Silence (and squash)

Animals, as they pass through the landscape, leave their tracks behind.
Stories are the tracks we leave.

-Salman Rushdie

Bison, Yellowstone National Park

Morning in the Lamar Valley, Yellowstone National Park

Pronghorn antelope on the move, Rescue Creek, Yellowstone National Park

This space has been silent for a few months.  For the most part, this silence was the product of full days that took my thoughts elsewhere.   But as more time passed, I became more and more reluctant to start up again.

This week, two things snapped me out of my self-conscious stupor:  Ivan Doig---one of my favorite writers and a literary voice that the people of my adopted state lovingly claim as their own---died of cancer.  And my friend Kristin---whose voice off the page I admire and seek out for its lucidity and strength---sent me a link to her new blog (which is beautiful).   Both made me think about writing, how enriching it is for writer and reader whether the product is a prize-winning novel or a modest journal of stories from a life thoughtfully lived.  So I'm breaking my long silence with the intention of resuming the practice of writing here, for whatever purpose or none, satisfied that the tracks I leave are my own, whatever pattern they may make.

April in Montana is a liminal space between winter and spring, with the mercury sailing into the 60s some days, coaxing out buds on the weather-beaten trees, and then plummeting mercilessly into the 20s.  We make fewer plans at this time of year, knowing we're likely to wake up in the morning to find that our designs on fishing, or trail running, or staying inside making soup, are woefully incompatible with the whim of the weather.  It can be a frustrating season if you let yourself get too attached to plans.  But if you're willing to let go and see what the morning brings, it is a great season for spontaneity and presence of mind.

I've found that our cooking at this time of year follows suit:  a rich, nutty curry feels right one gray and chilly night, but the next day is all salads.  Colin made me this incredible squash dish in February from the incomparable Ottolenghi's Plenty More and it seems to epitomize the space of early spring:  a wintry vegetable dressed up with a summery cilantro pesto and balanced out with Greek yogurt.  We ate it with a roast chicken, but it could easily play the lead in a meal with some steamed bulgur and salad on the side.

Squash with Chile Yogurt and Cilantro Sauce
Slightly adapted from Plenty More

2 medium delicata squash
1 tsp ground cinnamon
6 tbsp olive oil
1 large bunch cilantro
2 cloves garlic
2 1/2 tbsp pumpkin seeds
1 cup Greek yogurt
1 1/2 tsp Sriracha chile sauce
kosher salt and black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350.  Spread the pumpkin seeds on a baking sheet and roast 6-8 minutes, or until the outer skin of the seeds starts to pop open and the seeds become crispy.  Set aside to cool.

Turn the oven up to 425.  Scrub the squash and cut them in half, lengthwise, and remove and discard the seeds and then cut into wedges about 3/4-inch wide and 3-inches long.  Place in a large bowl with the cinnamon, 2 tbsp olive oil, 1 tsp kosher salt, and a good grind of pepper.  Mix well to coat the squash.  Transfer the squash to a large baking dish and roast 35-40 minutes or until the squash is fork-tender.

While the squash is roasting, place the cilantro, garlic, 4 tbsp olive oil, and 1 tsp kosher salt in a food processor and blitz to form a fine paste. 

When the squash are done, remove them from the oven and allow them to cool 15-20 minutes.  When you are ready to serve, whisk together the yogurt and Sriracha.  Spread the squash wedges on a serving platter and drizzle the yogurt sauce, followed by the herb paste, on top.  Sprinkle the pumpkin seeds on top of that and serve.