It's a Ronde de Nice!!!

Mystery solved. The unknown "round kind" zucchini from Green String Farm is a Ronde de Nice -- a coveted French heirloom from the southern Provencal region facing the Mediterranean and abutting Italy. It is so delicate, so easily bruised it doesn't show up in markets very often.

Despite the exotic heritage, the fancy name pretty much amounts to saying "round thingy from Nice." Welcome to our garden little round thing! May you be as happy here as on the Cote d'Azur.

The first zucchini harvest this year consisted of a couple of  "long kind" Emperor's Jade beauties on June 25. It took a few days more for the Ronde de Nice to size up to what my uneducated eye considered harvestable size. At any rate, with all the data in hand, the records for the zucchini chronicles can now be brought up to date:

Seedlings planted:

2009 May 10 (Green Racer)
2010 Not sure, but later than May 10 (Green Bush)
2011 May 8 (Cocozelle, Zephyr)
2012 May 12 (Ronde de Nice, Emperor's Jade)

First blossom:

2009 June 8
2010 June 13
2011 June 12
2012 June 19 (Ronde de Nice); June 20 (Emperor's Jade)

First harvest:

2009 June 14
2010 June 21
2011 June 25
2012 June 25 (Emperor's Jade), a few days later, about June 29 (Ronde de Nice)

We had plenty of zucchini on hand for a driveway picnic on the Fourth of July. The grilled veggies were definitely a big hit, as was the rest of the menu: corn with basil butter grilled in the husk, tofu dogs, deviled eggs, and a red white and blue fruit salad of raspberries, blueberries, and yoghurt. The zucchini and basil were the only items from the garden, but nobody was complaining.

 And there was still plenty of zucchini left for the first batch of summertime green soup on July 9.

Zucchini Time Is Here Again!

It's always a thrill when the first zucchini blossom of the summer season opens for business! Adding to the thrill is the mysterious identity of this year's first bloom.

Some weeks back at Green String Farm I was looking over a long wooden table of seedlings: squash and melons with generic labels like "zucchini" or "cantaloupe." The young intern on duty couldn't tell me which variety of zucchini was being offered for sale. "I think it's one of the round kind, but I'm not sure," she said. "It could be one of the long kind."

Just starting your internship, eh? I thought to myself. No matter -- the timing was right, the garden space was available, I love trying a new type of plant, and we all need to support the next generation of idealistic farmers. I bought two sturdy seedlings and, on May 12, transplanted them into one of the cucurbit beds in the northwest corner of the garden.

On June 19 the first sunshine yellow crepe paper blossom unfurled at the end of its long thin stem -- a lone male flower, testing the summer air of this new season.

As yet unopened, the first mysterious female flower was a tight green bud with a baby zucchini, distinctively round, at its base. So, it's one of the round kind -- but which one? I decided to let it grow a bit before beginning my online research.

 

The neighboring bed with three plants of Emperor's Jade zucchini from Sweetwater Nursury via Whole Foods was also planted on May 12. Nothing was blooming yet but a baby zucchini was in evidence beneath a bud furled tight as a folded umbrella.

By the next morning, June 20, the mystery squash had opened its first female flower.

And the Emperor's golden flags were flying too, both male and female standards.

Male flowers on both varieties are quite similar in the formation of the anthers, the pollen bearing parts, but there are subtle differences in the convoluted surfaces of the female stigmas, which receive the pollen.

So far it's a good year for zucchini, unlike last summer's spider mite disaster, a most demoralizing episode. I had to buy zucchini for green soup, feeling very furtive about it. If you can't grow zucchini you might as well turn in your trowel.

I think we will be able to pass the zucchini test this year.

Data from the last several seasons shows a pretty consistent pattern of growth even though I planted different varieties each year: Seedlings set in the ground in early May start to bloom about a month later, more or less. Perhaps, all in all, it doesn't matter a lot whether it's the round kind or the long kind. Zucchini is zucchini is zucchini. But that won't stop me from tracking down the mystery squash, for the record.

Seedlings planted:

2009 May 10 (Green Racer)
2010 Not sure, but later than May 10 (Green Bush)
2011 May 8 (Cocozelle, Zephyr)
2012 May 12 (mystery squash, Emperor's Jade)

First blossom:

2009 June 8
2010 June 13
2011 June 12
2012 June 19 (mystery squash); June 20 (Emperor's Jade)

Zucchini Flatbread

We noted with pride the first zucchini blossom of the season, and the first harvest. Here's the first zucchini feast! A stunning Zucchini Flatbread, courtesy of Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day.






The process is even simpler than growing way too much zucchini. Place a baking stone in the bottom third of your oven (of course you have a baking stone) and preheat the oven to 450 degrees. The stone should heat up slowly along with the oven.

