Herb Benham: Attack of the killer zucchini
| Friday, Jun 26 2009 11:17 AM
Last Updated Friday, Jun 26 2009 11:17 AM
A couple days ago, I fixed a squash medley. Medley sounded festive -- like a party with a family of colorfully dressed squashes as the honored guests.
Response to the squash medley was subdued. I fished for compliments, but the fish weren't biting. In order to hear a compliment, I would have to deliver one myself.
"This squash medley sure is good, isn't it?" I said to the person with whom I was dining.
I said it not only because I believed it but because I noticed the pile of squash medley on her plate seemed to be growing larger rather than diminishing in size.
"I like squash, but this is a tad watery," she said delicately.
Of course it's watery. That's why they call it squash rather than steak, fries or jicama.
The squash was from the raised garden in the backyard, a response to a world that seems ripe for more homespun enterprise if for no other reason than the visceral pleasure it affords. Steve Murray of Murray Farms donated railroad ties and I went to the recycling center on Mount Vernon where I landed a great deal on a truckload of mulch, rather than the compost the garden would have preferred.
In the process, I learned how recycling works. You mistakenly buy 20 wheelbarrows worth of mulch, rather than compost, and then you spend the next 10 weeks shoveling the mulch from your flowerbeds back into the green recycling containers whose chippy contents are thereby returned to Mount Vernon to be recycled again.
It borders on the biblical, or at least it did when I invoked the name of the son of God after I realized that mulch and compost were as different as bread crumbs and powdered sugar.
In addition to tomatoes, I planted three different kinds of squash -- crookneck, pattypan and zucchini. I chose crookneck because of its brilliant yellow color, pattypan because it reminded me of a children's game and zucchini for its entertainment value.
Fully grown, zucchini plants look like they could have been drawn by Paul Gauguin during his South Seas period. The leaves are big enough to house a game of hide-and-seek. Hiding underneath are the zucchini themselves, which are to the vegetable family what a Transformer is to a Chevy Camaro.
You almost can't go away for the weekend. If you do, prepare to be awed. There may be a green submarine in the garden that could rival Das Boot.
I thought nut grass grew fast, but zucchini takes on heft quicker than a large man locked in a chocolate shop. When you leave the garden for a few days it has the same effect as not fishing a high Sierra lake for five years. Upon the angler's return, the fingerlings have been replaced by lunkers clunking along the bottom.
It's easy to understand the lure of the Kern County Fair. The question becomes --when do you let the zucchini continue to grow rather than picking it for an easy-on-your-teeth squash medley or inspiration for a still-life painting?
Leave the zucchini on the vine now and by mid-September transportation to the fair will require Russ' 10-ton crane and a semi. There doesn't seem to be a limit to how big a zucchini can grow. Google had one at 65 pounds and another that was 5 feet 9 inches long.
Such fun. The joys of a summer garden. Squash medley and a potential blue ribbon to boot.
These are Herb Benham's opinions, and not necessarily The Californian's. His column appears Tuesday, Friday and Sunday. Call him at 395-7279 or write hbenham@ bakersfield.com.
