Triumphs and traumas of daily life in the suburban hinterland of a Thames-side village.
Saturday, 28 July 2012
Courgette fatigue
I must say in my defence that I have no axe to grind with the humble courgette, but, let's face it, you wouldn't describe it as vegetable royalty, would you? Well, I wouldn't, anyway.
As usual, I seem to have landed in France in peak courgette season..
My neighbours, who are lovely people and who look after me and my family with the greatest kindness at all times, are currently providing me with a seemingly unending supply of the French national seasonal vegetable. The main trouble is that I am now alone. Alone, that is, except for the company of about five kilos of courgettes. In fact, this morning when I surfaced after an evening of patriotic fervour, having bravely stayed awake until 2a.m. To watch the entire Olympic opening ceremony, it was to discover that another three giant specimens had been left on the table outside, along with about half my body weight of green beans. I like green beans, but I rarely consume them in quite such substantial quantities, especially when all alone.
To add insult to injury, I was just wondering how to transform this surfeit of vegetables into something interesting for dinner when the phone rang, and my friend Karine asked if I would like to pop round for dinner with her. She had cooked a chicken, and her neighbours were bringing some vegetables to have with it (so no opening there for me to volunteer to provide a courgette-and-bean based offering). I dismissed any thoughts of knocking up a courgette mise en bouche and offered to bring the wine, heaving a quiet sigh as I realised that I'd have to leave the courgette dilemma pending until tomorrow...
I arrived at Karine's house a little later, just as her neighbour was putting the finishing touches to the vegetables on the hob. Courgettes. It was courgettes.
I may have to grate a few into my breakfast muesli if I want to make any impression on my stockpile. I just hope I can find a solution before the next lot arrive....
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First courgettes.
ReplyDeleteThe French have never heard of Elizabeth David and consume them when - to me - they are mini marrows.
I was lucky. I had a friend who bottled them....visions of her sous sol like Dr. Caglairi's cabinet, the veg grinning from their Kilner jars.
I have a sort of recipe for courgette pate...saute in butter, mix with hard boiled egg and whatever herb takes your fancy.
Quite good twice a year.
Otherwise dig large hole...
Green beans...easy peasy.
Sweat off onion, add chopped beans, chicken stock and tomatoes. Blend and sieve, add cumin.
Freezes well....but in that case don't add the cumin until serving.
I always used to put spare veg out on a table by the roadside in the U.K.
In France my neighbour warned me not to do this if I didn't want to be denounced to the taxman.
I asked the taxman.
He said yes. If denounced they would 'make an investigion'.
Hello:
ReplyDeleteMuch as we do like courgettes, especially when stuffed or as a component of ratatouille, one can have too much of a good thing. Especially when the courgette is really a marrow by another name!!!
Compost heap comes immediately to mind!!!
This had me grinning reminiscently, CB. There's only so much chutney one can consume and even ratatouille palls after a while. One can make marrow jam, so would courgettes work too? Oh, and I think thee's a recipe for courgette cake floating around t'internet too. :-)
ReplyDeleteBeans I would freeze as they are, but Fly's recipe sounds like a much better idea.
Thank you all, Fly, Jane and Lance, Perpetua, for the sympathy, empathy, recipes and disposal suggestions! I will, I am sure, try them ALL! I seem to have lost the facility to reply individually, at least for the moment, so please excuse the blanket response. Perhaps I could send you each a gift wrapped vegetable by way of apology?
ReplyDeleteOdd, CB. I can certainly reply to you individually. Perhaps Blogger was having a Sunday off. :-)
DeleteSend a courgette to Costa Rica and the customs will have a field day....
Delete