COURGETTISON!
Since my birth, I have been on the front line of the campaign against courgettes. In fact, as the founding mother of the International Federation Against Courgettes (IFAC), I have clocked up 17 years of protest, yet these green gangsters are still sprouting in their masses. Worst of all, they appear to be the one vegetable that is not seasonal and is ‘locally grown’, so there always seems to be one knocking around the fridge. Sigh.
If we’re getting into the nitty gritty here, I suppose there might be one or two curious readers desiring a ‘valid’ explanation as to why I believe courgettes to be the devil’s work. Thankfully, after finding myself defending this cause to many, I can dissect exactly why.
In a word? Texture. Texture, texture, texture. I’m not a monster - these giant weeds are (quite) interesting to look at - but fundamentally, if there was a Tinder equivalent for finding your perfect vegetable, I would be ticking the box marked ‘does not taste like a half cooked slug’. #sorrynotsorry.
Bafflingly, they are one of those vegetables which Jamie Oliver would describe as ‘humble’, ‘really versatile’ and ‘full of flavour’.
My family are now scared of my reaction should I catch them red-handed crafting a courgette dinner. At first, there is a moment of silence, we're all in shock, then they find themselves beginning to sweat and stumble over their words, unconsciously covering up the chopping board, all in an attempt to justify that the dinner will be delicious because they ‘only put half in’. Missing the point entirely.
Dad, back when he thought this was just a phase, would cut them microscopically small so as to ‘disguise’ them in various chillies and lasagnes. Mum always knew better: she knew that I would hunt them down and return them to the pan. But of course, there’s the guilt. It feels then like I’m inflicting a personal attack on the loving home cook who has prepared the meal.
Courgettes do have their uses though. Actually, they prove themselves to be a very handy tool in the judging of another individual. It is not uncommon for me to meet someone for the first time, and after establishing names, drop in the absolutely pivotal question: where do you stand on courgettes? The only way I can liken the feeling of finding another trooper is when you start talking to a stranger and find out that you're both Geminis (even though you don’t really believe any of that rubbish anyway), and suddenly your worlds have aligned.
Last summer, in preparation for The Grandparents, my mum baked a courgette, lemon and pistachio cake. An almost unimaginable combination. And yet, what I am about to share feels like a confession, for I have sinned... It was delicious.
Fundamentally though, this changes nothing. No vegetable should have to shapeshift into such an unnatural state as cake in order for it to be consumable. I know that for sure the next time you find yourself vibing in a trendy, vegan café, you will opt for a slice of the ‘Coffee Calling’ over the ‘Beetroot Bonanza’, no matter how moist it claims to be!
My views have historical merit: the Ancient Egyptians fed courgettes to baboons (though I guess they are our ancestors). The Ancient Greeks gave them to beavers, of all creatures. Apparently, the Romans actually ate them, but then, as John Cleese might say, what have they ever done for us?
Unfortunately, we courgette loathers are still a minority internationally. A phobia of the cooked cucumbers limits you from enjoying what various cuisines have to offer: ratatouille, numerous Greek dishes, Tunisian Ajloun Qura’a; the list goes on. I would be lying if I said it has not been testing over the years.
Just last year, caught off guard, I absentmindedly ticked the box to have the non-meat option for my much anticipated Year 11 prom. As a recent vegetarian, I was not aware of the risk. Having worked up a reasonable appetite dancing to the disappointing (yet typical) set list, let’s just say it was more than crushing to find a perfectly buttery, lemony, steaming plate of risotto placed before me, infected with you-know-what. Do not make the same mistake as I naively did: do not allow your secondary school commemoration to end in avoidable tragedy.
The IFAC is currently recruiting for passionate new members. Your people need you. Sign up today. Together, we will ban these beasts.
Iona Taylor, Year 12
If we’re getting into the nitty gritty here, I suppose there might be one or two curious readers desiring a ‘valid’ explanation as to why I believe courgettes to be the devil’s work. Thankfully, after finding myself defending this cause to many, I can dissect exactly why.
In a word? Texture. Texture, texture, texture. I’m not a monster - these giant weeds are (quite) interesting to look at - but fundamentally, if there was a Tinder equivalent for finding your perfect vegetable, I would be ticking the box marked ‘does not taste like a half cooked slug’. #sorrynotsorry.
Bafflingly, they are one of those vegetables which Jamie Oliver would describe as ‘humble’, ‘really versatile’ and ‘full of flavour’.
My family are now scared of my reaction should I catch them red-handed crafting a courgette dinner. At first, there is a moment of silence, we're all in shock, then they find themselves beginning to sweat and stumble over their words, unconsciously covering up the chopping board, all in an attempt to justify that the dinner will be delicious because they ‘only put half in’. Missing the point entirely.
Dad, back when he thought this was just a phase, would cut them microscopically small so as to ‘disguise’ them in various chillies and lasagnes. Mum always knew better: she knew that I would hunt them down and return them to the pan. But of course, there’s the guilt. It feels then like I’m inflicting a personal attack on the loving home cook who has prepared the meal.
Courgettes do have their uses though. Actually, they prove themselves to be a very handy tool in the judging of another individual. It is not uncommon for me to meet someone for the first time, and after establishing names, drop in the absolutely pivotal question: where do you stand on courgettes? The only way I can liken the feeling of finding another trooper is when you start talking to a stranger and find out that you're both Geminis (even though you don’t really believe any of that rubbish anyway), and suddenly your worlds have aligned.
Last summer, in preparation for The Grandparents, my mum baked a courgette, lemon and pistachio cake. An almost unimaginable combination. And yet, what I am about to share feels like a confession, for I have sinned... It was delicious.
Fundamentally though, this changes nothing. No vegetable should have to shapeshift into such an unnatural state as cake in order for it to be consumable. I know that for sure the next time you find yourself vibing in a trendy, vegan café, you will opt for a slice of the ‘Coffee Calling’ over the ‘Beetroot Bonanza’, no matter how moist it claims to be!
My views have historical merit: the Ancient Egyptians fed courgettes to baboons (though I guess they are our ancestors). The Ancient Greeks gave them to beavers, of all creatures. Apparently, the Romans actually ate them, but then, as John Cleese might say, what have they ever done for us?
Unfortunately, we courgette loathers are still a minority internationally. A phobia of the cooked cucumbers limits you from enjoying what various cuisines have to offer: ratatouille, numerous Greek dishes, Tunisian Ajloun Qura’a; the list goes on. I would be lying if I said it has not been testing over the years.
Just last year, caught off guard, I absentmindedly ticked the box to have the non-meat option for my much anticipated Year 11 prom. As a recent vegetarian, I was not aware of the risk. Having worked up a reasonable appetite dancing to the disappointing (yet typical) set list, let’s just say it was more than crushing to find a perfectly buttery, lemony, steaming plate of risotto placed before me, infected with you-know-what. Do not make the same mistake as I naively did: do not allow your secondary school commemoration to end in avoidable tragedy.
The IFAC is currently recruiting for passionate new members. Your people need you. Sign up today. Together, we will ban these beasts.
Iona Taylor, Year 12
