Ah, there’s nothing like the first zucchini of the season! HHH carefully plucked it from the vine with reverence, not disturbing the others. Cradled in his arms, he imagined the fresh veggie sautéed in melted butter. Pretty sure I even heard him tell it, “You’re the chosen one.” And for one fleeting, chlorophyll-scented moment, it was.
It was the first golden hour of zucchini ownership when we are still in control. With two vegetable gardens under our care, we’ll have twice the zucchini to peddle to any takers we can find. In the beginning, it’s always easy.
This zucchini, grown from a tiny little plant, was a delightful yellowish color. When sliced, the goodness oozed out in tiny beads of liquid. After melting butter, HHH worked his magic, cooking the squash until it was soft and translucent. It was the best zucchini we’ve ever eaten. But then, food fresh from the garden always is.
Leftovers here at Winterpast are something to behold. Saturday night, as we enjoyed our first garden produce, Philly Cheese steak sandwiches made with leftover filet mignon, a Parmesan-crusted pork chop split two ways, my famous Ziti, and HHH’s marvelous au gratin potatoes completed the menu. Each bite was awe-inspiring, but all that paled compared to the first zucchini of the season, which was perfect in every way.
With each bite, all the water poured into the garden box was worth it. Desert water doesn’t come cheap. After adding up the price of all the seedlings eaten by the squirrel and the price of each watering, I’d estimate the cost of this one small squash to be more than a night out on the town. But, THIS zuk was worth it.
As the fourth girl of five, my mother was done with growing zucchini during my childhood years. Although we grew everything we ate, from rabbit to artichokes, zucchini seeds never made it into the garden. Other than serving it fresh, squash is difficult to preserve. My mother must have put her foot down, refusing to find homes for the abundant harvest that would surely come in July and August.
In three short weeks, our porch will be covered with free zucchini. Anyone coming for a visit will be required to leave with at least two. Before sunrise, HHH will mutter sweet nothings to his garden plants while secreting a five-gallon bucket of oversized zucchinis to Ninja Neighbor’s porch. We’ll enjoy grilled, sautéed, pickled, and spiralized zuk’s, even disguising them in my favorite Ziti recipe.
But let’s not get too far into the summer. The first zucchini was still a miraculous, tender little promise from the garden gods that we can grow our food despite the crazy spring weather and one very hungry squirrel. Beaming with pride, we washed it under cool water while imagining our grandparents nodding with solemn approval.
Despite its inevitable descent into overabundance, the first zucchini is always special. It’s a sign that we’ve survived the frost, dodged the squash bugs, and remembered to water. It marks the true beginning of summer when dinners get simpler, gardens get wilder, and everything tastes crisp and fresh.
Honor that first zucchini. Slice it thin and lovingly sauté it in melted butter. Eat it as if it’s the only one you’ll ever have. Because next week, you’ll be Googling “Can zucchini be used as payment for our next vacation?”
