July 16, 2011
Lemon Cuke
My friend had his lemon cucumbers out for sale at the Hanover (Illinois) market this morning, and I bought this one. And I bought his mixed greens, his kale, and his oregano, as well as zucchini and new potatoes from an Elizabeth (Illinois) man who also sells grass-pastured lamb and beef. (I still have some of his lamb in my freezer compartment, so I bought no meat today.) Also, four little zucchini muffins from a woman selling baked goods, jam, and pickles.
It is a low-key market, and that is what makes it fun, as many buyers and sellers seem to know one another.
A couple of weeks ago a woman was buying some of my friend’s kale, and she said that she had seen some come up near her house but did not know what it was or if it was safe or good to eat. So, she said, she took it and showed it to another local woman at the post office, a gardener who ate it up right there. And the uncertain woman then knew it was all right.
Another lady appeared timid when my friend told her that borage is edible, so I took some that he had floating in a bowl and ate it in the hope of easing her fears. She remained apprehensive.
Funny, isn’t it? Country people used to know what to do with greens and all kinds of things that just spring up. It’s odd that knowing what to do with such things is now almost a sign of sophistication.
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I was struck a few years ago by the reality you can’t buy organic (shit, vegetables of any kind really) in rural North Texas anymore.
I sometimes wonder whether the only reason there is a (small) market for such things out here in Jo Daviess County, Illinois may be on account of the part-time residents who are based in Chicago. People who would not know what to do with a truck patch but know what kale is on account of Whole Foods.
Yeah, that makes sense.
Is lemon cuke dessert?
Oh, no. And it is not really especially lemony. It is a cucumber. Believe it.
I do. Lame ass attempt at self-referential humor.
Well, Charlie and I have been talking about tomato-cuke popsicles, so don’t discount the possibilities.
I wouldn’t consider that dessert, but I’d eat it happily. (As long as it wasn’t sweet.)
Hey, Deron. Let’s see how many times we can use the same comment on different threads. Only let’s really not, because I don’t feel like it. Let’s just say we did. Okay?
Ice pops!
Yeah, that makes sense.
If not for the fucking sticks, I would love those. My favorites, I believe, would be Peach-Ginger and Grapefruit-Campari.
Cindy, let’s devise a good alternative to the hated sticks. Something other than plastic.
How are you with the compressed paper sticks or loops once used for lollipops (suckers)?
You could of course serve an ice in a paper cone, but my friend was actually pondering making ice pops and selling them at the market out of a cooler, so a stick-like handle would be good, I think.
I have a finger stump I’ll volunteer.
Must be willing to drive to Hanover (Illinois).
Mallard Capital of the World.
Okay, I can’t do the paper, either, for reasons I’d rather not go into. Deron’s stump is a good option–I’ll take the grapefruit/Campari on a finger stump. I think maybe skinny forks would be good. I like stainless steel. A stainless skewer would be nice. And reusable. No sticks, no paper. Stumps or stainless for me.
Porcelain?
I actually thought of that and backspaced out of it. It would be beautiful but impractical. I don’t want anyone to go to too much trouble. The stump will be fine.
Yeah, that makes sense.
Metal hurts my teeth, so I think Deron’s stump is what is required. Let’s get him up here for next weekend’s farmers’ market.
Plaster cast.
I’ve been growing the most delicious cukes. A 6-year-old boy was over here and I gave him one and he kept saying “it has stickers.” I said that’s because these cucumbers aren’t waxed. He didn’t understand about that. He’d never seen an organic cucumber fresh off the vine, no wax. I will say these are pretty close to heaven, stickers and all.
The cucumber plants started producing like mad when the cleome began to bloom. Cleome on one side of my little garden fence, cucumbers on the other. The honeybees would show up for the cleome, get drunk, then blindly zigzag over to the cucumber blooms. And that, folks, is what it’s all about.
Drunk on “pretty close to heaven.” That’s what it’s all about.
Thank you, Cece.
I wish you were here to enjoy them with me, Rick.