Acorn Squash

One thing is for sure...when I was little we never went hungry. Ok...reword.  If we went hungry, it was our own fault.   Mom always fixed breakfast for us before we went to school.  During the summer and on weekends we always had a lunch prepared for us.  And at dinner time, there was always food on the table.  One of the things that was plentiful in the summer and fall was squash.  Butternut.  Zucchini (I think).  Acorn.

Acorn squash was my favorite.  Mom would cut a squash in half, scoop out the seeds and the stringy stuff from the center, and cut off a section on the side to the squash would sit flat in the pan.

The cavity on the squash was filled with butter and brown sugar, with maybe a little bit of cinnamon or nutmeg sprinkled on top.  A few times I remember her stuffing them with a sausage mixture.  The meaty inside of the squash was always pricked with a fork a few times.

I remember her putting the four halves of squash in bread pans and adding a couple of inches of water in the bottom of the pan so that the squashes didn't burn.  Then she would slide them into the oven to bake, usually along with a roast or a pan of chicken.  The smell of that squash baking was tempting to the taste buds, that's for sure.

I remember one particular dinner when Mom was very mad. I can't recall why she was mad, but she was furious with us--all of us.  Dad told us to just eat our dinners and be quiet through the meal and we could escape to our room later.  At one point I remember her telling us we couldn't leave the table until our plates were clean.  Everything had to be eaten.  I had heard this before, and I knew that if I didn't want to stay at the table until well past my bedtime, I need to do just that....eat everything.

There was NO, absolutely NO, conversation that evening.  All that could be heard was the clink of forks, spoons, and knives against the plates.  Occasionally there was a slurp of the beverage could be heard.   I kept my eyes down, focused on my food.  I didn't dare sneak a peek at Greta because I was afraid our eyes would lock and we would burst into laughter which would cause the wrath of Mom to fall upon both of us. We didn't want that to happen!

Finally I finished my dinner. I had eaten everything on my plate.  I had drunk all of my beverage.  I asked to be excused.  My dad looked at me.  He said I could leave.  My mom looked at me and said "Wait."

Of course I halted immediately.  I was afraid of what I had done that I didn't realize was against the rules.  That wasn't it.

Mom:  Didn't you have acorn squash for dinner?

Me:  Yes.

Mom:  What happened to it?

Me:   I ate it.

Mom:  What did you do with the rind?

Me:  What rind?

Mom:  The green skin that was on the outside of the squash.

Me:  I ate it.

Dad:  WHAT????  YOU ATE THE RIND?

Me:  I ate all of it.  We were supposed to eat everything on our plates so I did.

Dad erupted in laughter.  Mom started to smile.  Greta was giggling.

I sat there with my red face, red enough to match my red hair, and was totally embarrassed.

Yes, I had eaten acorn squash before  No I had never eaten the rind before.  But that night I was taking no chances.  I ate EVERYTHING on my plate so I could be excused.

For that evening, at least, the tension in the house eased a bit.  There was laughter once again.

But as with everything that I did that could elicit embarrassment,  the story of Beth eating the rind of the acorn squash made its rounds to family and the few friends that Mom had.

Now I can laugh about it.  I still love acorn squash.  I still buy one each year.  I cut it in half, clean out the seeds and the fibers inside, fill the cavity with butter and brown sugar, poke the meat inside with a fork, place the halves in the Corning Ware bread pan, add a couple inches of water, and pop it in the oven to bake.

All for me.

Hilary said she never remembers my baking acorn squash.  I am sure she and Megan were offered it but they always declined.  Gary doesn't like it and I won't force it on him.

Today I bought one.  Tomorrow I will bake it.  And tomorrow night I will eat both halves, leave the rinds on the plate, and toss them into the trash!