Zucchini "pasta"—a low-carb winner for dinner

This striped Latino zucchini is a favorite. We grow one Latino plant, one Black Beauty, the variety typical in produce aisles, and one golden variety. Latino is especially good for "noodles" as it retains more crunch than the others. 

The zucchini floodgate has opened, and we are dealing with up to a dozen every day from three plants. We planted six seeds in three hills, then agonized over which 15 seedlings to pull. We've learned the hard way that all you need is one plant every three feet. Otherwise it is a riot of rowdy giant leaves and aggressive bully fruits shoving one another and then you are forced to dive in to deal with them. Zucchini can get ugly.

We enter the zucchini microcosms at our own risk. Even though we give away more than we use, I learn more every year about how to use this abundance. Since bread, pasta, rice and most grains are off the table, I'm always looking for alternatives. I love marinara and other pasta sauces, but much prefer to eat them over something. I seriously do not even LIKE pasta anymore. It makes me feel crappy and bloated, as does wheat-based pizza crust and even rice. So I'm looking at zukes with a new perspective.

Zucchini works for pizza dough and lasagna. But spaghetti-type noodles? Let's try it. Of course, I'm not the first to think of this. Nothing is new under the sun, right? But here's what I did and how and wow, it was surprisingly good and will definitely be repeated.

How to make zucchini noodles—and use them for dinner

Select zucchini that is at least 10 inches long. Grate with a cheese grater lengthwise into "noodles." Put into a colander, sprinkle with salt, toss, then drain for 20 minutes or more. Squeeze liquid out before advancing to the next step, which is to saute in a bit of olive oil for a few minutes until "al dente". Don't worry about rinsing off the salt—it mostly goes away as  the liquid drains.  How much zucchini to grate? Figure on one 10-incher per person. Don't include  the inside where seeds are forming. 

Zucchini noodles ready for sauce. They're not at all mushy. These were made with the
Black Beauty variety, which is easily grown and may be purchased in almost any grocery. I sauteed them
 in olive oil and butter with a bit of minced garlic for a few minutes, until they were al dente.

 This is the last of the 2011 frozen marinara sauce, to which I added a bit of this year's basil and
some of Paul's serrano sauce for a little kick. He deserves a little kick himself. 

On the side was broccoli, basil, and sweet onions from the garden and store-bought cauliflower  tossed with a great garlic/sesame seasoning mix I purchased at the Grants Pass Growers' Market with a Candy's Farm label. Unfortunately, Candy's Farm, Salem, Oregon, doesn't appear to have a web presence. But, if you get a chance,  they make a great blend of roasted garlic, lemon grass, sesame seeds, veggie flavoring, ginger, and salt.
 I melted a little mozzarella cheese on top.

Dinner's on! Homemade marinara with a little sausage over zucchini noodles topped with grated Parmesan and a big side of broccoli, cauliflower and onions seasoned by Candy's Farm.

Road Trip Tips

After one entire week! away from home, garden, and elderly mom duties, I am ready to dispense advice. Ignore at your peril. 

1. If the weather sucks, follow the sun. Hint: it's usually south.

We'd planned a bike ride and campout in Northern California. Surly clouds gave credence to the weather forecast—rain, hail, thunderstorms. Nope. All four of us agreed to abandon that plan and head toward Redding and its sunny forecast. 
2. Let others stew in die-hard plans.

Laurie and Steve soaking in the sun near Lake Sonoma.

Some stalwart friends would have toughed it out and slogged through the rain. I love them, but I'm glad they weren't there to say, Hell, let's do it anyway! This time PK and I were with Eugenites Laurie and Steve, and Laurie is an ardent sun seeker with extreme gloom aversion. 
Whatever's happening in the sky is reflected in her face and demeanor. Why does she live in rain-drenched Eugene? She's working on that. In the meantime, she leaned south, and so we went. Happily.
3. Look for the unexpected gifts of going where you didn't intend to go and doing what you didn't intend to do.
So we ended up in Redding, where we discovered a great bike path along the Sacramento River in the Turtle Bay Exploration Park and lots of good camping, hiking, boating and swimming in the Whiskeytown National Recreation Area just 10 miles out of town. We'll definitely return for the biking and also may entice grandson Noah and his parents to Redding's hot dang water park. The beautiful Sundial Bridge alone is worth the trip. 
4. If it rains/snows/spits regardless of your efforts to escape, put on your raincoat, your best attitude, and shut up. As Scarlett said, Tomorrow is another day. 
We had some sprinkles during dinner prep camping at Whiskeytown. We turned up our collars and swilled more wine. Life was good. Still is. 

