It's happened to all of us who like to grow okra. You harvest the first tender pods, turn your back for a split second, and the renegades turn into beasts. Somehow they missed your eye and grew into mammoths. Tough, stringy, and magnificent. I can't stand to throw them in the compost. So I just bring them in, stand them up in a stemless wine glass, and put them front and center.
The tender youngins are simmering on the stove. Stewed okra recipe to follow. . .