Let me start by saying I don’t like squash. I kind of hate it. It’s certainly not an aesthetic objection: nothing brightens up the drear of the fall farmers’ market quite like all the whimsical varieties of winter squash — impossible to resist! This combination of compulsive buying and strong dislike leads me to accumulate squash in the fall. Earlier this month, our squash collection reached critical mass and it was time for desperate measures. And so the idea was born: the week of squash. We would cook and eat a different squash each day for five days. At the end of the week, we would have finished our kuri, delicata, acorn, butternut and spaghetti squashes. And I would either have learned to love squash or never need to eat it again.

Day 1 Curried Kuri Squash Soup

Not wanting to be too ambitious the first day, I went for an old standard: squash soup. Most of the versions of this I’ve had are sweetened with brown sugar and pretty fatiguing after just a few spoonfuls. To try to make it a little more interesting, I attempted squash mulligatawny; a squash-based version of the citrusy Angl0-Indian soup. After peeling and steaming my kuri squash, I pureed the flesh with some of the steaming liquid, and added ginger and curry powder. Back in the pot, I added a bit of cream and some lime juice. For garnish, I made a mint-cilantro-garlic yogurt sauce, dolloped generously in the center

Squash Hatred Level: 6. The squash was pretty passable, but I think I was a little too heavy-handed with the lime juice; the soup was overly sour. The yogurt sauce helped improve the soup’s flavor, but as is often the case with squash soup (for me, anyway) a few bites was enough.

Day 2 Delicata Squash Enchiladas

This dish was inspired by a post on Serious Eats and an email I received from my Aunt Ann talking about having made enchiladas using squash with chard, feta and onions. I kind of took the worst parts of both of these ideas, ignoring their saving graces, and added some even nastier elements. So my ‘enchiladas’ contained: roasted delicata squash, kale, never-tender-enough-sauteed chard stems, charred red peppers and onions, and cilantro. After preparing my fillings and tossing them in a bowl with the recommended enchilada sauce, I rolled enchiladas, topped them with more sauce and covered the dish with a healthy (or hopefully unhealthy) dose of pepper-jack and put it in the oven to bake.

Squash Hatred Level: 8. The squash soup was not good, but it was okay. These enchiladas, on the other hand, were just nasty. Even as I was putting the recipe together, I could feel the train-wreck beginning. Eliminating the black beans and the feta was obviously a mistake. And in my overzealous cleaning of the crisper drawer I didn’t think about why combining kale and chard stems was a terrible, terrible idea. The only salvation for this dish would have been a lot more sauce and/or a lot more cheese, and preferably just those things. At this point I was getting pretty discouraged about squash week.

Day 3 Stuffed Roast Acorn Squash

With exotic reimaginings of squash having utterly failed me in the beginning of the week, it was time to turn to a stand-by. Growing up, this was how I knew squash: an acorn squash, cut in half, stuffed with pork sausage, and roasted until both were nicely browned. Of course, as a child, I would only eat the sausage, though I did eventually learn to also eat the squash, provided it was mashed together with plenty of butter, salt and pepper.

Squash Deliciousness Level: 6. This is actually a very good way to enjoy squash: pork loves a sweet compliment and finds a great one in the flesh of the squash, and the pork fat mingled tantalizingly with the squash. I hardly needed any butter at all!

Day 4 Spaghetti Squash and Broccoli Gratin

I suppose the star of this meal is actually in the background of the above photo: slow-cooked duck legs with a red wine pan sauce. But squash is the point of this post, and squash we did have to the side of our duck. For this gratin, I combined the flesh of a roasted spaghetti squash with steamed broccoli and a generous handful of New Zealand cheddar cheese in a buttered gratin dish. I topped the mixture off with bread crumbs tossed together with parmesan cheese and baked the dish until the breadcrumbs were brown and the cheese bubbly.

Squash Deliciousness Level: 4. This dish had a good level of sweetness without descending into sweet potato pie territory, and the combination of textures — the still slightly crisp broccoli, the gooey squash and cheese, and the crunchy breadcrumbs — was interesting and pleasant.

Day 5 Butternut Squash Spaetzle

I kind of dread butternut squash because it is so popular and tends to get so repetitive. How many butternut squash raviolis have you seen on restaurant menus in the past five years? So I was very grateful when Serious Eats featured a recipe for butternut squash spaetzle. I mean, I have long wanted to learn to make spaetzle, and if I could liven up squash week in the process, all the better. I also thought the recipe an appropriate wrap-up to squash week, since squash figures into the spaetzle dough as well as being a part of the sauce (I guess the ultimate wrap-up to squash week would have involved all five squash varieties in some kind of squash explosion but even contemplating that makes me a little sick). The recipe was pretty easy to follow; I only screwed up in over-cooking the maple glaze to the point where it wasn’t so much a maple glaze as maple candy. Luckily, the dishes were for Martha.

