Squash

R. B.’s childhood campout hobo packet memories have inspired many of our favorite side dishes. He’s put just about every vegetable combo imaginable in a foil packet on the grill. Without added water, vegetables steam in their own juices and roast beautifully over the direct high heat of the grill. Even better and easier than the grill is the even heat of a hot oven. If there were a hobo packet merit badge, R. B. would have definitely earned it.

In the late summer and early autumn, in the interior of the island, the great harvests of pumpkin and squash are preserved by the farmwives in varied fashion. Often the flesh is cooked down to a marmalade and sparked with candied oranges, or poached chunks of it are set to rest in a sweet vinegared brine. Too, thick slices of poached flesh are often rolled around in a sugary syrup and left to dry. Of a most luscious flavor, this candied pumpkin is sometimes used with dark rum and a handful of broken, bittersweet chocolate, to make a tart like the one we were served in the village of Milo. I was dazzled by it. But when I heard of the perplexing process by which the tart’s author had candied the pumpkin (she began by saying that I should gather fifty to sixty pumpkins), I was slightly shaken. I found, though, that simply roasting the flesh of a pumpkin or squash and then bathing it in caramelized sugar gives a flavor similar and perhaps even richer and requires far less drama.

A simple-to-make and delectable little paste with which to dress just-cooked pasta, to spoon into vegetable soups, to thin with milk or vegetable stock into, itself, a fine soup, to stuff into fat, ripe tomatoes, to present alongside roasted meat or fish, to spread on great chunks of olive-oil-toasted bread, to eat with a spoon while waiting for bread to bake.

People think risotto is a super-rich dish, made with tons of butter. But when it is made properly, the richness comes from the starchy rice and the stock. To make perfect risotto, really pay attention to what’s happening in the pan. As the risotto cooks, stir it with a wooden spoon in rhythmic movements that go across the bottom and around the sides of the pan. The rice should be constantly bubbling, drinking up the liquid as it cooks.

I stole the marinade in this recipe from my husband. That strange combination of ingredients—toasted bay leaves, coriander, white pepper, honey, and sherry—lends an exotic and aromatic quality to the squab. Farro, Kabocha squash, and cavolo nero are three of my favorite things on earth, so in this dish, I just give in, sautéing them all together into a slightly labor-intensive but super-delicious “stir-fry.” I could eat it for lunch (or dinner!) every day. Embellished with a jewellike pomegranate salsa, this dish is a foray into the Near East.

Of all winter squash, Kabocha holds a special place in my heart. Rich and sweet, its dense orange flesh is one of my favorite winter flavors. For this soup, instead of sautéing the squash and fennel, I roast them in the oven to bring out their natural sweetness. If you can’t find Kabocha, use another winter squash, such as butternut or Hubbard. The pumpkin seeds, or pepitas, are coated in sugar, paprika, cumin, cinnamon, and cayenne; I think of them as adult Halloween candy. Sprinkled over the top, they give this delicious winter soup a feisty coronation.

Sometimes, in the middle of fall, usually just before Thanksgiving, it hits me: A desperate craving for pumpkin pie. One year, after a few days of my whining and hinting, pastry chef Roxana Jullapat came up with this delicious cake to shut me up. As comforting as that classic American pie but even better, Roxana’s pumpkin cake was super moist and infused with the spicy flavors of fall. And, knowing my love of all things crunchy, nutty, and salty, Roxana topped the cake with a generous layer of crispy pecan streusel. Though pumpkins have an esteemed place in our childhood memories, they actually aren’t very good to cook with—they’re often watery and usually lacking in flavor and sweetness—so we make our “pumpkin” cake with Kabocha or butternut squash instead. “Winter squash cake” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

This warm salad came about, like many of my dishes, as a way to show off one of my favorite ingredients—in this case, the lovely Kabocha squash. I roast the wedges of squash until they’re practically caramelized and then weave them into a salad of dandelion greens with a tart sherry vinaigrette. Tucked into the greens and squash you’ll find bacon lardons. Not to be confused with bacon bits, lardons are oversized rectangles of chewy, slightly crisped bacon, meaty and satisfying to bite into. Also hiding in the mix are salty toasted pecans and elegant shards of Roncal, an earthy sheep’s milk cheese from Spain.

There’s a moment in late May when something in the air shifts. Fava beans and other spring treats are still plentiful and the evenings are still cool, but change is coming. The air at the farmers’ market is suddenly humid with the scent of basil. Small piles of cherry tomatoes, summer squash, and fresh beans show up on the folding tables beside mounds of fresh corn. It’s as if summer is testing the waters, seeing if we’re ready, because it can hardly hold back any longer. Before changing my spring menu to summer, I sample a few beans, checking for crunch. I peel back a cornhusk, bite into the cob—is the corn sweet yet? And finally, I pop a cherry tomato in my mouth to gauge its sugar. If they all pass the test, it’s time to make this First-of-the-Season Succotash Salad, dressed with a simple lemon vinaigrette. After waiting all year, what a joy it is to taste all these sunny flavors on one plate.

Most people have heard horror stories about the conditions under which calves are raised for veal. Fortunately, today there are thoughtful ranchers raising free-range veal without antibiotics. This contemporary veal won’t taste or look like the pale, white meat your grandparents were accustomed to. The free-range veal we serve at Lucques is rosy red in color, with more character and flavor than its inhumanely treated counterpart. It’s worth pursuing. To keep the chops juicy, grill them medium-rare to medium.

I came up with this technique of boiling a squash whole while watching a movie. I didn’t want to miss the good parts—and the kids didn’t want to pause it for me while I tended the stove. The squash ended up cooking beautifully, becoming juicy and tender with zero effort.

Too often, summer squash ends up watery and soft. By cooking the squash on a rack, I release the water and give the squash an almost fluffy texture. The cheese creates a crisp, savory crust that makes this dish irresistible.

I think tomatoes and summer squash always taste great together. The key to this two-vegetable simple spin on ratatouille is roasting the tomatoes first. It intensifies their sweetness and makes the whole dish rich in flavor.

I’m always looking for inspiration when I shop at farmer’s markets. The heirloom varieties of summer squash, like Goldbar, Paddle, and 8-Ball, are among my new favorites. To highlight their subtle flavor, I splash them with a simple lemon dressing, then surround them with sharp cheese and peppery greens.

This dish is almost embarrassingly easy, but such a crowd-pleaser that I just had to share it. Use a flavorful prepared marinara—smoked tomato, mushroom, or chunky vegetable.

This flavorful warm salad can be made any time of year, its seasonal personality lent by either rosemary (for cooler months) or basil (for warmer weather). It’s a fairly substantial salad, so it’s good served with a straightforward protein dish like Tempeh Fries (page 78), Cornmeal-Crusted Seitan (page 63), or BBQ-Flavored Skillet Tofu (page 62).