Mega Pumpkinsquash!

Maybe you remember this gigunda-sized volunteer squash photo I posted last fall … pumpkin-big, and looking like a cross between that and a delicata or sweet dumpling, by the coloring. I have to confess that I fell for this big old gourd; it was just stunning, perfect in its voluptuousness (okay, now I am revealing how weird I am), beautiful to look at. I couldn’t stop admiring it

There it sat on the kitchen island, waiting to be carved up and eaten ... but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was an emblem of the richness of the garden, a beacon of nature’s fecundity, an amazing surprise that had emerged from a shaded compost pile under the trees in a far corner of the yard. Never watered, only getting a few hours of sun each day, this squash grew in spite of those less-than-ideal conditions. It was the most perfect squash I had ever seen.

And so it remained on the counter through Thanksgiving, through Christmas, through the long month of January and halfway through February, subject to the warmth and on-and-off humidity of the kitchen. Lesser squashes, tucked away in the pantry, began to show their age; this one merely turned its greens into oranges, its skin still firm, a rap still producing a satisfying thump. Could it be too good to be true?

Finally, fearing that if I waited much longer it could go all squishy, it seemed like time. This gift should not go to waste. As I plunged our largest knife into the flesh, it felt like carving a fresh pumpkin – it was work, the meat was firm, it took some effort to cut it open. And … amazing! Still moist inside, seeds plump, a lovely squashy aroma.

It was cleaned, cut into large pieces, one sent upstairs for my extended family, two roasted as they were, the last cut into cubes and roasted with carrots and ginger for soup.

Squashes vary in their tastes, depending on the type; some are bland, some dry, some tasty. This pumpkin-squash, aged to perfection, is delicious. Butter and salt were added to the roasted squash, and mashed together; chicken stock, curry, turmeric, cinnamon, and coriander were added to the roasted soup mixture, and pureed with a stick blender. After sampling the mashed squash -- delicious! -- the rest was put into the freezer.

(These silicone muffin pans, by the way, are terrific for freezing portion-sized servings … once they’re frozen, the contents can be popped out quite easily and placed in freezer bags.)

The seeds were saved, of course, and if anyone would like some to plant this year, let me know. Because this one plant grew so, so far away from any other squashes – probably 100 yards away – I expect they should come true. But you never know … and that’s part of the fun of growing.

Winterspring?

Another warmish, sunny day in a strange winter with many such days. More and more people comment on the season by saying, I’m not complaining, but … It’s an odd thing, having such a mild winter, and while we certainly do enjoy being largely free from shoveling and slippery driving, and marvel at the bulbs and perennials already sending up shoots, we also know it’s freakish. And we know that we could still get slammed with winter weather at any time (as we did in October), although the forecast isn’t predicting any of that for us any time soon.

And those of us who are perhaps more tuned in to environmental issues know that a warm winter means less winter kill-off of bugs and pests and perhaps, even, plant diseases. We wonder what the summer will bring; hordes of black flies, mosquitoes, and ticks? – and correspondingly higher rates of Lyme disease? Squash bugs and potato beetles? (maybe even a biblical plague of locusts? ;-) I figure there’s lots more I don’t realize, about what will be different without the usual cold winter temperatures and the usual deep snow cover.

But for the meantime, what can one do except enjoy this Virginia-like winter? We sat out on the deck at midday to eat our lunch in the sun; it was still chilly enough to require sweater and sweatshirt, but we have a protected spot out of too much wind and it was delightful. The lawn is bare and the grass is pretty green, considering. I mean, it’s February. We shouldn’t be seeing the lawn at all. Sorrel and chives are beginning to poke up in the herb garden, and the leaves of burnet, primroses, and clary sage are green.

The chickens are happy beneficiaries of all this warmth as well. Usually they are cooped up throughout the usual frequent cold snaps and blizzards, not liking to step out into snow; this winter they are able to gad about freely in their pen most days, scratching through the used rabbit bedding and kitchen scraps that are thrown in. Something has been coming through the yard in the wee hours, waking our dogs, and we suspect that our local black bear might not be hibernating in the usual way. Can't look for tracks, though, when there's no snow.

I feel for the ski areas, and the guys who bought new plows this winter, and the kids who got sleds and snowshoes for Christmas. And, I suppose, for those people who actually love the snow and revel in seeing the landscape covered in a thick white blanket. I just wish that I could enjoy this unusual weather without that nagging worry in the back of my mind, wondering about the causes, the implications, and what might lie ahead for those of us who work the land.