Pull out your favorite saute pan. Pictured above is a mixture of one Cocozelle zucchini grated up and simmered in olive oil and garlic with green onions sliced thin, plenty of chopped parsley, some cashew pieces (the called-for pine nuts are too pricey) and a couple of handfuls of freshly grated Parmesan cheese.






While the zucchini is softening and soaking up flavor, prepare the dough. If you are following the Five Minutes a Day system -- as we are -- this step consists of pulling the current container of dough out of the fridge, pinching off a grapefruit-sized piece, forming a ball, and rolling it out as evenly as possible to about 1/8 inch thickness. You can roll it out right on your oven peel (of course you have an oven peel) if you have enough counter space. If not, use your available rolling-out surface and then slide the round onto the peel.

Spread the warm zucchini mixture artistically over the top of the dough, carefully slide the dough and topping onto the heated up baking stone, and cook for 12 to 15 minutes before checking for doneness. If necessary, let it cook a little more until nicely browned.

We had this for dinner tonight with a garden salad. Outstanding.

First Zucchini Harvest

Here are the first zucchini's of the season -- Zephyr and Cocozelle, picked on June 25, a bit later than previous years, but not by much.

Zephyr is golden, Cocozelle has elegant ridges. On the left are unpollinated first attempts. As I understand it, the plant stops putting energy into fruit that will not form seeds and won't produce future generations of zucchini offspring. That's why the unpollinated ones are stunted and shriveled.






The Cocozelle plant is definitely open for business with numerous flowers and buds, both male and female, along with the first fruits, shown just before picking.






Zephyr doesn't have as much going on yet, but still managed to produce a pickable specimen.






This is a female flower on the Zephyr plant with its distinctive landing pads for bees bearing pollen.






This is a male flower on the Cocozelle plant with its pollen bearing center. Zucchini and other squash will cross-pollinate across varieties so it doesn't pay to save seeds unless you follow special procedures to make sure only Cocozelle pollen lands on Cocozelle blossoms. I think this means that the lone female flower on the Zephyr plant has a good chance of producing a harvestable fruit even if the seeds wouldn't be worth saving.

I don't want seeds; I want green soup. Let the pollen land where it may!

First Zucchini Blossom of 2011

Updated below, 6/27/2011

Ta-da! Somehow it's always a surprise to find the first zucchini blossom of the season flaring like a golden trumpet in the morning air.

This is a female flower waiting hopefully for pollination, and, indeed, there is a bee at lower left. The bee will get what it needs (nectar, if not pollen), but this first bloom of a Cocozelle seedling from Natural Gardening is all alone. Even hand pollination by a willing gardener won't work because no male flowers have opened yet and zucchini blossoms seem to last only a day. By tomorrow this proud beauty will be drooping, limp, and shriveled.

Nonetheless, the official trumpet blast has sounded (in my head) and summer has begun.







Here's a side view, with a baby zucchini ready to go. It won't grow much and won't be harvestable but it has played a role in announcing the season.


Combing through blog posts from previous years, I gathered some comparative data on zucchini plantings for the past three years:

Seedlings planted:

2009 May 10 (Green Racer)
2010 Not sure, but later than May 10 (Green Bush)
2011 May 8 (Cocozelle, Zephyr)

First blossom:

2009 June 8
2010 June 13
2011 June 12

First harvest:

2009 June 14
2010 June 21
2011 We'll see Update: 6/27/2011: First harvest occurred June 25

Empirical generalization: Get the seedlings in the ground by the second week of May, expect the first blossom by the second week of June and the first harvest by the third week of June.

The harvest can't come too soon for me because I'm down to about ten containers of this winter's green soup in the freezer. It's time for the summer version!

Finally! A Frittata di Trombetta di Albenga

It took about five years to get from the first planting out of seeds for the dramatic Italian climbing squash, Trombetta di Albenga, to actually featuring some in a meal.

Year 1: Discover a packet of Renee's Garden seeds at a local drugstore. Plant some out of curiosity. Become so intimidated by the gargantuan plants and strange elongated fruit that none of them get used for food. Forget about it for a couple of years.

Year 4: Find the old seed packet with some seeds left in it. Plant some out of curiosity, wondering if they will grow. They do. Vow that this time the squash will make it into a meal. It doesn't. Vow not to plant Trombetta di Albenga again.

Year 5: Discover some seedlings of Zucchetta Rampicante at a local nursury. Plant some out of curiosity. Find out that Zucchetta Rampicante is Trombetta di Albenga by another name, or such a close cousin that there is no discernible difference: long thick vines twining up eight foot poles and across a trellis, bearing numerous sleek green fruit that dangle in mid-air as they grow larger and longer. Give up, accept the dictates of fate, and welcome Zucchetta/Trombetta into our family cuisine.

