Marrocotti

Simply put, marrocotti is my word for stuffing a squash like a noodle.

Harvesting is tricky.  Leafy squash and cucumber plants create canopies of camouflage for the delicate fruits below. And every once in a while (or quite frequently), the harvester finds a doozy. For me, the initial reaction of "whoa, look at this!" is usually followed by slight pangs of remorse for the neglect it suffered and then the convicted conundrum of how to eat it and enjoy it. Nothing shall go to waste.  

So tonight, we feast on "marrocotti" - my term for a an overgrown zucchini (a marrow) stuffed like a manicotti noodle. I'm sure the idea exists online, but for me it was born at a "zucchini fest" I organized during my first year of volunteerism at the Heifer Ranch. Courgettes were running rampant and we needed to take action. The solution: a potluck with dishes that must contain zucchini.  The results were impressive. 

And for me, gluten-free at the time, this was a great way to modify one of my favorite dishes. A hollow marrow provides countless culinary possibilities. Treat it like any pasta dish - spicy sausage, chopped greens, mushrooms and a variety of sauces are all delicious ways to mix it up.

So here's a photo recipe to get your brain marrow-nating. (I couldn't resist.)

Wash your courgette and cut off the ends so that it fits in your baking dish.

Using a knife or a serrated grapefruit spoon, hollow out the inside.
You can also just cut off the top like a Subway sandwich and hollow it out.

In a small mixing bowl make your filling.  I used ricotta cheese, two farm eggs,
salt, pepper flakes, Italian seasoning and some fresh chopped basil. 

I like to bake the marrow stuffed, surrounded and smothered.
I used the top* end of the zucchini, a summer squash, tomatoes, garlic, onions
and one of the last remaining jars of tomato sauce from last summer.

Stuff the marrow with the cheese filling (HINT: The cut off piece from the bulb end
is great for plugging one end while you fill the other). Lay it down on a bed of
chopped onions and layer the other veggies in around it. 

Smother it with sauce and bake it for an hour at 325 or until it's tender.
I like to add shredded cheese on top half way through the cooking time.

Let it rest before serving. 

Time flies...

...and cucumbers get chubby.  We've been on the road for the bulk of the 30 days.  In garden terms, this is a crucial time.  Thanks to drip systems, timers and friendly neighbors, our garden survived the first weeks of June. At home we are enjoying wee (yet diverse) backyard harvests on a daily basis.  The farm has managed to independently produce a decent harvest of broccoli, potatoes and blackberries. Our rows at the neighborhood Victory Garden are yielding sweet tomatoes, tiny okra, surprise zucchinis and a bumper crop of cucumbers.

And oh the cukes - neglected little prickly chubs which will soon be transformed into cool summer salads, crisp tasty pickles and fancy little sandwiches.

After a week away, we were welcomed home by 42 lbs of cucumbers.
These are the big ones destined for pickle spears and halves. 

So the greenhouse stands abandoned and the beds runneth over. Dirt decorates my nails and humidity styles my hair. The flowers make me gush and the bugbites make me dance. Summer has arrived in style!

May Photo Update

Visit the PHOTOS page to see images of May - the good, the bad and the pesky.

Sweet on the Sour: Our Lemon Trees

THE SEEDS
Once a month our local UU church hosts a recycle/book swap Sunday. Members can bring in items like electronics and batteries to recycle and items like books to swap. Inevitably, items besides books appear on the swap tables. Those tend to catch my eye.

In February, I spotted a beautiful piece of wood on wheels.  As I picked it up and pondered what it might be, I noticed a woman at the other end of the tables waving her hand to get my attention. "If you want that please take it, but if you don't, I would really like to have it," she said sweetly. "What is it?" I asked in earnest. It looked a lot like the scooters I used to race around on in elementary gym class. "I think it's for moving large plants around," she answered. It made sense, and all of a sudden I wanted it. I didn't need it though, and judging by the look on her face, she was going to put it to good use right away.

As I walked towards her to hand it over, she continued to explain her intentions. "My lemon tree has grown too large for me to move in and out on my own. Having it on wheels would be so helpful."  She had me at lemon tree. My facial expression must have given me away because she continued to tell me about hers - how she grew it from a seed - how it produces quite well and oh, by the way, would I like her to bring me some seeds?

YES.

I was floored. A few weeks later she handed me a baggie of seeds from the very last lemon of the season. They were still in the juice; seven perfect little seeds.

THE HUNT
I intended to plant them right away, but of course, that didn't happen.  The baggie hung on the fridge for a week or so before I tossed it in to the fridge hoping the coolness would prolong their life. Eventually enough was enough and I came home on my lunch break with a mission to plant those seeds. I grabbed the baggie and went to the greenhouse to select my pots, my gloves and a hand trowel.  Then I walked to our potting soil mixing table in the yard, prepared my pots and reached into the baggie for the seeds. It was empty.

I panicked. These were the last seven seeds of the season and I had squandered them.  I was surely being punished for not planting them right away.  With my lunch hour ticking away I started micro-hunting - retracing my steps through the grass to the greenhouse and sifting through the huge table of potting soil. This was ridiculous, I told myself over and over. I was never going to find them, but I couldn't give up. Even if I could find just one...

I carefully turned the greenhouse inside out and there, tucked in the lip of an upside-down tub, I spotted a seed. I had to get tweezers to fetch it out. Thinking the rest had to be close by, I worked my way down into the 55 gallon trash can of empty potting containers. By the time I reached the bottom I had found five. Five was good enough, I told myself, but I couldn't stop hunting.  And good thing, because after a few minutes, the final two were plucked from the overgrown mess of clover under the trash can. The world felt right again.

I planted those seven seeds after loving on them with a photo-shoot. Something I should have done in the first place. Somehow I made it back to work on time with little to no residue from the chaos that had just occurred.

The woman said it would take a while to sprout them, so I waited.  Four long weeks went by and nothing happened. A voice inside kept nagging me to give up and throw them out, but my desire for a lemon tree persisted.

THE SPROUT
Six patient weeks later, the first sprout appeared. The next day it was gone - eaten for lunch by some unknown evil. The stump of the stem remained level with the soil looking sad and dejected. It had worked so hard to make an appearance.  The second seed sprouted to find a similar fate and my hopes began to fade.  I tucked the pots away on a lower shelf in the greenhouse just in case things took a turn for the better.

And turn they did.  Last week I discovered all seven pots boasting healthy seedlings. I don't know what made the difference, perhaps they just needed more time and a little less attention.  All I know is that I am proud to host them in my greenhouse (now alongside two grapefruit seedlings also from the same woman) and look forward to whatever is to come...hopefully in the shape of a pie.

Carrot Catharsis

I have come to grips with the fact that the satisfaction I feel watching carrots grow heavily outweighs any satisfaction I feel after a productive day at the office. Ten minutes a day with three small rows of dragon carrots is enough to clear my head and make me smile inside. Though I admit that they are part of a larger picture which is growing up healthily around them, and all of it contributes to my "have a good day" in the morning and my "welcome home" at night.

So here's to my first time growing carrots...I can't wait to eat you!