sunday ritual

My new favorite color is the fiery orange of butternut squash, sliced open, the pulpy part.  Crazy in love, as in I might paint my bedroom this exact hue if the infatuation continues.  I almost forgot how brilliant it is, so clandestine and completely disguised by the milky pale and passive color of its skin, something spectacular that I tend to take for granted when I don't split the gourd myself to see the before and after.  But no, then I'll wake up every Sunday morning and any other day, I suppose, and just as soon as my eyes open, thoughts of squash will fill my mind before anything else has a chance.  Even breakfast.  I think I prefer the empty canvas of my white walls.  Makes for a wider array of possibilities.  

Last Sunday I woke up bound and determined to bake a pan of pumpkin bread pudding.  I strayed a bit, but not regrettably so.  My friend Susan declared this the best dish we've ever made together.  She shares my love of eating (and cooking) and over the past four + years that I've been lucky enough to know her, we have eaten (and cooked) some food. 

The result of our latest undertaking was autumnal perfection on a plate.  Or in a bowl, or coffee cup, or whatever dish you choose to use.  Pino Luongo suggests a three pound butternut squash is all you need for four servings.  You are a master, Pino, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this recipe, but if I may say so, you do not give your roasted squash enough credit.  I'd suggest that you, whoever may be reading this, get a heavier squash.  If you follow in our footsteps, you will eat a third of it right out of the oven before it even stands a chance of cozying up to the rest of the ingredients.  It is caramalized, tender, nutty and slightly salty just like it ought to be with a subtle hint of sage.  When combined with sausage, fresh pasta, and cheese, it's magic.  Make this, my friend, the whole dish.  And feed it to your cherished.


(please excuse the photography.  it's not the strong point of this effort, but it promises to improve)

Pappardelle with roasted butternut squash, crumbled sweet sausage, and sage

adapted from La Mia Cucina Toscana by Pino Luongo

2 lbs butternut squash pulp cut into a 3/4 inch dice (from a 3 lb squash)

2 bay leaves

3 garlic cloves

10 sage leaves

1 T brown sugar

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

sea salt and black pepper to taste

1 cup crumbled sweet sausage

1/2 cup dry white wine

1/2 cup rinsed and finely sliced leek, white and green parts

3/4 cup vegetable stock  *I needed about 1/2 cup more than this
1 lb fresh pappardelle

1/3 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano

Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Place 3 quarters of the butternut squash in a bowl.  Add bay leaves, garlic, 4 of the sage leaves, brown sugar, and 4 tablespoons of the olive oi.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Toss until well mixed.

Spread the mixture onto a rimmed cookie sheet lined with parchment paper.  Bake for about 40 minutes, until golden and caramelized.

Warm a nonstick pan over medium heat.  Add the sausage and cook until fat is rendered.  Drain off the fat, then add wine and let it evaporate, about2 minutes.  Set aside.

Warm 2 T of remaining olive oil in a saute pan over medium heat.  Add half the leek and saute until wilted, about 2 minutes.  Add the rest of the butternut squash and season with salt and pepper.  Add the stock and cook until the squash is soft, about 25 minutes.  (If the sauce is too thick once the squash is tender, add more stock and warm through).  Remove from heat.  When this mixture has cooled to just warm, process in blender or food processor to make a thin sauce.  

Warm the remaining olive oil in a saute pan large enough to hold the pasta.  Add the remaining leek and saute until translucent, about 3 minutes.  Add the sausage, remaining sage leaves, and roasted butternut squash (assuming you haven't consumed it all by this point) and cook for 5 minutes.  Add the sauce, stirring well, and simmer for 5 more minutes.  As the sauce is simmering, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

Add the pappardelle to the boiling water and cook until al dente.  Drain the pasta and add to the large saute pan, mixing thoroughly.  Sprinkle with Parmigiano.

Divide the pasta and sauce among individual plates and serve at once.

plan B. Basil is the word.

Autumn is quite the tease this year, isn't it? Just about the time I'm ready to be fully enveloped by it all - nippy air, crispy leaves, dewy grass, even shorter days, the bait is snapped back and a streak of heat smacks us from behind like a taunting younger sibling, then scampers away just as quickly as it came, snickering all the while.

Maybe summer is the true tease. I don't know.

I love all seasons but I have a special affection for fall. For the last few weeks of every August my body starts to crave heartier, spicier, warmer foods. I really should try to be more patient.

I made a quick trip to the farmers' market a few Tuesdays ago with every intention to leave with a sack of assorted root vegetables. On my walk I saw visions of swirling potatoes in all colors and sizes, beets ready for roasting, and dusty carrots and onions just begging to accompany a few chopped ribs of celery at the bottom of a soup pot. Until a quick shock to the nose from a huge bucket of basil shattered my daydreams like a jagged rock to a windshield. I kid you not when I tell you that I could detect the wonderfully unmistakable scent of basil from a block and a half away.

And the roots can wait!

This happened to be one of those warmer weeks, and because of this, I decided to go with it and buy only what wouldn't be locally available once the Season truly settles in and makes herself cozy. I left with 2 gorgeous Jersey tomatoes, red as rubies, a couple of ears of bicolor sweet corn, and an enormous bunch of that sweet, sweet basil.

Thus my basil cooking week, a kind of ode to the versatile herb, was born. I silently vowed to use every last leaf as I brainstormed ideas on the walk home. If you'd have seen this bunch you'd have agreed that this was a pretty lofty goal.

Anyway, let me get to the point of this post and tell you what I made.

There was garlicky basil pesto with gnocchi one night. Baked tilapia fillets were smeared with pesto and dusted with panko bread crumbs another night (so easy, and so so tasty). I cut the corn from the cob, sauteed in olive oil with garlic and shallot, then tossed with shredded basil and sea salt for a super quick side dish. I usually go for heftier pastas with some (forgive me) girth and bite to them. I think that, however, I'll forever make an exception for spaghettini with lemon, basil, and pecorino. I varied the original recipe found on recipezaar.com slightly by substituting pecorino for parmesan and grating it coarsely instead of finely. It also calls for 1/2 cup of olives, which I omitted. I'll share the recipe I made with you here:


Spaghettini with lemon, basil, and pecorino
adapted from recipezaar.com

1 lb dried spaghettini
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 handful fresh basil leaves, torn into rough pieces, stems removed
1 1/4 cups coarsely grated pecorino romano
sea salt and cracked pepper to taste

Cook pasta in boiling salted water until just al dente. As pasta cooks, whisk together olive oil with lemon juice in a bowl, then stir in cheese, salt, and pepper. Reserve a ladleful of water separately from the pasta pot before draining. (I forget to do this almost every time). Return pasta to the pot. Mix in sauce immediately and toss with basil. Add reserved pasta water one tablespoon full at a time, if needed, to thin out the sauce and to better coat the pasta. Serve immediately.




I also made a basil cheesecake, but I think I'll wait to share that recipe until I try making it again. The result was pretty good, but I actually preferred the raw batter to the baked cake. (In fact, I think it would make an amazing ice cream flavor: lemon basil cheesecake batter. Doesn't that just sound incredible?) I could (and did) eat it with a spoon.