I caught a squirrel climbing down my plum tree last week, munching a plum. I charged toward him, he dropped it, and bolted up a maple tree. I like to think he crapped in fear as he scurried up his tree. But that doesn’t get my plum back.

My suburban backyard is either dreadfully or delightfully full of creatures, take your pick. I found a baby box turtle meandering through last week — a baby box turtle! — and my neighbor claims to have seen deer sauntering through the lawns. These sitings expand the long list of residents, including birds, squirrels, possums, snakes, mice, moles and rabbits. Something is eating the chard. Cabbage loopers skeletonized a plant. 

And while a certain gray furry “natural predator” is taking a nap so profound it qualifies as a coma, the chipmunks are leaping through the air, performing flying high-fives on their way to my cucumbers. It looks like a scene from frakin’ Willard back there in the mornings.

So I hunted up the garden journal I kept back in my post-hippie, professional garden days to find the exact proportions for The Lethal Brew. It’s simple, but it used to work.

The Lethal Brew
Grate a couple of tablespoons of Ivory soap into 1 to 2 cups of water. Gotta be Ivory — the other bars on the market are detergent. Detergent harms plant foliage. Ivory is the last real soap, except for the handmade artisan types.

Throw in a couple of inches of a cheap cigar or a plug of chewing tobacco the size of a half-dollar

Add a hot pepper pod at least 2 inches long, or a spoonful of red pepper flakes

Let the brew soak for at l east 12 hours. Strain it and add enough water to give it a sprayable consistency. Spray it on plant leaves, tomatoes, apples every couple of days.

It still works — on some things. It stopped the cabbage worms and tarnished plant bugs (which suck the green out of bean leaves until the leaves look bronze).  It isn’t vile enough to keep the squirrels from eating the apples. Or rather, taking one bite of an unripe apple and then dropping it. And then doing the same thing the next day — how stupid are squirrels? And it doesn’t keep the rabbits (or some creature) from eating the chard. If you have a solution — besides a fence — I’m game to try anything.

Tupperware Avalanche is becoming an all-vegetable venue, and for that I apologize, so I’ll try to be funny or at least amusing.

Here’s our drawer of artisanal, seasonal, hand-grown marital aids. Hellooo big boy! If I were in charge of squash variety names, I’d go for the evocative: Hung Lo, Hoss, and GoodFellow (a great name for Italian zucchini varieties, I think you’ll agree).

(Speaking of which, have you seen this British commercial yet on YouTube? Food and sex, inextricably intertwined.)

The photo doesn’t really convey the volume of squash in the drawer; they’re three deep in places, so the five you can see cover about seven more. This photo was taken well after I cooked and photographed this roll call of squash dishes.

Squash Crab Soup — $15 a pot for a world-class, soothing, and devastatingly rich meal. Recipe below.

Thai Squid with Lemongrass and Basil (And Finely Shredded Zucchini That Fortunately Disappears When Cooked): hot, salty, sweet, fragrant. Served over shredded cabbage rather than rice — a Thai cook told me that a bed of cabbage is authentically Thai, not to mention carb-free.

Did I mention ratatouille, that hardy perennial? Saw the film Ratatouille last week, finally, after being reassured by Sweet Cheeks and others that “no, really, it’s a good story.” And it is, if you don’t mind the idea of rats in the dish water and dozens of rats swarming over the kitchen floor. I wasn’t able to suspend judgment long enough for the rat to fully self-actualize and become a sympathetic character. Call me intolerant, but I saw him and his buddies as just another 25-point health department violation.

Sausage and Zucchini Bake with a layer of cheese pasta on top that can be picked off for a carbless entree. As an extra bonus for visiting Tupperware Avalanche, I’m throwing in a photo of the patriarch, a genuine American orphan who pulled himself up by his bootstraps, and cleaned his plate even when he didn’t like what was being served. An example to all of us.

And for dessert, Squash Cake the First, nicely cinnamony and nutmeggy, topped with a homemade marshmallow drizzle and orange zest. Phwoar, as the British say. Cake The Second got a broiled topping of coconut, rice krispies, brown sugar and evaporated milk. It was pretty good but my broiler is like a blast furnace, even when set on “low,” so we picked off the burnt bits.

There you have it, and if you have a squash recipe for me to try, I’d love to have it, cuz I’m fresh out of ideas. The squash remaining in the drawer may have to go into the freezer so I can get some peace.

Low Country Crab and Squash Soup

I cooked my squash to a puree because I wanted a smoother soup. Stirred it in along with the water.
* 8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter
* 1 carrot, grated
* 2 small onions, minced
* 1 garlic clove, minced (or 1 teaspoon garlic powder)
* 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
* 2 lbs squash, grated
* 1/4 cup crab base or shrimp base or lobster base
* 1 quart water
* 1 lb crabmeat
* 1/2 cup flour
* 1 cup milk
* 1 cup half-and-half
* salt
* chives

Melt the butter in a 1-gallon pot and saute the carrots, onions and garlic until onion is transparent. Add the pepper flakes and squash and cook until squash is tender.
Add the crab paste and water and mix well. Heat to a simmer then add the crab meat. Heat through and taste the soup. Add more water if it seems to strong or salty (since soup bases vary in strength).
Whisk together the flour and a little of the milk to make a paste. Whisk in the remaining milk and half-and-half. Add the mixture to the soup. Cook, stirring, until the soup thickens, but try not to let it boil. Add salt to taste, if needed. Garnish with chives to serve. Makes 6 servings.