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.