Most of this year's harvest found its way into the summer batches of green soup. But finally, in early December, we used the last tender squash in a delicious frittata. The recipe comes from the attractive Italian food blog, Not Only Pizza. The secret to getting the best flavor is to slice the squash into thin rounds or half circles.






Another secret is to use really good cheese, such as Asiago. Here's the recipe:

Frittata with trombetta di Albenga
(From notonlypizza.com)
Ingredients:
1 lb. trombetta di Albenga
2 cloves of garlic
7-8 datterino tomatoes or cherry quartered or cut in half
3-4 fresh basil leaves
4 eggs
1/2 cup shredded provolone, scamorza (not smoked), Asiago or a cheese of your choice
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
sea salt to taste
Preparation:
Slice the trombetta thinly with a knife or a mandoline. Heat up 1 Tablespoon oil in a nonstick skillet with 2 cloves of garlic. Add the squash and cook it until tender, about 15 minutes mixing it often.
When the squash is cooked, turn it off and add the tomatoes. This is already a good side dish.
To make the frittata, eliminate the cloves of garlic, put the cooked squash in a bowl, add the basil, the eggs, the shredded cheese and a good pinch of salt. Mix well.
Heat up 1 Tablespoon olive oil in a non-stick skillet and pour the zucchini-egg mixture. Cook at low medium heat for about 10-15 minutes uncovered or until the bottom becomes golden brown.
Place a large plate over the frittata and turn the pan upside down then slide the frittata back in the pan and cook it for other 10 more minutes. Serve it warm or tepid, it’s good either way.





Here's what the squash looked like in late September, still sizing up on the vine.






And here's how it appeared on our dinner table at last!

(Full disclosure: It turns out that another really important secret for a perfect frittata is to use a non-stick pan so the whole thing doesn't fall apart when it gets flipped over. But that's just a minor detail in the long saga of Trombetta di Albenga, which is not only abundant but really quite delicious.)

Mr. and Mrs. Zuc

Two glorious zucchini blossoms opened at the same time on the same plant on the morning of June 14, a week ago today. The male, pollen-bearing flower is on the left; the female, fruiting flower is on the right.

Close as these blooms are to each other, it still takes a bee to seal the deal and make the magic happen. The pollen has to be brought directly to the large pistil at the center of the female flower (the part that looks remarkably like a bright yellow low-energy use light bulb).

The bee, of course, has no interest in being a zucchini fertility clinic worker; it just wants nectar and pollen for its own hive. But the flower-insect co-evolution contract is set up so that mutual benefit accrues to all involved -- including us!






Seven days after their grand opening both blossoms are shriveled little rags, but in their place is the fine young zucchini pictured above, ready to be harvested on the summer solstice.






Just for contrast, here is a photo of an un-pollinated zucchini, eight days after its attached blossom opened on June 13, all by itself with no other blossoms around. I always used to wonder why some zucchini would be so stunted and simply wither on the plant. Now I know you need both Mr. and Mrs. Zuc to get viable offspring.

For the record: Last year the first zucchini harvest was on June 14, so we are running about a week behind. I don't have a planting-out date for this year because all kinds of things got so busy in May but I think the seedlings got put in later than last year's May 10. Of course, the varieties are different as well (Green Racer last year, Green Bush this year) so perhaps meaningful comparisons are not possible. At any rate, another zucchini season has begun. Hooray!

Zucchini Blossom!

This morning around 7:00, when I went out to see what garden surprises there might be, I discovered the first zucchini blossom welcoming the day: flared like a trumpet, golden as sunshine, about five inches across. By 10:30 when I went back out it had already collapsed into itself, so there is no photo of that splendid moment.

However, no longer distracted by the giant bloom, I was able to pay attention to the first little zucchini of the season. I assume it is unfertilized as no male blossoms are open, so it probably won't amount to much. But it still has pride of place. First is first.






The plant is a Green Bush zucchini, which I have never grown before. My highly scientific approach is to grab whatever decent looking seedlings are available in the local stores when the elements of time, weather, and opportunity are all in favorable alignment. This year Green Bush was available so that's what we have. It is sizing up beautifully and looks promising.






I planted three seedlings and they are all doing well. One of the other plants is sporting two as-yet-unopened blossoms, one female with tiny zucchini attached and one male on its long thin stalk. Tomorrow morning I will be sure to take the camera on the early morning tour.

Trombetta di Albenga!

With each new gardening season it's fun to test out a new variety or two to tuck in amongst the tried and true heavy producers. Especially appealing are heirlooms with exotic foreign names: Pimientos de Padron peppers (Spain), Japanese Black Trifele tomatoes (Russia, for some reason), Biondi di Lyon chard (Italy). I can travel the world without leaving my backyard.

