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 Just listen to that word one more time. Squash …
one of the English language’s most painful words, along with maim
and trauma and rend and okra and Liberace. Why would anyone want to
eat something that sounds as though someone sat on it?
The bottom-line truth is, cooks all over the place love a challenge,
and they have tried valiantly to turn squash into an edible dish. To
do this, they take one tenth of a portion of squash, boil as much of
the squashiness as they can out of it, then immerse it in
nine-tenths something that tastes good and hope no one will notice.
You know, stuff like chile, mutton, edible vegetables, nuclear
waste, cottonwood bark, bourbon and even chocolate. Then, when you
can’t taste the squash in it, and most of the slime has settled to
the bottom, they smile and say,
“How do you like my ‘Squash Canneloni ala Hershey con Brio?”
Let’s face it; squash is an unwanted growth on an otherwise
perfectly good vine. It starts with a pretty little blossom that
inspires Navajo jewelry and attracts bees. Then it begins its
insidious malignancy into something that should probably be
surgically removed. [to top of second
column] |
“I’m sorry Mr. and Mrs. Smith,”
says the surgeon, “your squash is in an area that is impossible to
reach without endangering the life of the vine. Your vine is pretty
much doomed to produce something that – when cooked properly – will
still gag a sick dog off a gut truck.”
They even try to fool people who
might consider buying squash into thinking it tastes like something
else. Something like butter. Or acorns. Or crooked necks. Makes you
wonder what crime against mankind Mr. Zucchini committed to be
forever more squash-damned in the history books.
But it’s fall now. Autumn … that time of year when children play in
the lazy sunshine and squash vines go belly up. And when we enjoy
our pumpkin pie and jack o’lanterns, we’ll smile quietly, knowing
we’ll once again be squash free for a few blessed months.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
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