Lemon Ricotta Orzo with Crispy Prosciutto

Not yet ready for pumpkin everything? Wade into autumn with this perfect blend of zesty lemon ricotta (remember summer?) and toasted walnuts with crispy prosciutto (hello, fall). Surprisingly easy to make, especially if you toast your walnuts ahead of time, and a delightful balance between tasting decadent and feeling light.

Ingredients
For the pesto:
1 1/2 cups packed basil leaves
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic
1 handful baby arugula
1 tbsp pine nuts
1 giant spoonfuls ricotta
Zest of 1 lemon
Generous drizzle olive oil
Slosh white or rose wine

For the pasta:
1 rounded cup whole wheat orzo pasta
1/4 cup toasted walnuts, coarsely chopped
(toast for 7-9 minutes at 400° until fragrant and golden brown)
2 slices prosciutto, diced (optional)
1 handful baby arugula
1 giant spoonful ricotta
Salt

Combine the pesto ingredients in a blender and blend till smooth.

Heat 1 1/4 cups water in a small pot to bring to a boil. Add the orzo and a pinch or two of salt, cover, and reduce heat. Simmer 8 minutes, or 1 minute less than package directions suggest.

Meanwhile, heat a nonstick pan over medium heat. Add a drizzle of olive oil, then scatter the prosciutto in a single layer to fry. Fry about 2 minutes, stirring halfway through, until crispy. Drain and set aside in a small dish.

When the orzo is done, return the nonstick pan to the stove and set over medium-low heat. Drizzle with olive oil, then add the orzo and pesto and fold to combine. Let heat through for about 2 minutes, stirring occasionally, then fold in your second heaping spoonful of ricotta. Add a handful of arugula, fold to combine, and turn off the heat.

Serve into soup plates, scatter liberally with prosciutto and walnuts, and serve hot.

Serves 2 with a side salad.

Foolproof Fusilli: All Roads Lead to Pesto

This, my friends, is a don’t worry dish. As in: Don’t worry. It will all turn out just fine.

Ingredients

3 cups corkscrew pasta (best: Eden Organic Kamut spirals*)

Olive oil

3-inch piece green garlic or 1 medium clove garlic

2 cups lightly packed fresh basil leaves**

¾ cups, rounded, coarsely grated Parmigiana Reggiano

A rounded ¼ cup lightly toasted pine nuts

1 medium leek, white and light green parts, halved lengthwise, rinsed well, and sliced into half rings

1 large zucchini, diced

1 can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained

Slosh white wine

½ pint cherry tomatoes, halved and sprinkled lightly with salt to draw out the flavor***

2-3 handfuls baby arugula****

Kosher salt

 

Bring a pot of salted water to boil for the pasta and cook according to package directions (you might want to start it about midway through cooking the zucchini, below).

In a food processor,***** combine ¾ cups olive oil with the garlic, basil, parmesan, and pine nuts. Blend until smooth, try a bit, and adjust ingredients to taste if needed.

Saute the leek in olive oil till soft over medium low heat, about 8 minutes. Add zucchini, raise heat a bit, cook, stirring only occasionally, for 5-10 minutes (the time will depend on how big your dice is) until the zucchini is just tender. If it browns here and there, all the better.

When the zucchini is al dente, add the beans and a sprinkling of salt and stir to combine. Continue to cook, stirring, for another couple minutes, then add a splash of wine to keep it from drying out. Stir once or twice, fold in the tomatoes and about half of the pesto, and turn off the heat. Stir in the arugula.

After draining the pasta, toss with about two thirds of the remaining pesto (enough to lightly coat it). Serve into soup plates, top with the sauce, and serve immediately.******

Serves 2-3.

*Not available in your area? Don’t worry. Any other corkscrew pasta will work just fine.

**Unexpected run on basil in your local grocery store? Don’t worry. Half parsley and half arugula. Trust me.

***Not available yet at your farmer’s market? Don’t worry. Dice a regular tomato or two instead.

****Forgotten in the cart/in the fridge/on the counter? Don’t worry. Tastes just fine without it.

*****Mysteriously misplaced? Don’t worry. Pulse in the blender.

******Guests stuck in traffic? Don’t worry. Leave covered in the pan on the stove. Or nuke in the microwave. Magic.

                                

Farroto with Roasted Kabocha Squash and Arugula

As promised, a roasted kabocha farroto from our Kansas correspondent.

If you have not tried kabocha yet, get thee to a grocery store. Unless you live in Sacramento. In which case, stay away from my squash.

