Too Much of a Good Thing

 

July and August are the months of plenty in the gardening calendar. Tomatoes, beans, soft fruit and just about anything raised in the greenhouse bursts into life and keeps on doing so until the first joy of picking your own gives way to a desperate hunt through recipe books for something – anything – to use up all those courgettes. Did I mention we grow courgettes?

Every year, it’s the same in the Leigh household. My green-fingered husband gets out his tin of seeds and pores over them. He likes to get them in by mid-April and every year, the conversation goes something like this.

Me: “How many courgette plants are you putting in this year?”

Him: “I thought four or five.”

Me: “Four or five?? Remember last year? We were inundated and that was even after one of the plants died.”

Him: “I know, but I’ll put in five just in case.”

In case of what, he’s never explained. A national courgette shortage perhaps? Such a thing has never happened in all the years we’ve been growing them. As I shared earlier on in the year, we spent a good deal of time in early summer bending over the raised bed gazing fondly at the tiny plants and nurturing them with water and encouragement. Like new parents, we were ecstatic each time a new shoot appeared, delighted with each buttery yellow flower and over the moon with an actual fruit lying glossily on its loamy bed. The excitement lasted for about three weeks. Then my CAD kicked in.

I suffer quite badly from this condition, and I don’t think I’m alone. It’s a seasonal disorder, generally lasting from late May until early September. There should be a support group for those who grapple with it, but I can’t find one. To what am I alluding? Why, Courgette Anxiety Disorder, of course.

Those who are diagnosed with CAD have a number of distressing symptoms. They may begin to make odd dishes, adding a courgette where a courgette does not belong. For example, Eggs Benedict with a courgette foam, grated courgette on toast or even duck à la courgette. In extreme cases, a visitor to the home of a CAD sufferer may be offered a cup of tea or coffee garnished with courgette rosettes.

Courgette can be added to a perfectly nice dish to bulk it out. We tried making courgette and mint soup in the summer. Delicious, and it used up loads, but the children turned their noses up at it. We sneaked a whole one into the weekly leek and potato soup after that, and they never suspected a thing.

There are those who swear by courgette cake. I’ve never tried it and I probably never will. Call me old-fashioned, but a cake to me is composed of eggs, butter, sugar and flour with chocolate or coffee or fruit added.

In late July, even though one of the plants had passed over due to an unknown disease, the other four spread themselves seductively over the raised beds and got busy. One day, I picked ten. Ten! I ask you. We had courgettes with dinner every night, sometimes I made an omelette with sage and courgettes for lunch and one morning I presented my husband with a breakfast including courgettes fried in butter and sage and sprinkled with black pepper.

Something had to be done. My CAD generally manifests itself in a sudden outburst of alarming generosity. Unwary visitors are asked leading questions in a casual fashion. “Are you growing anything this year? Tomatoes? Oh lovely. Have you got any courgettes?”

CAD makes you cunning. I mentally file non-courgette growers’ names and addresses away and when driving through the village, engage in a spot of guerrilla courgetting. This is when you leave a selection on top of their wheelie bin or in their porch and then drive away.

At first, the recipients were delighted. They sent me pictures of courgette spaghetti and quiches. After a second visit, not so much, and following a particularly lavish guerrilla session one evening, they realised that they too were running out of ideas for interesting recipes.

Last week, I shared the exciting news that I’ve got a book deal and that my first novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge” is going to be published after Christmas. Last week, some old friends came over and we had a wonderful evening together. One of them came up with a brilliant idea for book-related merch. She suggested I make sustainable bookmarks with dried courgette slices, then varnish them. The reader can simply chip away the varnish if they get peckish. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

My CAD is getting better. I no longer check the courgette bed every day in a fever of anticipation. I gave away a marrow this morning, but I asked first. There’s no effective treatment for the disorder, short of persuading Mr Leigh not to plant them next year, and that’s never going to happen. So, for now, I’ll enjoy my autumn and winter free of this distressing condition and do a bit of research into what I can use the glut for next year.

Courgette Caponata, anyone?

Images by Pixabay

Ruth is a freelance writer and novelist. She is married with three children, one husband, four budgies, six quail, eight chickens and a kitten. Her first novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge” is coming out after Christmas and she has another work in process. She writes for a number of small businesses and charities. Ruth is a recovering over-achiever who is now able to do the school run in her onesie most days. She has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life.