The saga of the Squash

About 2 months ago my mother gave me a squash, a happy present from the earth. This was no ordinary squash however, this was a squash of prodigious size and weight. It was so large that when I tried to put it under my shirt to pretend I was giving birth to a squash child it wouldn't entirely fit. Its impressive length and width made it a bit intimidating to fathom cooking. I had nighmarish visions of cutting it open and beginning to cook. .. and cook. . .and cook. . .and eat squash. . . and squash. .. and squash for the entire winter. However, last Saturday I mustered my courage, took the biggest knife in my kitchen, and pierced it's caulosed flesh, sealing my weekend fate to squashy endeavors and consumption. After cutting it into four very large hunks, I baked it with frequent bastings (bast: equal parts oil, & orange juice, seasoned with cinnemon, nutmeg, and a pinch of cardemon). It sizzled, and slowly softened, leaving in its wake an aromatic trail that filled the house with fallish sentiments. Once it was baked and cooled, the flesh was scooped and pureed with some sauted onions and garlic. I added to this (in my ultra glam large stock pot) enough chicken stock to get the consistency I wanted, a bunch of curry powder, tumeric, cracked pepper, coconut milk, coconut, and then some toasted black mustard and cumin seeds. After sufficient simmering it was slopped in a bowl, garnished with a drizzle of coconut milk and some chopped cilantro. So friends, give it a try, use that winter squash looming on your table, feed the world. Viva la calabasa!

Reuben shows off his new hair patches for the winter cold whilst lounging on my new flannel sheets, also for the winter cold.