Ingredients

Olive oil

A one-pound(ish) kabocha squash (a.k.a. Japanese pumpkin)

1 cup farro, rinsed and soaked for several hours

(soaking decreases the cooking time a bit)

3-4 cups veggie and/or chicken broth

1 large shallot, halved lengthwise and sliced into half rings

1.5 strip applewood smoked bacon, sliced

½ cup dry white wine

4 cloves garlic, pressed or chopped

2-3 handfuls baby arugula

4-6 tbsp chopped fresh sage

2-3 tbsp pine nuts

¼ cup Parmesan cheese, grated over a microplane

Salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

Rinse the kabocha squash and pat dry. Cut the top out as you would when carving a pumpkin, then slice in half from top to bottom. Scoop out the seeds, then slice both halves into even wedges (roughly 3/4" wide at the thickest part).

Drizzle a cookie sheet with olive oil, and arrange the squash wedges on the sheet, turning them over as you go so that both sides are lightly coated with olive oil. (Note that if you overcrowd, they won't brown well, so try to leave a little space between them.) Roast for 15 minutes, flip, and roast 10-12 minutes more or until lightly browned and tender without being squishy. Set aside to cool, then slice from the skins if desired (we like to leave the skin on about half the pieces—just make sure the skin you leave is smooth and unblemished) and cut into half-inch cubes.

Bring the broth to a boil in a smallish, covered pot, then turn down heat to low to keep warm.

Place a dutch oven over medium heat. Drizzle with olive oil, then add the bacon. Once these have browned some, remove from the pot and set aside. (You can also discard a bit of the grease from the pan if you wish and replace with olive oil.)

Add the shallot and cook 2-3 minutes until translucent, then add half of the garlic and sauté for a minute more so that it softens without browning. Next, stir in the farro and sauté for several minutes. Once dry, add the white wine and cook until the liquid is absorbed. Then begin adding the broth by the ladleful as the liquid continues to be absorbed. Cook the farro in this way for about 30 minutes, or until the farro is not crunchy and the grains begin to open slightly.

Meanwhile, place a separate pan over medium heat. Toast the pine nuts till golden, shaking the pan frequently, then remove to a side dish. Add a glug of olive oil to the same pan and add the other half of the garlic. Sauté for a minute, just until soft, then add the sage and sauté for a few minutes more until the sage is very fragrant. Set aside with the pine nuts and bacon.

When the farro is cooked, stir in the arugula, then add the bacon, sage, and pine nuts. Microplane a small amount of Parmesan over the top. Last, add the kabocha and fold gently into the farroto, trying not to smoosh the squash completely so that some of the chunks are left intact. Turn off the heat, add salt and pepper to taste, and serve warm.

Serves 2-4.

Warm Quinoa Salad with Roasted Kabocha and Pomegranate

After the husband reintroduced me to kabocha squash by way of a brilliant farroto he invented last month (coming soon to a blog near you), I became obsessed. (I say reintroduced because in retrospect, I have eaten it—and always loved it—in Japanese tempura, but never knew what kind of squash it was.) Roasted, kabocha tastes of toasted pumpkin seeds and squashy wonderment. You might think the latter is more of a delirious rant than an actual taste. Roast some yourself and see.

This recipe calls for enough kabocha to make about 2 cups cooked, plus 3-5 extra wedges for snacking, because I am a realist, and realists believe in accurately predicting the amount of a given ingredient that will make it past one's mouth and into the pot. Also because it allows you to have the following conversation:

You: Would you like a slice of kabocha?
Other person: Kabocha?
You: KABOCHA.
Other person: Is it good?
You: KABOCHA.
Other person: What?
You (mouth full): Mmrmph.

Ingredients
1 kabocha squash (weighing about a pound; or sub butternut squash)
Olive oil
1/2 cup quinoa
3 inches of a medium leek, white and light green parts, halved lengthwise, rinsed well, sliced
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
5 oz veggie and/or chicken broth
2 oz. baby spinach or arugula
Seeds of 1/2 pomegranate
2 tbsp pine nuts, toasted in a pan until golden brown
Freshly ground white pepper

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

Rinse the kabocha squash and pat dry. Cut the top out as you would when carving a pumpkin, then slice in half from top to bottom. Scoop out the seeds, then slice both halves into even wedges (roughly 3/4" wide at the thickest part).

