You could say that the Sicilian vegetable cucuzze embodies the most uninspiring aspects of the squash family: their freakish proportions and overblown curves, their watery, spongy flesh that tastes of almost nothing. They are everywhere in mid-July; the definition of a glut. What’s more, they don’t fit. Like a teenager after a growth spurt, but before new clothes, cucuzze seem too big, they hang off market stalls like feet off the end of the bed, stick out of crates and topple out of even the biggest bag into the road. The word cucuzza is used in various proverbs, standing for anything or anyone who is intrinsically insipid. Yet, despite this, perhaps because of some of it, cucuzze are beloved, and an absolute mainstay of the summer diet in Sicily.
Left to their own devices on the vine, the long, smooth pale-green cylinder of this particular Sicilian squash will curve. We have bought home one in the shape of the letter C, also a question mark that was competition worthy, and a long baseball bat, which Luca swung wildly. If the vines are trained, though, cucuzze grow straight, reaching up to 180cm (6 ft) long.
We usually buy our cucuzze from Giuseppe, who farms the land almost exactly where Vincenzo’s nonno (grandfather) farmed, which earns him serious family respect. His produce is superb. He trains his cucuzze, so they don’t get too long or freaky. They still poke out of the crate in his garage-come-market stall run by his wife, Rosa. Also poking out are bunches of tenerumi, the stalks, velvety leaves, buds and tendrils of the cucuzza plant, huge, disobedient bunches that don’t need so much trimming as taming.
With cucuzze, their weakness is their strength: their spongy flesh. It reminds me of the memory foam you find in some mattresses. Their almost total absence of flavour is the ultimate in cooling food. Like lettuce, endive and cucumber, it refreshes the system. However, unlike salad, which is a crisp whip against summer lethargy, cucuzze dabs you on the head and tells you to go and lay down in a dark room. It also cleanses the system, apparently, which is wholeheartedly embraced and discussed at the dinner tables in Sicily.
In their cooking, cucuzze need allies, such as olive oil, chilli, garlic, salt and tomato extract, which they have a remarkable ability to absorb, and at the same time mute. Diced cucuzze is used to make a favourite summer soup with sliced onion, a little diced potato, along with just enough tomato extract to make it blush. The soup is served just-warm or, in my family, cold. As odd as it may sound, it’s just the thing for tormentingly hot days.
Another way with cucuzze is to cook them slowly in their own juices with olive oil, garlic, chilli and salt, a half-fry, half-braise I think of as “smothering”, bringing out the best in the vegetable. This works just as well with courgettes or marrow; if they are oversized, with the sort of curves that would make a supermarket embarrassed, all the better. Smothering takes time, and you need to stay near the pan, first frying, then adding water, keeping an eye while the cucuzze braise. In time, the liquid evaporates, leaving tender chunks in a soft, oily sort-of-sauce that is just right for pasta.
Cucuzze or courgettes with pasta is such a mild dish, it needs a good finish. This would usually mean breadcrumbs, toasted in a little olive oil, something you often find bowls of on Sicilian tables. However, the other day we drove – as Vincenzo has done each summer since he was a boy – along the coast, to a town called Scoglitti, for a fish supper. One antipasti was a fish called spatola with a breadcrumb and almond crust. At first, we didn’t get the almonds, just a lovely flavour, so we sat chewing with can’t-put-my-finger-on-it faces. Vincenzo was the first to get it, almonds, toasted so giving the breadcrumbs a rich, nutty texture with crunch, there was a hint of lemon too. I knew straight away the idea was a keeper, and just the boisterous thing for a mild mannered dish of pasta.
Pasta with courgettes, breadcrumbs and almonds
This recipe also works brilliantly with marrow.
Serves 4
4 courgettes or a long cucuzza
1-2 fat cloves of garlic
A pinch of red chilli flakes
6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Salt
500g pasta
A handful of dry breadcrumbs
50g blanched almonds, roughly chopped
1 Trim the courgettes, cut them in quarters lengthways and chop into small, even pieces. (If you are using cucuzza, you will need to peel them first). Peel the garlic, then either press it gently with the back of a knife or, for a stronger flavour, chop it.
2 In a large, deep pan, fry the garlic and chilli in 4 tbsp oil until the garlic is lightly golden and fragrant – you can now remove it if you like. Add the courgette (or cucuzza, or marrow) and add a pinch of salt, then stir so each piece is coated with oil and fry gently for a few more minutes. Add a small glass of water to the pan, then let the courgettes simmer until very soft and most of the water has gone. If they are ready before the pasta, pull the pan to one side.
3 Meanwhile, bring a large pan of water to the boil, add salt, stir. Add the pasta, then cook until al dente – around 8 minutes.
4 Heat 2 tbsp of olive oil in another small pan, add the breadcrumbs, almonds and a pinch of salt. Fry, shaking the pan, until just golden and toasty, then remove from the heat.
5 Once the pasta is ready, drain or use a slotted spoon to lift it directly from the water on to the courgettes. Stir, divide between bowls, then top with crumbs.
- Rachel Roddy is a food blogger based in Rome and the author of Five Quarters: Recipes and Notes from a Kitchen in Rome (Saltyard, 2015) and winner of the 2015 André Simon food book award
