Bring me your piles of green

3 thoughts on “Bring me your piles of green”

  1. Bees? I think we had that problem when we lived in MI. No pollination.

    Regardless of the reason why, I am sorry about your lack of les courgettes. I, too, love them–especially sauteed, with a yogurt-dill-garlic-cayenne sauce on top (via Deborah Madison). Yum.

    Like

  2. When I was little, they were unknown in England. Instead we had marrows, which were exactly the same thing but just allowed to grow to a ridiculous size and become almost inedible, heaven only knows why, since they are so prolific and so much better eaten small. Courgettes were foreign and suspect, I suppose!

    I heard that somewhere, I think it might have been Salt Lake City, you are warned never to leave your car unlocked overnight during the zucchini season, as when you return to it in the morning it will be stuffed full of zucchini!

    All squash plants have such beautiful form and flowers too, I think. You can even eat those, of course, but I must say I’ve never tried.

    Like

  3. Location, location, location. Once thought of as merely a–the–variable in the real estate biz, it is now apparently insinuated itself into “the zucchini situation.” The Farmers’ Markets up in the 3/4ths-of-the-Way-to-Fargo growing zone have been well-stocked with greens and yellows; little cute ones and ones that we refer to as Ethel Mermans (okay, we really don’t call them that, but how does one describe zucchini that is larger than life?). Going price: 25 cents at some stands; 20 at others. If I’d only known, I would’ve sent a boxful with the Thorson Memorial Kids taking the Julia Gillian tour.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s