Stuffed Acorn Squash

November 20, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

Wild Trumpet Vine is no food blog, and I’m no foodie. But I do cook regularly, and my family generally appreciates my efforts. My squash-hating husband had a business dinner the other night, so it seemed like a good opportunity to cook the acorn squash the squirrels had provided. It turned out well, and I think it merits a post.

Like my husband, I used to have a squash aversion. Growing up, winter squash was rarely served at our family table. Sautéed zucchini and yellow summer squash with onions and tomatoes was a summer stand-by, but we tended to view the winter varieties as purely decorative. Unseasoned, unsalted squash was a a staple, though, at a friend’s house. Every time I stayed for dinner, it seemed, it was on the menu. Knowing it wasn’t my favorite, my friend enjoyed squirting the mushy stuff between the gap in her teeth, pre-braces.

It’s not surprising, then, that with the exception of butternut squash for soup, I’ve avoided most of the cold-weather varieties. Until earlier this fall, I had never cooked acorn squash, nor even considered cooking it. Now I know what I’ve been missing. It’s a far remove from the bland, gooey stuff I recall from childhood. One acorn squash, sliced in half and baked, yields two perfect, scallop-edged, edible bowls that beg for some sort of filling.

Here’s how I cooked that squash:

I trimmed the ends to create a level surface, then sliced the squash in half. I drizzled the halves with olive oil, and seasoned them with salt and pepper. I put them in a glass baking dish and added about an inch of water to the bottom. I cooked the squash in a preheated oven at 400 degrees for about 50 minutes.

While the squash was cooking, I made a simple stuffing, using what we had on hand. In a cast-iron skillet, I sautéed an onion in olive oil until not quite caramelized. I added baby bella mushrooms and bell pepper, chopped. A further exploration of the crisper drawer yielded one last zucchini and some flat-leaf parsley. I chopped and added these. For a bit of filler, I rustled up some bread crumbs from a toasted hot dog bun. (We were otherwise out of bread.) I added a little chicken broth, some sage and ground pepper and let it all simmer until the squash was done. Just before serving, I filled the squash with the stuffing mixture.

My daughter, a more adventurous eater than her father, appreciated the look and taste of the squash and its stuffing. We both enjoyed the attractive practicality of the edible bowl. It’s a remedy for erasing decades of bad squash memories. I’d like to say it might even work for my husband. But that might be going a bit too far.

Thanks again, squirrels!

Nature

What the Squirrels Planted

November 17, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine 2 Comments

After Halloween each year, we set our jack-o’-lanterns out under the maple trees in the front yard as treats for local wildlife. We enjoy watching as the deer and squirrels make short work of them. Last year, once Thanksgiving had passed, we also offered various small pumpkins, gourds and squash, which the squirrels had been nibbling at, uninvited, since early October.

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By mid-July, fuzzy, big-leaved vines with yellow blossoms were popping up throughout our flower beds. The squirrels, it seemed, had planted several varieties of squash.

As farmers, the squirrels took a carpe diem attitude, eating most of the buds as soon as they appeared. The occasional tiny proto-pumpkin developed, only to be gobbled up quickly before it had a chance to grow. We couldn’t complain. The squirrels had done the sowing, so they were entitled to reap according to their whims.

One little pumpkin escaped their notice. A thick tangle of vines among our black-eyed susans sheltered a single dark green fluted globe. I checked on it regularly, expecting its color to turn to orange. It grew to just over softball-size and remained green. When I examined it more closely, I saw that it was an acorn squash. How fitting, considering it was planted by a squirrel.

When our furry little farmers continued to neglect the fruit of their labors, I claimed the acorn squash. My daughter and I will make a tasty fall meal of it soon. (My husband only eats squash under extreme duress.)

As a thank-you gift, the squirrels will soon receive our decorative gourds.

Community, Family, Holiday

Veterans’ Day 2014

November 11, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

Thank you to those who are fighting, or have fought, our country’s battles for freedom and righteousness. Words are inadequate, your sacrifices immeasurable. On this Veterans’ Day and every day, you have our deep gratitude.

My father outside the Casserne in Regensburg, ca. 1947. Daddy served in the U.S. occupational forces following World War II.

My Uncle Bill, on the right, ca. 1945. My mother’s brother served as a frogman in the Philippines during World War II.

Family, Holiday, Parenthood

Halloween Update

November 6, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine 2 Comments

This October, after some deliberation, my daughter decided that her trick-or-treating days were behind her. She’d had a good long run: fourteen Halloweens of neighborhood candy collecting. Last year a mother answering the door at one home had uttered that dreaded criticism: Aren’t you girls a little old for this? My daughter seethed inwardly at these words.