Drizzle a cookie sheet with olive oil, and arrange the squash wedges on the sheet, turning them over as you go so that both sides are lightly coated with olive oil. (Note that if you overcrowd, they won't brown well, so try to leave a little space between them.) Roast for 15 minutes, flip, and roast 12-15 minutes more or until lightly browned and tender without being squishy. Set aside to cool.

Meanwhile, rinse the quinoa and let soak in cold water for 15 minutes.

Heat a pot over medium heat. When hot, add a glug of olive oil. Saute the leek with a pinch of salt until it softens, then add the garlic. Saute a minute more, add the quinoa, and stir a few times. Pour in the broth, cover the pot, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low and simmer for 15 minutes or until liquid is absorbed.

While the quinoa is cooking, slice about 3/4 of the kabocha squash wedges out of their skin and cut into 1 inch pieces. (You also have time to seed the pomegranate and toast the pine nuts here if you want.) The rest of the squash is yours for the snacking.

When the quinoa is done, fold in the squash very gently (to avoid smushing it) and let heat through, then turn off the heat and cover the pot. Toss the baby greens with a little bit of olive oil and a spoonful of sherry vinegar so that the leaves are very lightly coated. Pour the quinoa-squash mixture over the greens, and let sit for 2 minutes to slightly wilt the leaves. Toss gently, sprinkle with salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste, and serve topped with pine nuts and pomegranate seeds.

Serves 2 as a main dish or 4 as a side.

One-Pot Pasta with Fresh Basil

If you're anything like me, there's nothing less motivating than the prospect of cooking lunch for one.

Here's what happens. Somewhere around midday, if I'm working from home, I think of something I'd like to eat. And then I think about the number of pots involved, and the fact that I will be the only one eating...and perhaps most significantly, the only one cleaning up afterward...and that dinner comes after lunch, which will mean even more cleaning. Then, in response to this disheartening realization, one part of my mind earnestly tries to convince the other part that a spoonful of peanut butter is really a very well-balanced meal, if you think about it, because it contains protein and um and uh protein and well anyway there would only be a single utensil to wash afterward. (Inevitably, five minutes after I implement this idea, I'm both hungry and glaring at the stupid spoon sitting expectantly in the sink.)

So the other day, I am in exactly this situation—post-peanut butter, pre-spoon-cleaning—and thinking guiltily of the rampant African blue basil on the balcony that has grown to the size of a small elephant in the moist summer heat. A gangly, adolescent elephant. It was gazing reprovingly at me through the balcony door window.

I thought about how I should prune it, and how I was hungry, and how I needed to stop anthropomorphizing plants. (This last part I may have said aloud to our houseplants, Ellie and Beatrix, who nodded knowingly in the circulating air from the ceiling fan.)

And then, less than twenty minutes later, I was sitting down to this. The ingredients can be prepared while the pasta water is coming to a boil. The water boils quickly, because you can use a small pot. And most magically of all, everything happens in that one small pot—leaving you just one thing to clean up afterward.*

Plus it's like mac and cheese comfort meets homemade pesto gourmet deliciousness.

Ingredients (per person):

1 small to medium clove garlic, unpeeled

A bit more than 1 cup whole wheat fusilli pasta**

A big bunch of fresh basil (say, 2 generous handfuls...you'll want about 1/2 cup chopped)

1-2 oz grated extra sharp cheddar (or sub Parmesan, Asiago, or any full-flavored cheese)

Olive oil

Any other pasta-y ingredients that happen to be languishing in your fridge (optional)***

A scattering of pine nuts (optional)

Salt & freshly ground black pepper 

Bring a pot of water to a boil for the pasta (a 2 quart pot is fine for a single serving). Toss in a 1/2 tsp salt.

While you're waiting for it to boil, wash, dry, and chop up the basil (you want enough for about 1/2 cup chopped), grate the cheese, and assemble any other ingredients.

When the water boils, add the garlic clove and the pasta. Boil for 7 1/2 minutes or follow package directions, until al dente. 1 minute before the pasta is done, fish out the garlic clove, rinse briefly under cold water, peel, and smash or chop.

Drain the pasta (directly from the pot if you can, using the lid, to save yourself the bother of cleaning something else), and replace the pot full of pasta back on the stove. Drizzle with olive oil, stir in the garlic and basil and any other pasta-y ingredients you've decided to add, and let sit one minute to warm through. Add the cheese and pine nuts and stir gently until the cheese melts. Sprinkle with black pepper, and serve.


*And the fork, technically. And a plate, if you're being all formal.

**If you're looking for the best store-bought whole wheat pasta by far, ever, look no further than
Eden Organic Kamut spirals.

