My pots of basil are lush and full. The leaves leave a glorious scent. I snipped a few bunches just to put them in a glass of water. They perfume the kitchen. And now they’re growing roots. Can they be potted for the winter?
What else can I do to preserve my basil and have its leaves available to pop into winter pasta? Can I freeze the leaves? Dry them?
Batter up. I hadn’t checked my zucchini plant in the lower garden for a while–too hot last weekend to go down there. So what did I find today? A zucchini as big as a baseball bat–well, almost as big.
The trouble with zucchini that are overlooked is that they go wild–growing to enormous size almost overnight. Then, you’ve got a five-pounder on your hands. Plenty of food but a veggie that’s tough to eat. Literally. I love to slice up a normal-size zucchini into coin-shaped discs [about 1/4 inch thick], salt them, spread them on a plate and pop them into the microwave for anywhere from 8 to 15 minutes [depending on the size]. They crisp up into delightful little taste bites: The sweetness of the zucchini is distilled but the texture is as crisp as a top-notch French fry. But with a zucchini this size, forget about it. The crisp turns to rubber.
So what to do with my baseball bat? My plan is to grate it up and use it for zucchini muffins, zucchini bread and other oven-baked produce. The baking can take some of the toughness out. I’ll let you know which recipes work with a supersized zucchini.
Preservation of the tangy taste of basil–that’s what I’m after. I’m going to freeze a few leaves and see where that takes me. Any suggestions? My first attempt consists of laying the leaves out on a sheet of waxed paper, freezing them singly and then popping them into a freezer-proof plastic bag.
So, here’s step one:
Basil bound for the freezer
on its little boat of waxed paper.
A zucchini grows in Bethesda–in a pot. The plant in the deer-proof garden is swooning and failing to grow. The one outside the deer-fence is taking on some big leaves but not producing any zucchini yet. The pot, set up on the patio, gets a regular watering. Every time the leaves look droopy, the watering can comes out. And, the seed was sown in a fresh load of potting soil.
Not so for the garden down below. The soil there has more clay in it and I don’t visit it as often. It is at the perils of storms and droughts–though it does get a watering if it doesn’t rain for several days. That said, if this is a scientific experiment, I’d have to say the pots have it.
Out of town for two weeks. A neighbor waters the garden. What a surprise when we get back: In the deer-protected garden, an overgrown plot with half a dozen ripe tomatoes and dozens of over-ripe green beans. To say nothing of weeds. The zucchini is thriving and appears to have a baby zucchini on it. What a thrill to harvest the tomatoes, even if two have been started by slugs or small animals unknown to me.
But the beans! What can you do with the puffy, tough over-ripe harvest? I open a few to take out the beans–could these be planted for another crop of beans? 
[LJ says use them as you would dried beans. They take less time to cook--between, say, 25 and 45 minutes depending on how long they've been on the vine. Just simmer them in water to cover by 2 inches with some aromatics and a little olive oil for flavor. Like dried beans, they can go in soups and stews. You also can dress them in vinaigrette while still warm for a nice salad.]
Up in the herb garden, the mint is poking its heady stems out from under the hydrangeas and threatening to overtake the chive and parsley. I pull some of it from its roots. Some one has to take charge here. The basil is a castle in the air. It, too, needs a pruning, but not from the roots.
The pot garden is faring better. Nothing overgrown here. The tomato plant is hosting two teeny weeny green tomatoes. The zucchini appears to be bearing the smallest of fruit. But the leaves look healthy all around. They have survived my absence–thanks to a caring neighbor.
What of Les Jardins garden? She, too, was away for a few weeks. Her raised beds have gone to pot–nothing salvageable there. She calls it a disaster! But her tomatoes in a pot are glorious–rich and full leaves and plenty of starter tomatoes.
Pots seem to be the preferred way to go this wet year.