Limp on the vine
I never did post the follow-up to my zucchini post. Probably because it turned out to be not so exciting. As a matter of fact, I left him waiting a day too long and all the bluster and show tunes drained out of him. I found him just lying there in the straw, looking exhausted from the effort of having held himself up for so long. Too big for his own britches.
But he was sure delicious in my Puttanesca last night.
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"In summer we live out of doors, and have only impulses and feelings, which are all for action, and must wait commonly for the stillness and longer nights of autumn and winter before any thought will subside; we are sensible that behind the rustling leaves, and the stacks of grain, and the bare clusters of the grape, there is the field of a wholly new life, which no man has lived; that even this earth was made for more mysterious and nobler inhabitants than men and women. In the hues of October sunsets, we see the portals to other mansions than those which we occupy."
~Henry David Thoreau
August 15th, 2007 at 1:19 pm
See, there you go again. Isn’t Puttanesca Italian for whore or prostitute or something? How ironic that your valiant masculine zucchini should end up in such a dish!