Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local
“Should we just give up, Brian?” I asked with a deep sigh. Looking at the garden upon returning home from our trip did not inspire feelings of confidence, motivation, pride…anything positive. Unless you count positively depressing.
The garden wasn’t quite that bad; or at least, its effect on my emotions wasn’t. As far as the garden itself is concerned, though, it’s hard to put into words how bad it was. Before we left I had done a bit of what I like to call “rescuing” my crops, which entails pulling weeds directly around the plants so I can see them again or at least know they’re surviving somewhere in there. I’m quick to acknowledge it’s not an effective long-term strategy, although I clearly never learn since it’s one I employ every growing season. It’s really more of a coping mechanism than a strategy, and a poor one at that — since in the meantime the weeds everywhere else only grow higher, taller, stronger, continuing to encroach on the life of my vegetables.
We could call it shade protection, moisture retention, cover crop. But really it boils down to failure.
Or at least it probably should. Yet as momentarily tempting as it was to consider mowing down the whole thing, saving the hours of extremely necessary improvement and upkeep as well as removing the constant eyesore and reminder of my struggle, actually admitting to garden defeat is not something I’ve done yet.
And I’ve given myself reasons, oh I’ve given myself reasons. The weeds this year at my face-the-truth crisis were knee-high (and not knee-high to a grasshopper, although the plague of those isn’t helping anything either), lush and jungle-y. But to say some of them have been taller than me in previous seasons is neither stretching the truth nor the weed height.
I do weed sometimes! Just clearly never enough. I will say it is at least a more gratifying activity when the weeds are so huge and predominant that you can pull armloads worth in mere minutes, visibly transforming a section in the process.
Sometimes my crops survive in spite of adversity, and sometimes they don’t. But I invariably find myself writing an annual article similar to this one, lamenting the deplorable nature of my garden. I was closer than I ever have been at throwing in the towel/trowel this time…then Benson came over and rejoiced at sighting a baby tomato, and I remembered one of the reasons we do this.
And the good news is, this year I have several friends who have asked me to tend their gardens while they are gone. They know how much I love gardening, but obviously weren’t paying attention to mine when they asked, or perhaps they were just desperate enough that they weren’t checking resumes.
To be fair, they didn’t ask me to weed. Just to water and check for produce — poor Kiah got a little watered herself at the neighbor’s when I didn’t realize the sprinkler would reach where she was sitting when I turned it on. Oops.
But she got some summer squash out of the deal, which Benson was overjoyed to find and pick.
Even if ours hadn’t perished in the weed jungle, summer squash is not one of those things we ever think there is a real surplus of, contrary to popular opinion. It’s so versatile, you might find it anywhere on our table these days — which is nice, because it’d be hard to find it in our garden.
Slow-Roasted Summer Squash
Some people don’t like summer squash because it gets mushy easily, but that’s actually the point of this recipe, and I love it. The flavors are super simple, which lets the squash goodness shine through. I have two tarragon plants that are going gangbusters (they’re in pots, so safe from the garden), and don’t always know how to use it, and this was lovely. This recipe would work just as well with another fresh herb though, like basil or oregano, and zucchini would also be a good sub for the yellow squash. This dish is a good side on its own, or try it on toast, with scrambled eggs, or wrapped in a tortilla.
Prep tips: I used squash that some would say was too big to be any good, but instead of shredding it into oblivion or throwing it to the chickens, I cooked it down delightfully here.
a drizzle of olive oil
a knob of salted butter
a couple yellow summer squash, sliced in thin rounds
several sprigs of fresh tarragon, leaves chopped
salt and cracked pepper
optional: ricotta/cottage cheese to serve
Heat oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat, and stir in squash along with a good pinch of salt. Reduce heat to lowest and cover pan; cook, stirring every now and then, for at least half an hour — until squash has “melted,” turned rich and soft. Stir in the fresh tarragon and lots of cracked pepper, seasoning with salt to taste. Serve hot or cold, preferably with a good scoop of soft cheese.
