I’m not planting zucchini this year.  Instead of bearing a useable crop of vegetable, each plant tries to outdo the other and produce enough to feed the Russian army.

We used to plant a lot because we liked not only the green part, but the blossoms as well.  Now the Farmers Market tries to get rid of their ton of both during the season, and we can get them all year round from Mexico and Chili.

For a number of years, we had a Zucchini Festival, to which if you were fortunate enough to receive an invitation you were required to bring something, as long as it was made with zucchinis, and then take away a bagful of the ubiquitous vegetable when you went home.  There were so many creative ways people chose to use zucchini it always made for a great party just for the food alone.

One woman, a florist, always made the table decoration, which was decidedly worth the entire event.  There were every conceivable edible recipes, including those baked and raw, from the 20-30 guests.

One male friend informed me before he came to the first one that he hated the vegetable, never ate it and never intended to eat it.  I told him he was absolutely required to attend, even if he spit it all out.  He came, was obviously having a great time being properly fortified with fermented grape juice.  He left late which is frequently an indication that one is having an agreeable,  possibly a pleasant time.

Early next morning, (about 7 a.m.) the phone rang and a very weak male voice  whispered “I’m in the hospital, —– my blossom part is OK, but my stem end is green!”  However, when the second Festival came round, he decided to chance it once more, and fortunately survived once more.