Several years ago I planted some seeds from Renee's Garden for an Italian climbing squash: Trombetta di Albenga, which basically means "little trumpet from Albenga." Albenga is a town on the Italian riviera not far from Genoa. The squash does climb and its fruits are indeed somewhat trumpet shaped. And I know they come from Albenga because there is a clip on YouTube of proud Albengans showing off their local produce. It is all in Italian but it features a big basket of these strange elongated vegetables.

The only misleading part is the diminutive "-etta." Be warned. These things are not little. They are mighty Jack-and-the-Beanstalk vines with huge leaves and dangling fruit that gets so big it won't fit into the refrigerator.

All summer long, with mingled fascination and horror, I watched two humongous vines grow and grow. Somehow the whole season passed and I never managed to actually cook any of the odd and alien greenish-yellow pods. Like a movie that goes straight to DVD, they went directly from garden to compost, with some brief detours into the house where they sat around until becoming compost-worthy.

Those intimidating plants might very well be nourishing this year's two vines -- grown from the same seed packet, several years old. Both of the new plants are thriving and this season I am determined to see how the squash cooks up.


Update: (February 7, 2011) We finally got around to using Trombetta in a recipe. As promised, it has a delicious, subtle, artichoke-nuanced flavor when sliced thin and cooked gently.

Zucchini Factory

The great green machine is revving up. Above is the zucchini patch as of mid-June, a couple of weeks ago, and again as it is today. This is a row of three plants, rather close together. In the top photo you can see the lid of the sunken, plugged flower pot that serves as an irrigation reservoir. There is one next to each plant.

Planting History:
Variety: Green Racer zucchini
Source: Whole Foods (Sweetwater Nursery) seedlings
Seedlings planted out: May 10, 2009
First harvest: June 14, 2009


These are the first few pickings in chronological order left to right. You can see that the earliest blossoms are brown and dry and the first couple of fruits are smaller and tapered toward the tip. Probably they didn't get fertilized (that's my theory, anyway) because the bees didn't get the press release. The news is out by now for sure. This past weekend there was a big bag of beautifully shaped zucchini in the fridge. Time for green soup!!! Who cares if the temperature is pushing 100 degrees -- summon up that old pioneer spirit.




There's no recipe for green soup, just a general process. The ingredients change according to the seasons: winter is kale and chard and broccoli; summer is mostly zucchini. Here's a description based on this weekend's batch:

1. Heat up a thin layer of good olive oil in a favorite soup pot.

2. Smash four or five cloves of peeled garlic, stir them around in the oil to infuse the flavor.

3. Saute chopped onion and celery -- enough to make a half inch layer on the bottom of the pot.

4. Add peeled, chopped carrots and potatoes -- as many as you feel like and have on hand. This batch has four big carrots and a couple of medium new red potatoes.

5. Stir it all around until coated with oil. Put lid on and let mixture soften up a bit.

6. Cover with vegetable broth -- homemade mushroom broth can't be beat. Let simmer to soften up the carrots and potatoes some more.

7. Add as much chopped zucchini as you can cram into the pot, along with any other greens you have around. This batch used the whole bag of zucchini -- about 10 lovelies of various sizes. It also includes the last few volunteer kale plants from a corner of the yard. This is the point to add any quicker cooking veggies you have on hand. Some chopped parsley is nice.

8. Add some cooked beans if you have them -- garbanzo or small white beans are great -- for extra heft and nutrition.

9. Simmer until everything is soft.

10. Put in the fridge to cool. It makes blending easier. If you have hungry people hanging around, go ahead and blend right away.

11. Eat some now.

12. And freeze the rest. I take these little packages to work for lunch so often it causes comment. But I am unabashed. Green soup is nectar and ambrosia in one fragrant, sustaining brew, the elixir of life. H. loves the stuff so whenever he comes by he takes a couple home.

What a Difference a Day Makes

I didn't know that zucchini blossoms bloom and fade in one brief day, just like the morning glories. Here's the same female flower from yesterday all folded up. The first baby zucchini of the season is ready to get growing. Did pollination occur? We shall see. Often the first few zucchinis are like the first few pancakes -- a bit misshapen and undersized but representing the best of intentions and promising more to come.




Yesterday's male zucchini blossom has also wilted overnight. It's on a different plant from the female blossom. Each plant produces both kinds of blossoms, but one male and one female on two different plants is all that's happening right now. Who knows if the bees managed to find them in time. RIP brave, life-affirming little flowers.

First Squash Blossoms

First squash blossom -- or, to be more precise, first male Green Racer zucchini blossom. A zucchini plant has separate blossoms for stamen and pistils. Here you see the stamen offering up pollen to a waiting world.















Here is a pistil-packing mama: a female Green Racer zucchini blossom (that's just the way it is in zucchini-dom). Behind the blossom, out of view, is a tiny zucchini. As I understand it, they don't develop much unless the blossom is pollinated. Hear that, bees? Get with it! People are waiting for their summertime green soup.