5. Pack lighter than light.

Four-Wheel pop-up is a super deluxe and comfy unit but does not accommodate excess. 

 This is a constant challenge, especially since we now travel in a small pick-up camper. Small is the operative word when talking about that camper.  I confess to toting more than needed and rummaging through 15 garments when half as many would have been enough. 
6. No one cares how you look, and looking good is a big part of over-packing. That and planning for every contingency. Relax.
Everyday advice. Not just for camping. Without anyone to compare yourself to, who cares? Only the people who want to look better than you do give a rip about whether your socks match. Screw em. 
7. Carry more maps than you think you'll need.
PK and I added "Atlas" to our always-bring packing list. 
8. Carry a smart phone.
We don't have one, but we will as soon as our phone contract expires. Thanks to Steve for supplying instant information via iPhone. In the meantime, our GPS unit came in handy, and sometimes our iPad, which is pretty worthless in the sun.
9. Bring a smart person, someone who likes to drive and isn't too opinionated or set in his/her ways.
 PK and I have been married for close to 40 years, and I am so lucky that he is the smart person. True, he is opinionated. But he's a great traveler, and he prefers to drive. I'll keep him handy for the next trip. 

PK and me near the end of a happy road trip hike.

Healdsburg host and blade runner/road warrior, Lanny says, Right on. Life is SO good.
Go with the flow, baby.

The Garden at Summer Solstice

From the garden today, basil, a sweet onion, and the season's first zucchini!

A memorable summer solstice was in the Grand Canyon in 1994. PK was the trip leader for our private group of families. Sixteen people, 18 days. Half of our entourage was age 16 or younger. Our sons Quinn and Chris were 15 and 8, respectively. Quinn and Sarah created a solstice symbol in the sand at our camp, red cliffs soaring overhead. Mark and Susan Goracke attempted to create pizza without crust. Or a working stove. How to top that?

Today topped it. Why?

Because today is now. And now is what we have. And really, today is all that matters.We have wonderful memories, but memories don't sustain. They may even hold us back. 

Today is summer solstice 2012. I was ruminating about the Grand Canyon while digging in our garden to water and eradicate weeds. Amidst the tomatoes, at 90 degrees, I laid low, literally, and snipped soil-skimming tomato leaves. If you don't know, tomato leaves on the ground are not good.

Just above, a nest of baby swallows twittered.  (Not online, however) A bit higher, adult swallows dive bombed. I was literally on my back a few feet from the nesting box originally created for bluebirds, but which swallows have commandeered. Swallows are fearsome, brave, spirited, and wonderful. I laughed and shouted as they tried to clip me.

This is what you don't expect from gardening, but what you can rejoice in if it happens. Lying helpless on the ground and having birds try to scare you away. Seeing the natural world as if you weren't even there. (Glad it wasn't a cougar or grizzly!)

I didn't have my camera, but will try to capture. Alas, the fledglings will soon leave the nest and the drama will be over. The swallows won't give a damn about me. I probably won't get a photo. But for today I have this memory of tiny birds with giant spirits. And a bit more. 

A major random volunteer lettuce harvested.

A black beauty zucchini in the making.

Leeks about to bust into flower. 

The first sunflower of 2012. 

Among the first raspberries.

The end of the major strawberry crop and the start of broccoli.

Thank God for blueberries. It'll be a trick to shield them from  devil birds. 

Garlic scape pesto

A garlic scape curls in on itself. Cutting them is advised so the  energy goes into the garlic heads.
In the meantime, garlic scapes can be enjoyed in a variety of ways. Or so they say.

Something new, to me at least. Garlic scapes—the curlicue thingies that develop near the end of garlic's time in the soil. Apparently, they are a delicacy. All kinds of blogs and cooking sites feature them. I don't know how I learned these snaky-looking do-dads have a name or a culinary purpose. For years and years I've broke them off and tossed them into the compost. Now it appears I was a fool. Not a surprise. Been a fool before.

Scapes right out of the garden, sitting on a lawn chair. Waiting for a G&T? 