***e.g., a spoonful or two of roasted red pepper tapenade, a chopped artichoke heart, a little diced tomato, and/or a scattering of chopped parsley.

The Food in Our Food

In light of the recent media commotion over the ammonia-washed waste trimmings in our beef and caffeine-and-benadryl stuffed chicken (who are apparently also fed their own feathers, laced with arsenic and old lace...I mean, delicious anti-microbials), you may be finding yourself craving some food that didn't come from an industrial farm.

For example. You know those nasturtiums growing in your back yard? Turns out they're delicious. And rarely fed feathers or washed with ammonia. It's like a win-win situation.

To make them the centerpiece of your dinnertime salad, whisk up a vinaigrette of olive oil, sherry vinegar, salt, and pepper, drizzle lightly over baby greens and toss well. Top with diced grapefruit or pomelo, lightly toasted pine nuts, and a little crumbled goat cheese. Scatter with nasturtium petals and/or whole flowers, and serve alongside roasted beets, or risotto, or sablefish.

None of which have ever been ingredients in dog food. There's something comforting about that.

Conquering the Cauliflower, Phase I: The Iron Skillet

It has long been my dream to conquer the cauliflower. Partly because of the alliteration, and partly because—let's face it—the cauliflower is unexciting. Bland. Boring. Unmemorable.

There's nothing wrong with it...it's just not the sort of vegetable one would rave about. No one has ever been moved to expound upon the cauliflower. No sonnets have been written. No Trojan ramekins delivered. No exclusive cookbooks devoted to the cause. (Okay, probably this last one's not true. But you get the idea.)

Except that then, one day, we ordered some cauliflower at Tuli Bistro, and I realized the error of my ways. Cauliflower, it turned out, was neither bland nor boring. Steamed cauliflower is bland and boring. Boiled cauliflower is bland and boring. Cauliflower done right is momentously, shockingly delicious.

Ingredients
1 head cauliflower (green* or white), divided into smallish florets
Olive oil
1 yellow onion, halved and sliced into thin half rings
2 tbsp golden raisins
1 tbsp pine nuts
1/4-1/3 cup veggie broth
Kosher salt
Freshly ground white pepper
Lemon wedges

Heat a large cast iron skillet over medium heat. When hot, add a generous glug or two of olive oil, and swirl to coat the pan. After a few seconds, add the onion. Saute, stirring occasionally, until the onion softens and begins to smell sweet.

Push the onion to the side of the pan, and add the pine nuts to the other side. Stir until lightly toasted on one side, then combine with the onion and continue cooking until the onion just starts to turn golden here and there. Add the sultanas, stir once, then add the cauliflower and stir to combine. (If you had a large head of cauliflower, you may run out of room...just stick the rest in the fridge for later rather than overflowing the pan.)

Drizzle liberally with more olive oil and pan-fry for 4-5 minutes, stirring from time to time. Add a pinch or two of salt and a slosh of broth (just enough to create some steam -- about 1/8 cup), cover, and turn the heat down to medium-low. Steam for 12-15 minutes, checking and stirring at 3 minute intervals (and adding a little more broth when it starts to dry out again). The goal is for the bottom to turn golden brown (without burning), while the cauliflower cooks through. So, if it starts to brown too much, turn the heat down a little and add a bit more broth. If it's not browning at all, turn the heat up a touch or wait longer before stirring, and don't add more broth yet.

When the cauliflower is nicely browned and tender (a fork should insert easily), turn off the heat. Sprinkle with a salt and white pepper to taste, drizzle very lightly with lemon juice, stir once, and serve. Garnish with lemon wedges on the side.

Serves 3-4.

*Green cauliflower, it turns out, is higher in protein than the white variety. Also it's green. Also cauliflower is a complete protein (who knew?). Also—did I mention?—it is shockingly delicious.

Pasta with Pea Pesto and Bacon

There are approximately ten billion varieties of basil now growing in our garden. Or four, if you like precision, but you know what I say? I say precision is for bakers. Bakers can have four varieties of basil. I have ten billion. Ten billion basils basking in the sun, reminding me incessantly of pesto. I'm like the greedy cartoon characters with dollar signs in their eyes, only mine are full of pasta.

The thing is, though, they are small, fledgling basils. Not yet fully grown. And when you have only ten billion (four) fledgling basils, you can't really make pesto. You need, by my hyperbolic calculations, approximately six gazillion fledgling basils to make pesto. What's a slightly unhinged, grant-deadline-racing, pesto-obsessed cook to do?