Squash Deliciousness Level: 8. This dish did a really good job of using the sweetness of butternut squash as an accent while bringing in a variety of other flavors and textures to avoid palate fatigue. Although recommended as a side dish, it made a great light lunch on a fall day.

And so the week of squash ended. Although it wasn’t planned this way, after a couple of rocky starts the meals got progressively better; by the end of the week I could even say I almost liked squash. I suppose I will be able to eat it in the future. But five days in a row again? Probably not.

Let’s be honest: I’m not the pickling artist in the family. Normally I leave these things to others, but something needed to be done with the two banana peppers from last month’s trip to the market—they were starting to look a little sad.

Wishfully thinking about pizza possibilities, I decided there was no choice but to pickle these babies. Tom was busy making dinner, so this had to be a Martha project. As Tom pointed out, a one-quart Ball jar wasn’t going to work for two lonely peppers. Not wanting to give up for lack of a not-too-big jar, I dug a Bonne Maman jam jar out of the recycling and set to slicing:

• 2 banana peppers, seeded and sliced into rings

Once I had the peppers sliced, I stuffed them into the jar.

For my pint-sized jar I needed a little under a cup of pickling juice. First question. What goes into the jars? (I guess I should have read this post a little more closely.) Tom normally uses two parts vinegar to one part water with 2 tablespoons of salt and adds sugar as applicable. Working with a small jar, I upped the vinegar a bit and brought down the salt:

• 3/4 cup white vinegar
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1/2 tablespoon sugar

With these four ingredients combined in a small pot over high heat, I opened the spice cupboard and asked a few more questions. Tom had advice for the pickling spices: garlic and mustard seeds were a must, and I offered up a bay leaf and red pepper flakes—then thought better of it—and opted for whole dried chiles instead.

• 2 small garlic cloves, smashed
• Pinch of mustard seeds (black, yellow, or both)
• 1 bay leaf
• 1–2 dried chiles, whole (or substitute a spoonful of red pepper flakes)

The next step is to add the pickling spices and garlic to the jar of peppers. Once the vinegar mixture has come to a boil, pour it over the peppers until it reaches the rim of the jar.

Done! Now our soon-to-be-pickles need to cool. After the jar and contents hit room temperature, cover, refrigerate, and enjoy in a day or two… preferably on pizza.

You’ve no doubt heard about the latest apple innovation from the University of Minnesota: the SweeTango. Hot on the heels of the success of the Honeycrisp variety, the world is abuzz about this apple that promises to out honeycrisp the honeycrisp: a juicy, tart, sweet and crisp apple. I’ve been a big fan of Honeycrisps since I was first introduced to them a few years ago, so I was very interested in trying SweeTango—a cross of Honeycrisp and Zestar. At Kowalski’s on a late-night ice cream run, I saw the big display of apples and, in spite of the stupid name, came home with a couple of SweeTangos.

I cut into the apple with great expectation and was rewarded with a hearty crunching sound as blades pushed through crisp apple flesh. And then the moment of truth: as I bit into the SweeTango, my mouth was filled with sweet juice. Almost immediately, I started to pucker; the substantial acid was kicking in. This apple really has it all: firm crunchy flesh, lots of juice and a perfect balance of honey sweetness and lemony tartness, both flavors in abundance. Martha, not a fan of apple skin, appreciated that the skin on the SweeTango is thick enough to be noticeable but not so chewy as to remain in your mouth after the rest of the apple has been eaten. The flavor is similar to a honeycrisp with its floral character, but is bolder.

This apple is amazing raw; quite possibly the best apple I have ever eaten. I am guessing it would also be great for baking with its balance of sweet and tart and big flavor. Although I’m not in the pocket of Big Apples, I willingly fall in with all the rest of the hype.

SweeTango apples are $3.99/lb. at Kowalski’s, or about $2/apple.

Last week, Martha came home with exciting stories and delicious bresaola from a butcher shop she found in Linden Hills: Clancey’s Meats and Fish. I had read about the shop on the Heavy Table, but had yet to go. Intrigued, I wanted to check it out. On Saturday after the farmers’ market we biked there. My plan was to buy some fatty pork for carnitas to go with the tomatillos, corn and tomatoes we got from the market, but when I got there there was some goat staring me in the eye, calling my name. Apart from the fact that they actually have goat, the best part about Clancey’s is that from the cuts offered in their cases, it’s clear that they’ve butchered whole animals themselves. The goat’s various parts were all in evidence and arranged together. Think of the supermarket butcher: 50 ribeyes from 50 cows. Although I have never made goat before, as soon as I saw this leg roast all my thoughts of pork went out the window.

