I practiced all those years living in the Arizona desert.

Ingredients

• 2 1/2 cups grated zucchini
• 1 egg, beaten
• 2 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1 cup bread crumbs
• 1/4 cup minced shallot  or onion, if that’s what you’ve got handy
• 1 teaspoon seafood seasoning
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil for frying

In a large bowl, combine the zucchini, eggs and butter. If you feel compelled for any reason to use margarine, STOP IT! You are worth 2 TBS of real butter. Stir in bread crumbs, minced shallot and seafood seasoning. Mix well.

Shape mixture into patties about the size of the palm of my hand. Assuming you’re not exceptionally large or small, your palm could also be an effective measuring tool. Just don’t make them too big or too thick. (If what you make is bigger than your turner/spatula, you might have trouble flipping your cakes.)

Dredge the patties in flour then fry them up in a skillet of medium-hot oil. Get ‘em good and golden. Serve hot and crispy. 

 My granny made a “secret” sauce for dipping fried fish and the like in, and it’s still a family favorite. If I tell you, you have to promise not to let my mom know I gave up the goods. Deal? Deal!  {Granny’s secret sauce: Mix equal parts Miracle Whip with ketchup.}  Remember, mum’s the word.