It bugged me, too, I have to admit. I’m quite happy, one night a year, to hand out treats to polite, costumed children and teenagers of all ages, shapes and sizes. Who outgrows a love of candy, anyway? It certainly doesn’t happen in my family. My eighty-something father begins buying Halloween goodies as soon as they appear in stores, usually around July 5th. He and Mama see it as their duty to make sure the Butterfingers, Snickers and Milky Ways are up to par for the kiddies. By the time Halloween rolls around, they are quality-control experts.

Nevertheless, there comes a time when the annual house-to-house trek becomes more of a slog than an adventure. As with most pleasures that we outgrow, one day we wake up and know in our bones: the payoff is no longer worth the trouble. Facing the truth can be painful, but not facing it tends to be more so.

Trick-or-treating, then, was out. But my daughter has not outgrown her love of Halloween. And this year, for the first time in recent history, the holiday would fall on a Friday. Better yet, that Friday was an early-dismissal day that marked the end of the quarter and the start of a four-day weekend. She refused to settle for staying home and answering the door. She determined to celebrate Halloween, and properly. Without trick-or-treating, but with friends, costumes, and, of course, candy.

For additional thoughts on Halloween and trick-or-treating age limits, see On Improving Halloween, from November 2011.

Community

It’s Election Day!

November 4, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

Don’t forget to vote!

Holiday

Happy Halloween 2014!

October 31, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

Holiday

Skeleton Crew

October 30, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine 2 Comments

This Halloween season, our family welcomed Slim and his two charming dogs, Fluffy and Champ.

Ever the dedicated dog walker, Slim takes a load off after a neighborhood hike.

Always up for fun, the jolly trio keeps an eye out for new friends.

Slim’s musical talent is prodigious. Here he entertains with a personal favorite, Scott Joplin’s The Strenuous Life. Champ taps an appreciative paw to the ragtime beat.

Requests, anyone? He’ll be here all week. Remember to tip your servers.

A scintillating conversationalist, Slim enchants with tall tales of comedy and valor.

Be forewarned: he’s a hugger!

Slims sends this message: Happy Halloween Eve to all!

Nature

Beautiful October

October 29, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

I’ve been writing about springtime in London, yet all around me it’s autumn in Virginia. October, that drama queen of quickly shifting colors, skies and moods, has not disappointed. Only a scant three days remain in this most flamboyant of months. Halloween is bearing down upon us. High time, then, for a few local fall photos, reminders that nature’s beauty is near at hand.

Art and Architecture, Family, Parenthood, Travel

London, Revisited, Part IV: Saint Paul’s

October 23, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

I was looking forward to showing my daughter Saint Paul’s Cathedral, which I’d studied repeatedly in various art history courses. D was familiar with it from her preschool years when Mary Poppins was a revered staple in our video library. In those days, I tended to remind her, too often, that the “Feed the Birds Church” was a real, famous, enormous church in London. Sometimes I’d show her pictures of it in my architecture books. And if my husband were in on the viewing, he’d explain how young Michael’s tuppence, used for bread crumbs for the birds, instead of deposited into Mr. Banks’ bank could, in theory, have caused a run on the bank. No doubt D would have preferred fewer teachable moments while she watched her movie, but that’s a burden some only children must bear.

St. Paul’s stands atop Ludgate Hill, the highest point in London. A church dedicated to St. Paul the Apostle and prolific New Testament author had existed on the spot since the sixth century. The current church replaced a large medieval basilica built in the Romanesque and Gothic styles. Like much of the City of London, it was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. At the time of the fire, a young Christopher Wren had been involved in updating Old St. Paul’s. A network of wooden scaffolding was in place as the stone walls were being repaired. Had the scaffolding not caught fire and ignited the wooden roof beams, portions of the medieval church might have been salvageable. After the destruction, Wren was hired to design a grand new cathedral. Wren rebuilt over fifty London churches, but St. Paul’s is his crowning glory, a masterpiece of the English Baroque style.

The highly sculptural west front of St. Paul’s, with its double temple front and twin towers.

Feed the birds, tuppence a bag.

Wren’s monumental dome drew on Italian Renaissance forerunners by Michelangelo, Brunelleschi and Bramante.

From its earliest days, St. Paul’s has been a distinctly urban church. Considering its location in the densely crowded City, the heart of London’s commercial district since ancient times, it could hardly be otherwise. Seventeenth-century images of Old St Paul’s show the hilltop basilica closely surrounded by haphazardly constructed smaller buildings. The warren of wooden homes and shops that encroached upon one another made suppressing the four-day Great Fire particularly difficult.

