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‘You can take the boy out of Russia but you can’t take Russia out of the boy’ Shane thought watching Ilya’s attempts to conquer the weeds in the garden.
Well, you probably wonder how they got here so let me take you back couple of years. It all started with Shane complaining about herbs quality in the nearest supermarket. Their dill, basil and cilantro did look defeated and lifeless laying on the countertop and begging to be discarded.
‘Not to worry’ stepped up Ilya. ‘A lot of Russians keep dachas for growing these things. Am sure I can do same here at cottage’.
‘What? Ilya, no. It takes a lot of work, we don’t have time for this. And it’s probably not safe for consumption anyway’ Shane protested.
‘I’ll only plant things that grow easy. And your parents can water them when we are away for training and games. Would be safer too – no excessive chemicals, you can check everything yourself. It’ll be fun!’ Once Ilya decided on something, there was little chance to stop him. So Shane reluctantly accepted this new domestic challenge.
It started really low key – just a few rows of herbs in a shy corner of the property. Out of sight yet no so out of mind. Once Shane tasted that free-range non-processed produce, he could only praise its superb quality. That gave Ilya one of the broadest grin ever seen. And his obsession evolved from there.
Next season twenty plants of cherry tomatoes were added to the spread. Those required significantly more attention than the herbs, so a portable greenhouse was bought and erected beside the garden beds. The war on weeds was proclaimed and to Shane surprise his parents were completely on board with all of it, tending to theirs ‘offsprings’ while Hollanovs played in the play-offs.
To say those tomatoes were delicious would be an understatement of a year – sweet, thin-peeled and juicy they just blew up in one’s mouth. Yuna and David were equally intrigued with this new hobby and impressed by its results. They even decided to start a little herb garden for themselves.
So next season brought something new. Ilya dug several individual holes and planted meekly looking seedlings in them. Shane didn’t think they would survive but when they were back from a Conference Finals huge leaves could be seen in that area and Ilya seemed to be satisfied with those.
July came and brought few lazy off-season weeks and Sveta’s visit to the cottage. Days were filled with lying in the hammock, diving and swims, home-cooked food and laughter. On their last night together Ilya cooked some sort of pancakes and Sveta was squealing at the sight.
‘Ilya, no! You haven’t!’ she gasped.
‘Yes, I have’ came the reply.
‘What’s going on? Are those significant in some clandestine Russian way?’ Shane wondered.
‘Nah. Just vegetable pancakes. You remember deruny we’ve tried in that Russian restaurant?’
‘Potato pancakes? Sure. But these don’t looks the same though. Did you use a different recipe?’
‘No, just make out of zucchini. The ones that we have grown.’
‘Oh. Those plants with big leaves?’
‘Yes. They behaved well and gave a big harvest. Now I make pancakes.’
Shane tried one and admitted they were really good, especially with sour cream. ‘Don’t mind if you do’ he mumbled with his mouth full.
‘Wait till you have those breakfast lunch and dinner’ warned Svetlana. ‘You’ll be singing a different tune then.’
‘There couldn’t be too many of them. I think there were only several plants’ Shane countered.
‘Ah! But that is the Zucchini Magic! No matter how few you plant in the beginning of the season you always end up with too many produce’ Sveta tried to explain. Shane just shrugged it off. This couldn’t possibly be true, it just wasn’t logical.
Next morning Sveta was leaving when she stopped and looked suspiciously at her suitcase. ‘Илюха, ничего не хочешь мне сказать?!’ she yelled.
Ilya emerged from the kitchen with his car keys in hand – he was driving her to the airport. ‘Не понимаю, о чём ты’ he said innocently. But Shane – and, probably Sveta too – could see him suppressing a grin. Sveta huffed and opened her suitcase for inspection. Tucked in the middle of her things were two zucchini lying innocently and silently.
‘Идиотина, меня же могут на таможне с ними принять, а я даже знать не знаю, что они там!’ she screamed at him. Ilya smiled ‘Had to try you know. There are too many of them. Even Mama and Papa Hollanders say they had enough.’
‘Ilya, did you try to smuggle zucchini into United States?! Without Sveta knowing?!’ Shane was exasperated.
‘Yes. Yes! Too many of them. And I don’t want to just throw them away, I’ve put work into those. So what else could I do?’
‘Well, not this’ was the unanimous answer from Shane and Sveta. ‘You should’ve just ask, Ilya’ Sveta added. ‘I have some friends I can regift those to, so I really can take a couple. Just not in secret, you know.’
‘Oke, that was stupid. But please take them with you, please, Sveta. They are everywhere.’
‘Regift?’ Shane wondered. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Ah, see, this is a July ritual in Russia. Once the zucchini season starts, there is a competition – who can rid of more produce while receiving less. Because everyone with dacha has them, sometimes even if they didn’t plant any. So you offer them to all you relatives and neighbours and hope they accept if they don’t have too many of their own. Or you swap different species. So it’s a big zucchini cycle all over.’ Sveta explained.
‘You have very strange rituals in Russia for sure’ Shane decided. Ilya was in the corner giggling and wheezing over the whole situation and Sveta’s commentary.
‘Yeah, we’re a strange bunch sometimes. But just you see if your parent start growing those. You already have too many but from two households… Phew… There will be some battles fought.’
‘Ilya, we are not planting those next year’ said Shane with as much conviction as he could master.
‘Of course, любимый. Whatever you say’ answered Ilya with zero plausibility.
Sveta left for airport laughing out loud. And with four, not two zucchini in her luggage.