The staff of Clancey’s suggested that I cook the goat as I would lamb, although better to braise it than to roast it medium-rare, which is my lamb-preference. I couldn’t really shake my carnitas idea, so goat carnitas it was. I was kind of surprised that Diana Kennedy’s The Art of Mexican Cooking contained not a single recipe for goat since I assumed for some reason that  goat was popular in Mexico. None of my other cookbooks were much help either, so I decided to wing it. I rubbed the roast down in a vaguely Mexican way (cumin, oregano, chile powder, black pepper, salt) and seared it. In went orange juice, lime juice, garlic and onions and then the pot into a 250° oven for a long, slow cook.

Of course, these goat carnitas were going to require some delicious fixins, and luckily the farmers’ market was able to provide. I used the most beautiful tomatillos of my life to make a salsa verde (with cilantro, garlic, onion and some lime juice). Martha used the first sweet corn and tomatoes of the season with cilantro, lime juice and green onions to make a corn salsa.

After three hours in the oven, the goat was tender but not falling apart. I pulled it to shreds with two forks. At this point I became a little concerned as I was hit with a smell that can only be described as “goaty.” Tasting the meat was reassuring; it was a bit like lamb and a bit like beef, with a deep flavor and very tender texture. I tossed it with a little of the salsa verde for color.

Maybe a taco is not the best way to appreciate the flavor of goat, but it’s not a bad way to eat goat. In fact, the acid of the salsas and sour cream cut through some of the meat’s earthiness. By the end of my third taco, my eyes were craving a fourth and my stomach was saying “no!” As usual, the eyes won out.

Last year Tom decided he’d like to start an herb garden on one of our window sills (After my agreement, this went into the grocery budget!). Living in a older brick building, we have the luxury of having large areas outside of every window on which to place planters. It’s true we have a northern exposure, but we have to be thankful for what we have, people. Since we had such a great summer of rosemary, sage, tarragon, thyme, peppermint, and oregano in 2008, this year, we decided to continue the garden.

As in ‘08, we headed for Mother Earth Gardens, where we originally purchased our window box and plants last year:

At Mother Earth Gardens we strive to provide you with beautiful plants and products, but a central part of our mission is also to choose plants and products that have been grown, produced and delivered in a sustainable manner. We talk about the following words in our buying and decision-making: organic, sustainable, local, family, independently and cooperatively owned.

Luckily, tarragon is an perennial. It came back all on its own:

On May 3 we planted (or replanted, the case of the tarragon pictured above):

• Oregano
• Spearmint *new*
• Thyme
• Sage
• Chives *new*
• Rosemary
• Tarragon

As of Wednesday, it will be 1 month since planting. I hope to be able to plot our herbs’ progress as the season goes on so that we can both have a record of their growth and share it with you. And, of course, expect to see [Tom's] entries on how we use the herbs in our kitchen.

Finally, I wanted to share a project from the weekend. Below are my newly acquired pots from my favorite Swedish store with extras from the work at Common Roots. We’re now officially out of soil, so I think this will be it for the season. Given that, I’m hoping these two bell peppers and a small crop of tomatillos will produce fruit. Tom, the doubter, isn’t sure we have the sun required. We’ll see. The first victory is that it is possible to water the plants *without* removing the screen (as long as the watering can is full enough).

As winter slowly releases its icy grip on the north, I get pretty desperate for any vegetable that isn’t a root. It is pretty exciting when green things start to reappear in the grocery, even if they have to be trucked in from California in late April. So it is with fresh fava beans, a clear indication that it’s spring somewhere.

And at only $2.99/lb, they’re a steal. Well, not quite. Most vegetables entail some amount of waste, and in the case of fava beans it’s a whole lot. The beans are encased in pods, like peas, and then each bean has a thick shell around it that also needs to be removed. 

How much waste is this? The total weight of everything was 9 3/8 oz (although the Wedge charged me for 10 1/4 oz—I wonder whose scale is wrong). The weight of the edible beanswas 1 5/8 oz, while the weight of the pods and shells was 7 7/8 oz (slight discrepancy here due to my scale being accurate only to somewhere more than 1/8 oz). Only 17% of what you buy is edible. $2.99/lb? In terms of food you can actually eat, it’s more like $17.50/lb. Yikes! Such is desperation for at the end of a long winter.

This wouldn’t seem so bad if you could come up with a useful way to employ the pods and shells. Anybody have any ideas?

