My neighbors Bill and Jen, as I may have mentioned before, have an amazing garden where, on a typical Portland city lot, they grow enough herbs, vegetables and even fruit to pretty much last them through the winter. They also ferment a fair amount of the onions, beets and cukes in their raised beds, as well as canning and smoking albacore and salmon.

Needless to say, I'm gratified when they ask me to babysit their garden in the summer when they're out of town, harvesting whatever looks good—which is, needless to say, just about everything.

This last week they were visiting friends in Alaska who are fishing for salmon this time of year, so I was told to help myself to the beans, zukes, tomatoes and anything else that was ripening. The costata romanesco, a ribbed zucchini, my favorite type, and another variety, the rampicante, also delicious, were putting out flowers with abandon, so I snipped a dozen of the male flowers—not the ones that eventually grow a squash but are simply a flower on a stem—and brought them home.

I had a few padron peppers that had come with my CSA share from Cully Neighborhood Farm, so stuffed squash blossoms with blistered peppers sounded like a perfect snack for a leisurely happy hour on the patio. No recipe was required, just zhuzhing some cream cheese for stuffing into the blossoms, rolling them in flour and egg, then frying in hot oil. You could make a schmear with smoked fish, too, or combine herbs, chopped hot peppers and a melty cheese—think jalapeño poppers—or any other combination that appeals at the moment.

Inspiration is what this time of year is all about, so my advice is to get creative and make the most of the season. Time's a-wastin'!

Stuffed Squash Blossoms

10-12 squash blossoms
2 oz. cream cheese
1 green onion, green parts only, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, pressed (or mashed and finely chopped)
1-2 Tbsp. parmesan, finely grated
Salt
1/2 c. flour
2 eggs, whisked well
1/4 c. canola oil

In a small mixing bowl, combine the cream cheese, green onion, garlic and parmesan. Salt to taste. (As noted above, you can make the stuffing with whatever soft filling suits your fancy.)

Put the flour on a plate or flat-bottomed pan (like a cake pan or wide pasta bowl). Whisk the eggs in another cake pan or wide pasta bowl.

To prepare squash blossoms, take a paring knife and make a slit from the base to the top of one side of the blossom. Open the blossom carefully in order to remove the hard yellow anther—it is edible, so this is not strictly necessary, but I'm not fond of its texture. Then, depending on the size of the blossom, use anywhere from a teaspoon to a tablespoon to fill the base of the blossom. (It will take less than you think, and a little goes a long way.)

Fill all the blossoms, twisting the flower tops to help close the blossom, then heat the oil in a large frying pan until almost smoking (300° is the target temperature). While the oil heats, take four blossoms and roll them one at a time in the flour to coat, then roll each in the egg, then roll in the flour again. Make sure the slit in the blossom is closed so the filling won't leak out—this is why you don't want to overfill with stuffing—and place the blossoms in the hot oil. Fry until golden on one side, flip over with tongs and fry the other side. Repeat with remaining blossoms.

Shower lightly with salt and serve.

I'm not a woo-woo sort of person. Pragmatism runs deep in my veins, but recently it's been feeling like the universe is pointing me in the direction of fermentation. Not in a Portlandia "I can pickle that" way, though the show definitely picked up on a trend here with almost every chef in town featuring her own house-made pickles on every plate.

Granted, for several years I've been saying "This is the year I'm going to learn to make pickles!"—or kimchi or sauerkraut or whatever. And the year comes and goes without much progress being made, though I've participated in a few pickling sessions with friends. One of those sessions involved making pickled onions with my neighbors Bill and Jen, who have a huge garden on their city lot and preserve a great deal of what they grow every year.

When I dropped by their place to pick up some cucumbers the other day, Jen brought out one of two thick, three-ring binders full of favorite family recipes that her grandmother had carefully typed out—color me envious! It included one from her great-grandmother for fresh cucumber pickles that are ready in 24 hours. Need I mention that anything quick and easy has my name written all over it?

And indeed, when I got home, I sliced up those cucumbers, salted them down per great-grandma's instructions, made the brine, and a couple of hours later had two quart jars of pickles sitting in the fridge. I admit I sampled them before the 24 hours had gone by and they were delightful. So good, in fact, that they ended up coming with us that very evening as part of an antipasto platter we were taking to celebrate our friends' new home.

As for future fermentation festivities? Turns out the universe wasn't done with me just yet. Dave gave me a copy of Sandor Katz's The Art of Fermentation as an anniversary present, so expect to read about those adventures in future installments!

Great-Grandma's Fresh Cucumber Pickles

From my neighbor Jen.

5-6 cucumbers, about 8" long
1 medium onion
3-4 Tbsp. salt
2 c. cider vinegar
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. water
Optional: mustard seeds, peppercorns, fresh dill, dried chiles, whole garlic cloves

Slice cucumbers into 1/8" coins. Slice onion into quarters lengthwise, then into 1/4" slices crosswise. Combine in large bowl. Add salt and mix. Place in refrigerator for 90 minutes.

While cucumber mixture is soaking, in a medium-sized pan heat vinegar and water to a bare simmer. Add sugar. Stir until it dissolves, then add any desired spices (mustard seeds, pappercorns, dried chiles and garlic cloves). Allow to cool slightly.

When cucumbers are ready, rinse in several changes of running water, draining thoroughly between rinses. (Great-grandma says to rinse until they no longer taste of salt, but mine never did get to that stage.) Drain thoroughly. Pack cucumbers and onions into quart jars, layering them with spices from the brine and the fresh dill. Pour brine over packed cucumbers, using a chopstick inserted down the side to press out air bubbles as much as possible. Cover with lid and put in refrigerator. The pickles will be ready in 24 hours. Makes approximately 2 quarts.