Monthly Archives: September 2007

Crock score


Went over to Max and Nina’s house yesterday. Max saw a freezer on the corner, and we need a freezer. So we drove around looking for it–but it was gone. Bummer. Back at their house, we sat around and talked about Lynda Barry, chicken farming, and pig slaughtering poems (Rodney Jones has a great one where he calls the pigs the “dolphins of the barnyard”). The topic of crocks came up and Max brightened: do we need a crock? Hell yes, I need a crock I said. Within moments I had a number 6 blue label crock (sans lid) in the back of the car. Thank the heaven and earth for people who like to collect things! The cucs are out of control, I’m going to start the crock o’pickles tonight. As soon as I wash the dirty thing!

Galeuse d’Eysines


Last night, after a rough day of biodiesel wrangling, I sat in bed and read The Compleat Squash by Amy Goldman. It’s total vegetable porn but with great information. I’ve been telling people, for instance, that the squash pictured here in my garden is a Marina di Chioggia (I lost the original seed packet) but now I know that it’s the Galeuse d’Eysines, a different kind of warty monster. Goldman says the squash was bred to look like this in the Burgundy region of France (the original species came from South America). Its flesh will be quite dense, dry, and orange. I have about seven of these; and about seven of the Gill’s Blue Hubbards–plenty to make it through the fall months.
I also learned that because I planted two kinds of Cucurbita maxima varietals fairly close to each other, I can’t save the seed. Or maybe I will, and see if I get some crazy cross-breed. According to Goldman, one should harvest the squash when the skin of the squash can’t be punctured with your thumbnail. The book inspired me for next year’s garden–I’m going to plant the Winter Luxury Pie (cucurbita pepo), Musquee de Provence (curcubita moschata), Marina di Chioggia (curcubita maxima). By planting only one varietal of each species, I can save the seeds and they’ll produce ‘true’ offspring.