Category: UY

It’s a gourd! It’s a squash! It’s zapallo!

squash

My volunteer garden gave us a zapallo like this for dinner last night. Deliciously smooth and sweet, unlike others that we thought were of the same variety.

On this plant, they start out looking (well, sort of) and tasting like zucchini, then they get big and long, and even bigger, and if you leave it until the stem dries out, they will keep all year in a dry place (except that they didn’t last year).

Do an image search for zapallo and you’ll see a boggling array of shapes and colors, including some that look like pumpkins, which is how the word translates. Those with very orange flesh are called zapallo cabutia. All very confusing.

Plus that word is pronounced sa-PAZH-o here.

Related: Monster squash

¡Estoy rico!

Even agressive Photoshop filters don’t make them particularly interesting.

Actually, they belong to my neighbor, whose two remaining guinea hens were pecking at the feet of one of them, which is almost interesting. In a limited way, on an off day.


Cow gaze: you can almost sense the intense cerebral activity.

 

Fence permit?

No, you cannot install that fence because…

…well, depending where you live, you might think the statement continues, because you don’t have a proper permit.

The passageway for cows and machinery, in which I planted fruit trees that will have to move, included a gate only on the road, leaving the back open. To prevent the cows in the back from destroying the fruit trees, I cut out a section of (useless) fence elsewhere, and dragged it to the offending gap, but I could not install it.

Because immediately two neighbors showed up, and next thing I know they had done it for me.

My volunteer garden

zapallo squash growing in Uruguay

A monster zapallo plant spreads like crazy behind the chiquero, or pig pen.

At least I think it’s the same type as last years’ monster squash, which you may recall grew everywhere.

squash

Poking around, I found this phallic offering concealed among the leaves. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be this shape, or if it’s a small round squash that decided to get long, or if it’s a monster squash in its infancy. Given that confusion, there’s only one thing to do: cook it.

Peaceful resting place

Our dog of twelve years, Karma,  developed a tumor about six months ago, six months after I thought we would have to put her down because of a cyst forming on her spine. But she happily walked to the beach every day, and we watched carefully for any sign of discomfort, since we let the last dog Pandora hang on too long.

Last Friday, the tumor – size of a baseball – doubled (or more) in size, and the dog wouldn’t lie down or even sit, but stood all day, panting, or following us around. Our lovely country neighbor, a vet, came with her father in the evening, did an exam and announced that it was an edema which would rupture in a day or two – very ugly. It was our decision, but the dog actually made it. Calmly lay down on its side for the first time that day, eager for relief.

Digging the grave was hard – not emotionally so much as physically: clay.

Third pet buried in nine months:

Zeus: 4/29/2012

Peepers: 10/12/2012