I’m trying to decide what to make for the week and I’m in my usual bouncing around cookbooks I’m comfortable with. One of these is the CIA’s Gourmet Meals in Minutes. It occurred to me that I ought to share a little about this book with you because of how much I enjoy using it in my own kitchen. Gourmet Meals is an easy recommendation; it is a great cookbook whether you’re a beginner or a seasoned cook—I know I’ve sung its praises to many of your already. Some basic reasons this is a good buy:

• The photos in the cookbook itself are an inspiration to get cooking (hopefully some of the pictures from our table will inspire you, too). When I was just starting out in the kitchen, I had no sense of “that sounds good” from reading a list of ingredients or a recipe. But “that looks good” is a much easier thing to master. Tom gifted me the book a couple of years ago and the pictures were a big reason he chose it for me, knowing how visual I am in my approach.
• Everything can be made very quickly. They’re not kidding when they say “in Minutes.” 
• I don’t think I’ve made a single thing from this cookbook that wasn’t a pleasant surprise when it arrived at the table. Even when I’ve doubted things in the process of cooking they always turn out better than expected.

A few downsides:

• The book is presented in some ways as a party cookbook, so many of the recipes make a LOT. This can be a challenge when cooking for one or two, but I’ve found it an advantage in the past year as we intentionally plan for leftovers with all of our meals (we don’t actually buy any food specifically for lunch).
• Again, an up and a down… the book tends to use canned ingredients in many cases for the sake of time. But, it’s easy to sub in fresh things (like I did with the Thai soup below, using fresh Enokis instead of canned).
• When they say “gourmet,” they mean a huge variety from around the world. The diversity in this cookbook is a great thing, but if you don’t regularly branch out in the kitchen you may have to give your spice collection a boost and invest in some more “international” staples, if you will, in order to make some of the recipes. 

How much I’ve used this cookbook is the best evidence I can give in its favor. See below for what I think is a complete list with (an incomplete sampling of) photos from my kitchen. I can easily say that I credit this book with giving me confidence in the kitchen. I can be a little Amelia Bedelia sometimes, and this was the first cookbook that helped me make things that were approachable, quick, and pretty (!) at the table. I’m sure Tom is thankful I’ve gone beyond my rotation of macaroni & cheese, frozen ravioli, chili (from cans), lasagna, grilled cheese, cholé, Santa Fe chicken salad, Mexican pizzas, enchiladas, and taco salad… that’s a lot of cheese. 

Last week I made Thai Hot & Sour Soup with Enoki Mushrooms and Shrimp:

Here are a few other pictures that I hunted down in my photo library… Asparagus with Shiitakes, Bowtie Pasta, and Spring Peas:

Risotto with Scallops Shrimp and Asparagus (I love that this page is sticky and flecked with food, I’ve made this a few times!):

Fennel and Chorizo Strudels (why were the photos so terrible from this one?):

Belgian Endive, another not-so-fabulous photo (this one gave me a major oil burn on my foot. Lesson: don’t wear Mary Janes while frying),

Baked Goat Cheese with Mesclun, Pears, and Toasted Almonds:

Soba Noodle Salad:

Hlelem—a Tunisian Vegetable and Bean Soup:

Not pictured: Satay of Beef with Peanut Sauce, Reuben Sandwich, Grilled Steak Salad with Horseradish Dressing, Roasted Beet Salad, Seared Scallops with Fiery Fruit Salsa and Coconut Rice with Ginger, Spicy Vegetable Sauté, Goat Cheese and Red Onion Quesadillas, Capellini with Grilled Vegetables, and Cream of Mushroom Soup.

As a recovering ovophobe, I am very particular about how I like my eggs. Having spent 21 years of my life actively avoiding any egg not mixed into a sauce, dough or batter, even after I made the decision to start eating eggs I didn’t have much of a taste for them. So far, I have only dared to try scrambled eggs or eggs cooked well done, omelette style (well, more tortilla style). Some day I aspire to fried and poached eggs, but that day is a long way off. Even when eggs are cooked into a browned circle with ingredients I love, I dread the bites that, well, taste like eggs.

My solution? Hot sauce! Tabasco is my usual choice, but recently we had a jar of the Twin Cities’ own Salsa Lisa in the refrigerator . This is the only salsa available here that I think comes close to approaching the Michigan deliciousness of Jack’s. Be careful though, I am told it is only good in the hot variety.

Now doesn’t this frittata look much better?

While this won’t blow anybody’s mind for  being on the cutting edge of exotic ingredients, I have discovered recently that I have a deep love for harissa. At first I was just using it as it was called for in North African recipes, but I eventually realized that it works in a lot more. It is great on buffalo burgers with brie cheese. On New Years day I discovered that it helped to make a great spicy thousand island dressing. And, this weekend, the greatest revelation of all: as I was searching desperately for something to eat for lunch, I found a can of tuna (in olive oil). I grew up eating tuna mixed with mayo on saltine crackers (with yellow cheese and green olives!). This time, I thew a little harissa in with the tuna and ate the resulting mixture on rye hardtack with spicy pickles. It was good.

So if you need some spice and smoke with a peppery body to hold it up, I recommend getting a jar of harissa. As far as I can tell, it keeps a long time. I have had my jar in the fridge for well over six months, and I haven’t died yet.