Zucchini: No Respect

Zucchini is the Rodney Dangerfield of the vegetable word. If a zucchini could talk, he would tell you, “no respect, I don’t get no respect.”

Alaska is a rich breeding ground for growing giant zucchini due to its rich soil that has been virtually untouched by modern chemicals used in farming in the lower 48 states. And 24 hours of summer sun for two months certainly speeds up the growing cycle.

Mr. Evans has developed a concoction that he advertises as ‘Alaska Bounty’ which he sells in ‘Brewing Kits.’ Think of it as a heady cocktail of natural nutrients -- a sort of steroid for athletic zucchini training for the 2004 Summer Olympics.

Tracking down the current world-record zucchini is no easy task, however. Many people claim to have grown the big one. In addition to Mr. Evans, the British claim to have grown a 64 pound, 8 ounce zucchini in 1990.

But the real truth isn’t in the size of the vegetable, but how you use it…so to speak. Just because a zucchini is giant doesn’t mean it is flavorful. Small and tender zucchini produce the best results in the kitchen, although zucchini hasn’t always found a lot of respect in the kitchen. All too often it’s used in cooking just to get rid of it.

Witness this item in my local newspaper listing the “Senior Meal” last Friday at the Opportunity Presbyterian Church:

“Meatloaf, green bean casserole, zucchini and tomatoes, breadstick and fruited gelatin.”

Imagine, a cafeteria-style chafing dish sitting for hours over a steam bath and holding forth limp zucchini and watery tomato guck. I can hardly wait for my retirement.

If for no other reason, zucchini should be appreciated because of the labor involved in bringing it to market.

I imagine the methods of harvesting zucchini are pretty advanced today, but in the early 1970’s, ‘picking’ zucchini was anything but modern.

Mr. Francis Cooper was one of my junior high school teachers. Mr. Cooper taught ‘woodshop and industrial arts’ for boys, teaching us how to make footstools and stamp out leather change purses, while the girls were in the home economics kitchen baking cakes. Since teaching was only a 9-month occupation, Mr. Cooper spent the months of June, July and August farming. One of his best crops was zucchini.

One summer Mr. Cooper recruited some of his students to help him haul in the zucchini. At the time I thought I was lucky to be in that bunch of kids, but after a few back-breaking days of cutting zucchini for a few dollars in pay, I wasn’t so sure. Cutting zucchini is dirty, hard work.

Mr. Cooper held the best position -- the seat on the Massey-Ferguson tractor that pulled three huge, wooden crates. As he lurched the tractor forward at a steady, slow pace, about six or eight of us, (the number depended on who showed up that morning), would trail immediately behind, knives in hand. Our job was to whack the zucchini off right at the base of the vine, then throw the zucchini up so it would land in one of the crates.

The correct position was to stoop over at the waist, steady yourself with one hand while you wielded the knife in the other hand. You never looked up; you cut and threw, cut and threw, cut and threw. By the end of the day you were frozen into that stooped position.

We didn’t have time to sort the zucchini by size, that would be taken care of at the canning company. After harvesting, the zucchini was trucked over to the co-op to be washed, cut and then frozen in huge plastic lined bins. None of the zucchini was sold fresh direct to markets.

In mid-winter, after all of the harvests were in, the zucchini was pulled out of the deep-freeze and ‘re-packed’ into small bags or boxes and sold as ‘Mediterranean Vegetable Mix.’ (A fancy way to say good vegetables that are frozen for months, then hauled out, chopped up and mixed together with carrots and cauliflower and sold as something deliciously Italian). No respect.

I suppose my Mother and Father felt that cutting zucchini would teach me the ethics of hard work, and it probably did over time. But the grimy job of cutting zucchini that summer certainly didn’t give me a greater respect for it.

While zucchini may not find much respect in the outside world, to those of us in the world of food and cooking, the zucchini is every bit as admired as the ripest, striped-tiger heirloom tomato or the sweetest September peach.

The zucchini is a member of the summer squash family. Summer squashes are harvested before their outer rind begins to harden. Other popular summer squashes are the patty pan, crookneck or yellow zucchini.

Winter squashes are harvested after the outer rind has hardened into a shell. Popular winter squashes are the acorn, butternut and spaghetti variety.

Archaeologists have traced the origins of squash to the Americas where they were harvested as early as 7000b.c. Along with corn, squash was an important part of the diet.

Explorers to the Americas brought squash back to Europe. The zucchini landed in Italy, where it was named the zucchino. Thus, our modern association with the zucchini being an Italian native. (Except in parts of the rest of Europe, where it is known as the courgette.)

The zucchini then journeyed across the Atlantic and back to America where it landed in New England. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, early culinarians in their own right, both grew zucchini on their estates. The colonists respected zucchini because they could use it fresh in the summer and preserve and can it for the winter.

Zucchini grows well in almost any type of soil as long as it gets plenty of direct sunshine and a good amount of water. The growing season begins as early as May in some parts of the country, and can last well into the first part of October when the most popular member of the squash family, the pumpkin, takes center stage.

The snooty ‘Larousse Gastronomique’ French culinary dictionary sniffs its nose at zucchini with this quote: “they tend to be rather insipid when boiled, and it is best to enhance their flavour by serving them with a béchamel flavoured sauce with nutmeg or with a curry sauce.” Right, drown a zucchini in a thick sauce or spicy curry so you don’t taste it, that’s the ticket. No respect.

One of the best-known zucchini dishes is ratatouille, (ra-ta-too-eee). Ratatouille hails from the southern French city of Nice, and is literally a vegetable stew or ragout. It is traditionally made with products that are linked to the Mediterranean; zucchini, onions, eggplant, sweet red peppers, tomatoes, olive oil and herbes de Provence.

A versatile vegetable, zucchini can be used raw in salads or sliced, marinated in olive oil and grilled on the barbecue alongside a whole sea bass. Zucchini blossoms are popular when stuffed with goat cheese and deep-fried and zucchini can be baked in bread or baked au gratin. The possibilities are endless.

Whatever you call it, however you cook it, the zucchini endures, with or without respect.

As I walked out of the house this morning, I looked down to my right and I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. It was a small but healthy plant with large, dark green leaves jutting out the ends of thick stalks. There were three small, delicate blossoms with bright yellow petals radiating upwards. It was, to my amazement, a new zucchini plant!

Earlier this year I had put some starter seeds in tiny clay pots in my kitchen window. After a few weeks with no sign of life poking through the soil, I chucked the whole lot off the back porch, resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t be growing my own vegetables this summer.

And there it was, the zucchini seeds that I had not respected had grown into a natural beauty. What a fitting end to summer. The vegetable of no respect had literally come to life in my own backyard. Then and there I vowed to show the utmost respect for the zucchini.

Sweet and Sour Black Cod with
Zucchini ‘Pasta’ Primavera

Baked Eggs Florentine with ‘Zucchino’