Garlic scapes are not readily available except at farmers' markets and upscale natural food stores, and only in season. They probably cost a fortune. But we have them in the garden as the garlic approaches maturity, so I decided to try them. Our menu tonight: big garden salad, broccoli quiche, and garlic scape pesto. Here's a recipe I found online. I altered it quite a bit, mainly by adding more olive oil and cheese plus some basil and parsley. It's a basic pesto formula. And tasty! It was great on the quiche and would be fantastic on fresh tomatoes. If you have the scapes, give it a try.Or look up other scape ideas. Scapes taste mild garlic/tangy and work well as a pesto base, but I hear they are also wonderful in stir fries.
Note: Next evening I tried garlic scape pesto with sauteed chard and a eggs. Yum!


Garlic Scape Pesto
As always, use your judgement and taste buds to fine tune

10 -12 garlic scapes
1/2 cup fresh basil
2-3 sprigs fresh parsley
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan or other savory hard cheese
1/3 cup lightly toasted slivered almonds, walnuts, or pine nuts
1/2-3/4 cup olive oil (I used at least 3/4 cup)
Salt to taste
Hot pepper flakes (optional)

Process the scapes, basil and parsley until finely chopped. Add nuts and cheese, and drizzle the olive oil into the processor until you've achieved the desired consistency. Add salt and pepper flakes to taste and whirr a few more seconds. Use immediately, or store refrigerated and covered with a film of plastic wrap. May be frozen air tight for a couple months.

When something dies under your house, just go outside

I'm shivering in my office. The rest of house is toasty, but the office window is open wide, and chill seeps in. A vent beneath my desk is open to the crawl space under the house, and something died  there. Right next to my vent, evidently. A bouquet of aromatic roses and a scented candle do not touch the stench, nor does the cold air from the open window.

Roses brought into the house to counteract the dead rat smell did not work. Look good, though.

Outside the fragrant flowers and erect young vegetables are bursting with life and sweetness. The strawberries and blueberries ripen, birds swoop and flit between the feeders and the garden, all ringed by a pretty country fence and surrounded by green mountains. We can see a smattering of homes on the hillside across the valley. In our neighbors' pastures, miniature horses frolic, and a field of ripe hay awaits cutting. Next door, a rosy-cheeked toddler delights her beautiful and loving young parents. Perfect.

But under our house, death.  There could be a dozen corpses under there, for all we know. PK has been waging a poison war against the gophers and moles that are tunneling through the garden and even under paving stones. Some tunnels lead under the house.

A gopher or mole did this, dislodging dirt and sand under
paving stones, which, incidentally, had just been repaired!

This isn't the first time a rodent or two or three has croaked just a few feet out of sight and reach. Several years ago PK inch-wormed his way to a far corner of the crawl space to retrieve the rotting rat  that revolted all who entered. No more crawl-space inch-worming for PK, and certainly not for moi. We'll open more windows or hire somebody with a hazmat suit. In the meantime, we'll go outside!

NEWS FLASH! Minutes after I wrote the above, a PEST EXTERMINATOR knocked on our door. Unbelievable that he showed up. In my university English lit classes, such an event would be considered deus ex machina, whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly solved with the contrived and unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object. (Wikipedia).

This type of intervention can't be written without peril, but when it happens in real life, you just rejoice and marvel. We hired the same guy last year to close up the crawl spaces, and he just happened by to see if we needed anything. At exactly the most opportune moment.


Oh my God! Yes!

He donned mask and coveralls and squeezed through a crawlspace entryway. Beneath my office, right below the vent, he found a fetid seeping rat carcass, which he shoved into a plastic bag and drove off with in his big black truck.
A couple days later, life is good and air is fresh here at my computer. In addition, our deliverance guy found and blocked the pest entry. We paid him $100 and everybody was happy, except the neighborhood rodents. 
A few country-living photos follow attesting to the general wholesomeness of the lifestyle. 
But David Lynch knows, and I know, that death, decay, and evil can strike—or seep—at any moment. For now, I enjoy the wholesomeness and hope for the best. Thank you, exterminator guy. Thank you, universe.

Out here, a few tractor fumes hardly interfere with the fresh air. 

Volunteer poppies delight the eye and spirit.

This is the first serious greens harvest of the season. By "serious" I mean we can't possibly eat all that chard and kale, and I must clean it, rip it into pieces, steam it, and shove it into freezer bags. I''ll be glad I did as chard and kale are winter staples.  The onions? The very first sweet onions thinned this season. 

It's difficult not to admire a vegetable that emerges from rocks. Go chard!!

The faithful perennials make me glad.

I love this rose bush. 

The late spring/early summer garden a couple weeks ago. Not a whiff of dead rat out here.
But as David Lynch and I know, death, decay and evil are never far away. I know we're not the only ones who notice.