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Zucchini & Squash
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North Country Food Book page
Recently a friend asked me "Do you want an example of North Country crime?" Then, without waiting for my reply, he said: "You've got to be careful in October. If you leave your car trunk unlocked you are liable to come back and find the trunk full of zucchini."Ruth A. Cassin Squashed by the SquashBy Neal Burdick Last spring, with the kids grown up and gone and our backs going, we decided to downsize our garden. We went from five 8x8 raised beds to one 8x24 plot. In it we planted marigolds because we were told they help fend off deer, green beans, peppers (some of which were supposed to be bell but turned out to be chili of some indefinable lineage), four tomato plants, the requisite zucchini - and a couple of innocent-looking butternut squash seeds in a modest hill. Add to this our perennial rhubarb and sketchy asparagus beds, and we thought we'd have a respectable and tidy village garden. As the summer progressed, so did our garden, more or less on schedule. The squash vines, though, were a little too enthusiastic, and we had to keep training them to wrap around this and that and trimming them back. We put up a fence to keep the deer at bay, and when the squash vines climbed the fence in an apparent sacrificial offering to the critters, we let them stay there. The deer obligingly kept them nipped back to the fence line and left everything else alone. We pretended we'd planned it that way back in raw, heartbreaking March. Then we went away for a few days in August, and when we came back, the vines had lost all sense of decorum. They'd insinuated themselves in amongst the bean plants. They'd ascended the pepper plants for a better view. And they'd hauled themselves up the tomato cages and overwhelmed the tomatoes, slapping them down with leaves the size of tennis rackets. Could we have straightened all that vine, we imagined it might reach to the county line--and that's saying a lot, given that we live in the center of the biggest county in the state (though not the biggest one east of wherever, as many people mistakenly insist). We named the insidious network "Audrey II" in honor of the voracious greenery in the musical "Little Shop of Horrors." We harvested what pittance from the conquered plants that we could, threw in the trowel and prayed for blessed frost. What lessons have we taken away from this?
And how many squashes did we get out of all those miles of malicious, imperialistic vine? Three, one of which was hollow, much like my gardening skills.
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Zucchini Tomato Salad