In the Garden – Crooked Cucumber Harvest

I’m not going to make any claim to Zen other than the fact that I write a lot about green tea and often have to delve into meditation and tea ceremonies. I’m hard pressed to find any Zen in my life. It’s not my aesthetic and not my disposition. It would be nice if it were, but I’m perfectly content that it’s not. 

Truth be told, I do remember recoiling when I first read about minimalism. I just couldn’t imagine applying those principles to my life. I could see how it would make other people feel lighter and more purposeful, but I had a pretty good idea of who I was. 

I have changed over the years. I’d like to think I’ve mellowed and my understanding has grown, but at the core, my personality remains the same. This is also true for my tastes and preferences. I thrive in my colorful clutter, in my numerous collections reeking of nostalgia and sentimentality. It’s not all who I am, but it does describe me well.

That’s not to say, of course, that I don’t agree with the Zen teachings I read about in my research; I do. They tend to be very wise and insightful. Still, when I came across the story of Shunryu Suzuki, the monk credited for bringing Zen to the US, I can’t help balking at a certain concept presented in his anecdote about his early training years.

Apparently, Suzuki was belittled by his first master. The teacher called the young boy a “crooked cucumber,” which is synonymous with being useless. Now, I have no idea what kind of ninny Suzuki might have been as a little boy to be called that, so my judgment isn’t cast upon that bit of cruelty.

My bowels got in an uproar about the term crooked cucumber having the meaning of “useless.” And, apparently, it’s a common idiom in rural Japan. As you may know, I garden, and from time to time, I’m able to scare up produce from my efforts. Where cucumbers are concerned, mine has a propensity for coming out crooked.

This worried me in the beginning and had me running in a panic to Google to find out the reason for the shape and to see if it renders the cucumber inedible. After much scanning (it definitely wasn’t hardcore research), I learned that the probable cause was either inconsistent watering (guilty!) or poor pollination, and that it was perfectly fine to eat.

So, long story short, we’ve been eating crooked cucumbers just fine, proving them far from useless. And much like a perfectly functioning crooked cucumber, Suzuki proved himself perfectly useful, even achieving a level of fame in his persuasion. So, here’s to all the crooked cucumbers of the world, both literal and figurative!

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How are your cucumbers? Straight? Crooked? Warty? How do you usually consume them? I like them in salads, sandwiches, and kimchi.