After a full work weekend, my friend Nancy asked me what I was going to now do for fun.
“Blanche and freeze zucchini,” I answered.
“Whoo-hoo!” she responded, laughing.
I don’t feel like I have a choice. They’re pummeling me every time I walk through the garden, pulsing out of the plants night and day. I can’t keep up with them. I’ll pick a batch one evening, and the next morning Bill tells me he sees more ready to be harvested. I’ve become a slave to my zucchini plants.
This summer started off cool and then the rains began, continuing every afternoon. Great, I thought, until I started noticing the plants remaining small, apparently missing their regular dose of sunshine.
For example, I still don’t have eggplants. By now we’ve usually been grilling those every evening and happily mixing them with zucchini for ratatouille. Even our varieties of pepper plants are only just now becoming ready to harvest, hopefully to soon take salsa-making off the hold list.
And the tomatoes, finally, are turning. I’ve come to expect this in Colorado, clumps of fat, green tomatoes on the vine for weeks, slowly dispelling my memories of juicy, red ones ready in Texas in early July at the latest.
But here, fresh lettuce and sweet strawberries whet our appetite early, and then the lull stretches out as we wait for any more garden goodies, and this year it’s been one long lull.
The zucchini, however, sneaked up on us. One day the tiny plants were sitting unobtrusively on their mounds and the next day I swear the leaves were like patio umbrellas and the zucchini as big as baseball bats. Walking through the garden feels a bit treacherous, with scenes from a potential horror flic “The Revenge of the Zucchini” popping up in my head.
So we stuff these babies, steam them, fry a few (including the blossoms), and bake it in bread and quiche, and I could still use some different recipes (got any?). Last year we got a small freezer, so we’re taking the time to “put some up” as my granny used to say, blanching and freezing. This is hard work even with a food processor to slice them up before dipping them in the boiling water and then scooping the pieces out to toss in a sink full of ice water. The assembly line starts in the garden with the plants rolling out the produce, eventually ending in the oven when something delicious has been created. Often I must remind myself something tasty will come out of all the labor.
Bill thought he’d improve the freezing process this year and avoid the freezer burn we noticed from last year’s crop, so he bought a machine that vacuums and seals bags. Only after two long evenings of blanching and bagging we still haven’t been successful at getting the darn thing to seal our piles of veggies, feeling like further evidence of revenge of the zucchini.
Like with everything else, I remind myself to stop, take a deep breath, and alter my perspective. The zucchini is not out to get me. My garden, of course, is doing just what I want it to do, produce! What a lovely opportunity the garden always provides to give fresh veggies away. And best of all, even if we’re struggling with some new cantankerous kitchen gadget, the times when Bill and I are bumping around together in the kitchen often turn into some of our favorite memories and good laughs for long winter evenings when we reminisce about last summer’s garden.