Answer: Peas. (Other possible acceptable answers include: 42, and get some sleep for goodness sakes.)

Seriously, make this. It's delightful. If you have fresh peas, use them, and I'm thinking that some asparagus thinly sliced at an angle would make it even better.

Ingredients
Fresh linguine or tagliolini for two
1 1/2 cups frozen peas, blanched and drained
1/3 cup packed fresh basil leaves
(use a bit more if it's regular sweet basil, or a bit less if it's a stronger variety like fino verde)
2-3 tbsp lightly toasted pine nuts
2 large cloves garlic, one whole and one slivered
Olive oil
2 slices Niman Ranch applewood smoked bacon, sliced crosswise into thin strips*
Dry white cooking wine
Several handfuls baby arugula and/or coarsely chopped amaranth greens (1/3 lb or a bit less)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus a few shavings for garnish
Freshly ground white pepper

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil for the pasta.

Combine the peas, basil, whole clove of garlic, and pine nuts in a Cuisinart and blend until smooth.

Heat a wide saute pan over medium heat. When very hot, add just a bit of olive oil, followed by the bacon. Cook until it starts to turn golden (you can remove some of the bacon grease at this point, if you want, and add a bit more olive oil in its place), then lower the heat and toss in the slivered garlic. Cook for another minute or so until the garlic is tender.

Add the pasta to the boiling water and cook for 1 to 1 1/2 minutes or until al dente.

Meanwhile, add the pesto to the bacon and stir to combine. Allow it to warm through, then add a slosh of wine to help thin. Turn off the heat, and add the greens.

Reserve a ladleful or two of pasta water, then drain the pasta and add it to the pan with the sauce. Toss to combine, adding pasta water as needed to thin the sauce (add just a little bit more than you think you need if the pasta is homemade, since it will soak up a bit more liquid on the way to the table). Stir in the grated parmesan.

Serve hot, with a little freshly ground white pepper and some shaved Parmesan over the top.

Serves 2.

*If you double the recipe, you only need three strips of bacon (rather than four).

Best. Squash. Ever.

We're completely addicted to Delicata squash, but roasting it and filling it with sauteed leeks and sage and toasted pine nuts takes that obsession to a whole new level.

Ingredients
Olive oil
2 Delicata squash of similar size
A small handful of pine nuts
1 small to medium leek, white and light green parts, minced
8-10 fresh sage leaves, sliced into thin ribbons or chopped
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

Preheat oven to 375. Rinse and dry squash, cut in half lengthwise, and scrape out the seeds. Rub cut face with a little olive oil and place face down on a foil-lined baking sheet. Roast for 25-35 minutes until they just start to soften slightly.

Meanwhile, heat a small pot over medium heat. Add the pine nuts and toast, stirring or tossing occasionally, until they begin to turn golden. Push to the side and add a generous glug of olive oil. Wait for a few seconds till it heats, then stir to coat the pine nuts. Add leeks and continue to cook for several minutes, stirring, until they soften. Add sage and a pinch or two of salt, cook for another minute, then add white pepper to taste and turn off the heat.

Turn squash cut side up on the baking sheet. Spoon the leek mixture into the squash halves, spreading it evenly along each one, then return them to the oven for an additional 5-10 minutes until the squash is just soft enough that it gives easily when a spoon is pressed into it.

Serve hot. I just found out that you can eat the skin of a Delicata squash and it's often delicious (thanks, Dad), but we thought this version was even better just scooping out the insides. This would be a good dish for a dinner party -- fancy-looking and fancy-tasting, but pretty much a breeze to make.

Serves 4 as a dinner party side dish when everyone is on good behavior, or 2-3 if you're unconstrained by social norms and can't help but go back for seconds.

Chayote (or Zucchini) Stuffed Squash

Just when we thought the produce in our produce box couldn't get any more exotic, these appeared.

It seems to me that even the most stalwart of vegetable adventurers might be forgiven for taking one look at these and stashing them in the depths of the vegetable drawer for a couple of weeks.

Fortunately, they keep well. When a second round appeared in our box again last Friday, I resigned myself to having to actually figure out what on earth to do with them.

Step 1: Consult handy weekly insert that explains what on earth is in the box. Insert calls them "chayote." Hello, chayote. You look weird. Not that weird is necessarily a bad thing.

