Friday, January 13, 2012

Squashed

We ate our last acorn squash from the farmer's market last night.  It was so delicious, with its sweet, bright orange flesh melting in my mouth.  We filled the cavity of our squash halves with couscous, sauteed onion and Granny Smith apple, along with a couple of dashes of cinnamon and nutmeg.  I savored every bite.  Not so Larry.  But he was still a good sport.  Larry's not a fussy eater but when it comes to squash of any kind, well, it's better not to talk about it.  While I adore all types of squash, Larry holds the firm opinion that squash is meant to be an autumn table decoration and never, ever eaten.  I persevere, however.  I try different recipes for summer and winter squash all growing season.  At last fall's final farmer's market, I happily stocked up on winter squash, thinking that I could enjoy it slowly over the winter.  Recently, however, I discovered that four of the six remaining acorn squash had gone bad in the refrigerator, their normally hard, vibrantly colored skins all soft, dimply and sad-looking.  I never like to waste food, particularly a favorite like squash, so I felt the loss deeply. I broke the news to Larry who looked sympathetically at me but who must have been secretly doing a happy dance that the "table decorations" had rotted and he was spared having to eat them.  While my locally grown squash-eating dreams are squashed for now, I'll remember the delicious taste and anticipate the next crop.

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