Zucchini-ed Out

Decades later the zucchini glut still exists every August throughout our land.  In small town American August is the month when people always lock their car doors.  If you don’t when you return to your vehicle you’ll find sacks of squash left on the back seat.  

Zucchini-ed Out 

August 24, 1983 

DEFENSELESS.  Our house is under siege.  The harvest is under way and I’ve come to realize the Maynard’s are the only family between De Beque and Mack who failed to plant zucchini squash this year. 

More people have zucchini birthing daily in their gardens than bindweed growing in the yard.  And do zucchini grow in the Grand Valley?  By comparison a pair of rabbits appear to be members of Planned Parenthood.  Zucchini seem to multiply exponentially. 

And nobody, but nobody, plants just one solitary hill of zucchini.  Everyone insists on populating at least half the garden with them. 

Then, about the middle of July, comes the shattering realization you are about to be displaced by zucchini.  But to whom do you give them?  Everybody else is overpopulated with the same problem. 

I’m convinced there’s an underground newsletter listing the names of people who neglected to grow their own zucchini.  We’ve received squash offers from folks we’ve never met.  After returning home from a family trip, we’ve discovered the path to our front door impenetrable due to the plethora of bulging City Market sacks filled with zucchini and left on our doorstep by anonymous green thumbs. 

Should some entrepreneur wish to make a fortune he need only start a zucchini placement service.  People would pay huge fees to an individual, preferably one with a degree in sociology, to take excess squash and place them in a good home. 

First-time zucchini growers are instantly recognizable.  They appear convinced it takes talent to grow zucchini.  And the bigger the better.  At this time of the year, a ringing doorbell will often announce a grinning simpleton offering you the chance of a lifetime on his great zucchini.  As he stands there he invariably risks a double hernia under the weight of four squash that look big enough to function as beams in the new Hilton Hotel. 

“Thought you’d like some squash.” He’ll casually announce.  “Do you want me to leave them in the garage?” 

“No” you reply, “It might rain tonight and we’d like to put the car in.” 

“We’ve never had a garden before until this year,” says the visitor.  “It sure saves on the grocery bill.” 

“And on the car repairs too” you add.  “If you ever break the axle on your four-wheel drive, you’ve got the replacement out in the garden.” 

Explanations on how zucchini tastes best when it is pan size only serves to aggravate your benefactor.  “Seems to me beggars can’t be choosers,” he says.  You attempt to remind him that cliché doesn’t apply this time.  The world can be as choosy as it wants when it comes to squash. 

But the fella can’t be blamed for being testy.  After all, he has to carry those monsters back home, appearing to all the world like some lumberjack heading off to work and taking the trees with him. 

Once you do weaken and accept a zucchini, what alternatives are there?  I mean, after the fried zucchini, quiche zucchini, salad zucchini, zucchini pancakes, zucchini bread, zucchini wine, zucchini yogurt and zucchini French fries.

Well, some additional squash favorites might include Crispy Wheats ‘N Zucchini.  While having a bowl of cereal during the 10 o’clock news, sprinkle thin slices of squash over the top.  Don’t eat the veggies but leave them in the bowl along with that last bite that always seems to be left over.  Then scrape the leftovers into the garbage the next morning when loading the dishwasher. 

When the neighbor kids wander into the kitchen asking, “Can I have something to eat?” give them a plate of zucchini.  It goes a long way toward cutting down on unwanted company. 

Overgrown zucchini can also be used as doorstops, baseball bats, tent poles, and as the signpost for yard sale announcements. 

Shade tree mechanics have found zucchini great for replacing the cement blocks normally found supporting cars under repair.  Radio stations could utilize the squash for a transmitting tower.  The city of Denver might very well consider zucchini goalposts for Mile High Stadium.  If fans wanted to tear down the goal posts, let ‘em.  The neighbors will just drop by more goal posts the next week. 

Zucchini disposal is becoming an increasing problem in our society.  Some folks have suggested classes in zucchini art be taught at the Art Center as a possible method of using up the excess production.  Others think the Pentagon should mumble about our new super weapon, the mysterious zucchini missiles.  Soviet spies will steal the entire crop and cause the Kremlin to undergo a zucchini glut. 

But the best idea so far has been to establish a zucchini dump on the deserts of southeastern Utah.  Excess squash will be shipped in from all over our country and buried beneath the ground.   

The only problem is the residents of the area saying no.  It seems the idea of a nuclear waste dump in their area isn’t troubling but residents of the Beehive state already are up to their ears in zucchini and might no relish the idea of the rest of the country adding to their problem.