Courgette Etiquette

Somewhere in America there must exist a television channel devoted to Etiquette. In the UK, we have Debrett’s. I’m not sure what the rest of the world does, and would not like to comment without taking the right advice.

Recently I was in need of etiquettal advice. Having mislaid the butler, I had no one to ask. I even looked online, but all I found was a page of vegetables in season. This solved another long-standing question of mine, but was temporarily filed in my brain. You see, I was searching what to do in the event that an acquaintance has the misfortune to plant courgettes and discovers, too late, that they are productive little things and can even become productive large things if ignored enough.

This phenomena is something we can no longer ignore.

I cannot think of a good way of refusing another courgette and chocolate muffin. I do not want extra courgettes to go with my courgettes. I love the things usually. I enjoy frying them, steaming them, preparing asian stir-fries, and all manner of savoury meals. However, I do object to being foisted upon. It affects my planning and it upsets the apple-cart (for apple-cart, read ‘veg box delivery‘ who deliver fine – if muddy – examples of all sorts of exciting vegetables in season and start you thinking what a sensible thing to do with chard might be).

There is a certain type of person who grows too many courgettes, and there is another certain type of person that they try giving them to. This may explain why Harvest Festival was invented. It is rude to appear ungrateful or arrogant in refusing fresh vegetables, which means that usually one obliges. Courgette ice-cream – why not? Courgette jelly? Great for kids. Courgette en croute? Deep fried courgette?

I have a better plan. Somewhere, and probably not in America, there must be a way of developing courgette energy into fuel for vehicles. (And I don’t just mean the self-propelled kind). This would use solar energy and the natural climate of countries like ours for a positive ecological purpose. And, perhaps more importantly, it saves us from the scourge of courgette chocolate cake.