Step 2: Consult the Google. A Wikipedia entry helpfully notes that these are also called choko and pear squash and a handful of other names, and says they are native to Mesoamerica. Also they are edible. Good to know. There are a handful of online recipes, many of which pair it with cilantro, which would require a trip to the store, and some of which suggest peeling it. This is comforting: One is not required to eat the spiny outcroppings. I peel one. It looks light green and shiny and, compared to its pre-peeled state, reassuringly domesticated.

Step 3: Gaze half-heartedly into the depths of the fridge for inspiration. Notice the Thema Sanders Sweet Potato Squash (also from the CSA box, shaped like an acorn squash but colored like a butternut) languishing on the top shelf. (No, I do not know why we put it in the fridge. It's been that sort of month.) Precipitously decide to try something random and hope for the best.

Ingredients
1 acorn or sweet potato squash, halved, with the seeds scooped out
Olive oil
1/3 cup chopped onion
1 rounded tbsp pine nuts
1 chayote, peeled, grated, and squeezed gently to drain excess liquid
   (or substitute a zucchini)
A small tomato, diced
1 tbsp chopped flat leaf parsley
Salt and pepper
A pat or two of pastured butter

Preheat oven to 375. Brush the cut surface of the squash with olive oil and set face down on a foil-lined baking sheet. Bake for 20-30 minutes until it starts to get tender (when you poke the outside of the squash, it should give a little).

Meanwhile, heat a pan over medium-high heat. Add the pine nuts and toast until they start to turn golden, then add the olive oil and the onion and cook, stirring, until the onion starts to caramelize. Turn the heat down to medium, then add the chayote and saute for about 2 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes, a pinch or two of salt, and a liberal dousing of freshly ground pepper, and cook for another minute or two. Last, add the parsley and butter, stir until melted, and turn off the heat.

Turn the squash cut side up. Fill each half with the chayote mixture, then return to the oven and bake for another 10 minutes or until the squash is very soft. Let cool for a few minutes, and serve.

Serves 2, and makes for a good dinner party side dish (relatively simple for something that ended up looking so fancy, and got high marks taste-wise from our house guests this weekend).

Squash, and the Zen of Cooking

The school year has started, and with it, the typical fall onslaught of meetings and manuscripts and grant deadlines and teaching and treading in a sea of urgent emails. A few nights ago, I dragged myself to the car after a ten-hour day only to get stuck in a freak traffic jam for an hour, then arrived home and realized I still had six things left to do after all, and my husband was going to be stuck at the hospital until 9. I thought about my sanguine summer self with a kind of wistful resignation. My mind felt vaguely like it had been run over by a truck, I was sleep-deprived enough that my eyes hurt, and the last thing I remotely wanted to do was cook an involved dinner out of stupid, non-microwaveable, time-consuming whole foods. I wanted a packet to open and dump into a bowl, or a can, to open and dump in a bowl, or something hot and salty and deliverable. I wanted to lie on the couch and not move except for chewing purposes.

But, we were out of cream for coffee in the morning. So I at least needed to go to the coop and get cream. And while I was there, I could pick up a less-processed-than-most-processed-things processed thing from the deli. And I could bring it home, and stick a fork in it, and then stick the fork in my mouth. Yes. That is what I would do.

So I went to the coop, exhausted, and I walked in the door, exhausted, and I walked over to the dairy case, except that on the way there I noticed the avocados. And then I got distracted by pea shoots. Plus they have this amazing house made Andouille lamb sausage, which would be pretty easy to cook. And figs. And delicata squash.
In just a few minutes, my basket was full.

I came home, still tired but less so, and started peeling cucumbers, and picking up big fistfuls of pea shoots, and slicing into the squash, and thinking about where these plants came from and how they were harvested, and how before that they sat out in a field eating energy from the sun and transforming it into leaves and shoots and seeds, and how we then take that energy and transform it yet again. And suddenly, instead of feeling exhausted, I felt happy and energized, like when you think you're too tired to go for a swim or a run but then feel enlivened halfway into it. I sliced and chopped and  roasted and pan-fried, and we ate a late feast.

So what I'm saying, I think, is that this food thing is important. I'm going to try, very hard, not to lose it in the shuffle.


Roasted Delicata Squash

Ingredients
Delicata squash, halved lengthwise, with seeds scooped out
Pasture butter
Pine nuts (optional)
Freshly grated nutmeg

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Place the squash halves cut side down on a large piece of foil on a cookie sheet. Bake for 15 minutes, then turn cut side up. Flake just a little butter into each half, and sprinkle with some pine nuts.


Fold the foil so it covers the squash and continue cooking until tender (about 15-25 more minutes). Grate nutmeg over the top, let cool for a couple minutes, and serve.