IRENEVIRAG

M y husband doesn’tfish, hunt, play golf orhang out in bars. He

hangs out in our vegetablegarden. Like a lot of malegardeners, he has a thing forgrowing tomatoes — especial-ly heirloom varieties likeBrandywine, Box Car Willieand Striped German. Hedrools over Swiss chard andeggplants and nurtures lettuceand broccoli. He even gets akick out of radishes.And he’s practically

dewy-eyed when it comes tosquash. Butternut, acorn,cocozelle, pattypan, whatever.Once my husband grew a10-pound zucchini and insist-ed I take his picture with it. Iwas surprised he didn’t try tohang it over the fireplace.But it wasn’t until two years

ago, while buying tomatoes atthe Peconic River Herb Farmin Calverton — where ownerCris Spindler features a num-ber of engaging vegetables —that he discovered the squashof squashes. An Italian nativethat my garden books callRampicante Zucchetta orTromboncino. Like Box CarWillie tomatoes, it’s an heir-loom vegetable, which meansit’s a cultivar of a plant that’sbeen grown for at least 50years.Cris called it by its common

name — cucuzz, or phonetical-ly, cagootz, with the accent onthe last syllable.The seedlings seemed

mild-mannered in their cellpacks, but by any name orpronunciation, cucuzz is anin-your-face vegetable. It isbig — really big. If my hus-band didn’t trim it back, thevine would have taken overour fence, our arbors andmaybe even our house. Thelime-green fruit followed suit— reaching 3 or 4 feet inlength. Most of the squasheswere curved, shaped like thickscimitars or musical instru-ments, while a few grewstraight and resembled noth-ing so much as baseball bats.He took one of them to the

office and wallowed in egogratification. “Cucuzz,” hesaid as if he had been born tothe Italian idiom. “I grew itmyself.”Along with praise and

strange looks, he also got arecipe. “It makes a greatstew,” a photo editor told him.“Or you can fry up the blos-soms.” We tried the stew andit was terrific — actually theflavor is best preserved if youharvest the fruit at about 18inches. Although, we did putone of the extra-large base-

ball-bat beauties to anotheruse. We kept it in the pottingroom as a decoration for atleast a year before it started to

go bad. It complemented thewallpaper and it was a won-derful conversation piece.“What’s that?” visitors asked

the minute they saw it.My husband had his answer

down pat. “Cucuzz,” he said. “Igrew it myself.”

So you can imagine histerror this season when hewaited too long to check withCris. She was out of cucuzz.She didn’t even have one leftfor herself.I have to admit that I shared

some of his consternation. Youbecome accustomed to thefaces of your garden. Likelacecap hydrangeas and bluesalvia and tomatoes and egg-plants, the squash of squasheswas integral to our summers.We checked our nursery

roster and, not only couldn’twe find cucuzz, we couldn’talways find people who knewwhat it was. And then in thefading days of June, workingon a lead from a friend of afriend, we found Giro DiLillo,who is only 36 but is wisebeyond his years and operatesPrianti Farms in Dix Hills withhis uncle, Robert Prianti.“Someone told me you have

this particular squash,” myhusband said on the phone. “Ithink it’s called cucuzz. It getsvery big and. . .”“Yeah,” Giro said. “We got

it.”“Wow! I can’t believe it. I’ve

been looking all over. I . . .”Giro politely ended the conver-sation and got off the phone.He probably thought he wastalking to some kind of crazyman, which — well, I’m notgoing to go there.As it turned out, Prianti

Farms, which Giro’s grandfa-ther started in 1924 when heemigrated from Brooklyn, sellsall kinds of flowers and shrubsand is a regular Italian smorgas-bord when it comes to vegeta-bles. According to Giro, about80 to 90 percent of the vegeta-bles are grown in the green-houses at the nursery, whichcovers more than 31/2 acres.Prianti’s features an extensivearray of tomatoes, a glossary ofpeppers with descriptivenames like Banana Supremeand Inferno, plenty of eggplantvarieties and herbs and, heartof my husband’s heart, cucuzz.“Sometimes people buy it by

accident,” Giro grinned. “Ofcourse, Italians like it. Webarbecue it — slice it up, putsome olive oil and rosemaryon it and put it right on thebarbecue. You have to catchthem before they get huge. Mygrandfather used to fry theblossoms. He’d say to mygrandmother, ‘Mamma, canyou fry these up for me?’ ”According to Giro, who had

started the day picking goose-berries at his home in Dix Hillswith his children, 8-year-oldGiro Jr. and 3-year-old Gianna,cucuzz is becoming more andmore popular each year.I can understand why. But

I still don’t know what it isabout men and vegetablegardens. Sometimes, I thinkthey all suffer from zucchinienvy.

gardens

No squashing his love of cucuzz

NEWSDAY PHOTO / TONY JEROME

It’s an impressive squash, this Rampicante Zucchetta, or Tromboncino, also known as cucuzz(pronounced “cagootz”). For some devoted gardeners, it can become nearly an obsession.

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