That St. Paul’s continues to be hemmed in on all sides by ordinary office buildings is therefore not surprising. But, I wonder, do they have to be so emphatically ugly and insinuatingly pushy? A wave of fresh disappointment hits me every time I approach the great church from a street like the one pictured above.

The British flair for the sweeping, spectacular vista is nowhere in evidence around St. Paul’s. Above, a view from the Millennium bridge.

The Millennium Bridge and St. Paul’s from across the Thames.

St. Paul’s looks down on the life of the city, as it has since its completion in 1708. Above, in Bankside near the Tate Modern, a Shrek in a silver track suit amuses pedestrians by hovering in mid-air. Despite the labyrinth of buildings that crowd the base of the Cathedral, the dome still towers well above newer, less distinguished neighbors. Let futuristic skyscrapers such as “The Shard” and “The Gherkin” continue to pop up, as long as they don’t blot out the vision of that iconic dome.

Art and Architecture, Family, Travel

London, Revisited, Part III

October 8, 2014 Wildtrumpetvine

As we proceeded with our walk through the heart of London, I maintained my role as a somewhat muddled and conflicted tour guide. It was with relief that I found the lacy, Gothic-style towers of Parliament and all the buildings of Westminster Palace in their expected spots, keeping watch over the Thames. Their honey-colored stone gleamed warmly in the sunlight; I had never seen them looking so pristine. The last traces of Industrial Revolution coal-dust grime were blasted away in 1994.

Although reduced in number and usage, classic examples of the red telephone box still punctuate the streets of London. That they tend to be surrounded by international tourists snapping photos with their phones strikes me as an interesting irony, further proof that our twenty-first century world is nothing if not meta.

The ever-present London Eye grew larger as we made our way down the Victoria Embankment alongside the river. Perhaps because I was distracted by the giant Ferris wheel, I completely missed one of my favorite London statues, that of the formidable Boadicea driving her chariot into battle against the Romans. Back home, when I looked for her on Google maps, I found her exactly where she should have been, on the Embankment near Westminster Pier. It was dismaying to realize I had walked blindly past the Warrior Queen.

When we paused to rest on one of the Embankment’s sphinx-armed benches, our daughter noticed that our sunglasses reflected double rings of the London Eye.

When in London, one is gifted (or afflicted), with London eyes.

From the Embankment, we approached Trafalgar Square. Since its completion in 1724, the neoclassical Church of Saint Martin-in-the Fields has anchored a corner of the square. James Gibbs’ design, with a tall, graceful steeple resembling a multi-layer wedding cake, continues to influence the building of Protestant churches throughout the U.S. I regret that we didn’t squeeze in a visit to the café in the church’s roomy, atmospheric crypt. It’s a great place to refuel and revive after wandering the halls of the National Gallery across the square.

This photo from 1982 shows the church from the steps of the National Gallery.

On the day of our visit, Trafalgar Square and the steps leading to the Gallery were awash in a teeming tide of humanity. I had hoped to show my daughter some of my favorite paintings, but the crowds made me lose heart. Spring break in London, as in Paris, has its drawbacks. It seemed futile even to try to elbow our way over to one of the grand lions that guard Lord Nelson’s column. Somewhat appropriately, in the waning afternoon light, the National Gallery takes on a grim, fortress-like aspect in the photo above.

On a less hectic day in the summer of 1982, Lord Nelson’s lions, and the Gallery itself, were more accessible.

We decided to flee the area. But a quick departure was impossible due to the press of the crowd. Had I never been in London during the week before Easter? Maybe not. During my year in the U.K., I returned home once, and that was for Easter. Maybe the city’s always as congested at this time of the season. Better to assume that’s the case than to think it’s been spoiled recently.

I know I’m not alone in occasionally wishing myself nearly alone (with a hand-picked group of family and friends) to experience the marvels of the world’s great cities. As we made our way back, slowly, toward Grosvenor Square and our hotel, I considered the advantages of conducting future British travel from the serenity of the sofa via PBS and Netflix. Under the expert guidance of, say, earnest young Endeavor Morse, or Benedict Cumberbatch’s otherworldly Sherlock, or the bright-eyed, sensibly shoed Miss Marple, one may witness matters of life and death set amidst notable U. K. monuments, without ever battling a crowd. The older I get, the more tempting that sounds.

A blog about motherhood, marriage and life: the joys and frustrations, beauty and absurdity, blessings and pain. It's about looking back, looking ahead, and walking the dog.