Chiara pulled up what must have been close to twenty pounds of zucchini from the kitchen garden yesterday. She put them all into a basket with an enormous handle and carried them to her back door where they would wait.
“What will you do with all of those zucchini?” I asked her.
“They will be boiled” she answered.
Somehow it sounds a bit severe to be boiled. I suppose it is why people say things like “passed on” or “gone to a better place” or “looked for greener pastures.”
“You mean pickled? I hoped.
“No, boiled.”
Tuscany can be harsh, but on the flip side, nothing is wasted.
You could always marinate them afterwards or soften the blow with a grassy olive oil, a shower of sea salt, a few sprigs of parsley, a few cherry tomatoes, a sprig of fennel and a slab of onion. I didn’t mention it.
Instead I slivered my own single remaining zucchini and tossed them around in a pan with olive oil, sea salt, a clove of garlic and a lone leaf of basil. I added a bit of leftover plain pasta, another drizzle of olive oil and then over a lowflame, two beaten eggs. I pushed the sides in to let the egg from the center spill underneath, turned off the flame, flipped the eggs to their undercooked side and let them wait just long enough for me to get a plate. Side of summer ripened melon and proscuitto. The end of a chocolate bar with hazelnuts for dessert.