Winter squash is the sort of thing I rarely cook because I rarely think about it, and when I do cook it, I always wonder why I don't think about it more often.
It's just that good: nutty and hearty and supremely satisfying. It's a little bit sweet, like a softer version of a sweet potato, and I rarely cook sweet potatoes because I never think about them, either.
Winter squash is the general term for a large number of varieties of squash, but the most common are butternut squash, acorn squash and spaghetti squash. Basically, if it is squash and it has a thick skin and it's harder to cut than you think it's going to be, it's probably winter squash.
Even so, if you want to be technical about it _ or even accurate _ winter squash is neither grown nor harvested in the winter. We just eat it now because it can easily be kept fresh throughout the season.
That butternut squash that you buy today was picked last fall, but it is just as scrumptious as it was when it came off the vine.
You can eat winter squash plain or pair it with cheese, butter, maple syrup or brown sugar _ basically anything to take advantage of its natural taste of sweet nuts.
You can turn it into soup, but I've made a lot of soup this winter, and I'm getting a little tired of it. You can even turn it into ice cream.
I turned it into ice cream, and it was shockingly delicious. But ice cream is for dessert, so I am going to talk about it last. You have to eat your vegetables, by which I mean your winter squash, before you can have dessert.
At least the vegetables are first rate.
I began with the simplest and probably the most common method of making it: I roasted an acorn squash with a little butter. That is excellent as it is, but frankly it is a little too easy for a food story, so I dressed it up in the tiniest possible way by adding honey to the butter.
It tasted like when you have been shoveling snow for too long and you are practically frozen solid and you come inside and you want something soft and substantial and filling to warm you thoroughly from the bottom of your soul to the tips of your hair. That's what it tasted like, only with a little honey.
I stayed on the sweeter end of the spectrum with my next dish. Butter is a must when roasting winter squash, and maple syrup is one of the classic ingredients to pair with it. But I went one step further, bringing out the squash's caramel notes by adding a bit of bourbon. I mixed it all together to make a bourbon-maple glaze that was, if I may be a little immodest, spectacular.
And I didn't stop there, though you may want to (and it is absolutely delicious the way it is). I borrowed a Swedish method for baking potatoes and used it on the squash. I made numerous thin slices most of the way through the squash so it resembled an accordion, or perhaps a file cabinet. That way, when I brushed the glaze across the top, it ran down between each slice.
It tasted as good as it looked, and it looked amazing.
The next dish, Parmesan-Butternut Squash Gratin, is a strictly savory offering. The squash _ butternut, again _ is roasted, but this time it is coated in garlicky butter and a mixture of panko bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese.
The squash is sliced thin, so the butter and garlic really permeate each piece, and the panko-and-Parmesan mixture on top adds a most delightful crunch. It is a most agreeable and even comforting dish.
I stayed in the savory realm with my next dish, Spaghetti Squash and Bacon Fritters. I always find spaghetti squash frustrating because, although it looks cool and fun to eat, it tastes like air. And you can't fool me by putting spaghetti sauce on it, because then it just tastes like strands of air with spaghetti sauce.
But fritters? Fritters are something else. I mixed the spaghetti squash strands with eggs, flour, Parmesan cheese, green onions and chopped bacon, and then I fried discs of the mixture in olive oil.
Essentially, I made potato pancakes with spaghetti squash _ and I even served it with a topping of sour cream with chopped green onions.
I'll never look at spaghetti squash the same way again.
And then there was the ice cream, butternut squash ice cream. It doesn't have a big, big flavor of squash, and the taste is perfectly complemented by a good hit of cinnamon _ another ingredient that always goes well with butternut squash.
It takes some effort to make. You first have to roast the squash with a little butter while you also steep cinnamon sticks in milk. You puree the squash as smooth as you can (a food processor works well for this), and then make a custard from the cinnamon-infused milk, egg yolks, sugar and just enough heavy cream. Then you mix the pureed squash with the custard, let the mixture chill overnight and then freeze it in an ice-cream maker.
A lot of work, yes, but it is easily one of the best ice creams I have ever made _ and it tastes like butternut squash.
I really ought to remember to cook with that more often.
