We made the mistake of planting an entire package of zucchini seeds this summer. They burst out of the ground like Jack’s beanstalk and each plant produced a zoogillion zucchinis.
Now, I have zucchini coming out of my ears. And other places. I’m holding a contest at my house called, “most creative use of zucchini”. Aside from the mundane zucchini casserole and zucchini bread and cake we have; zuk-kabobs, deviled zuk, zukironi and cheese, zuk au gratin, zuk cordon bleu, and zuk under glass.
We have grilled it, fried it, mashed it, baked, boiled, broiled, frickken fricasseed it. We have tried it with a fox, we have tried it in a box, we have tried it here and there, we have tried it everywhere. We do not like it Sam, I am.
We’re sick of it. I am writing this blog at a table built of zucchini and seated on a zucchini bench. I sent my youngest son to school in a pair of shoes fashioned from zucchini. I sent it to my daughter’s class to celebrate her birthday. What? The kids didn’t enjoy the piñata stuffed with zucchini? What did they want? Crook-neck? Lousy kids.
I’m thinking next year, we’re gonna win the Pillsbury Bakeoff with something made from zucchini, Wendy. Nothin’ says lovin’ like a zucchini in the oven.