For the past many years, squash and I have enjoyed merely an esthetical relationship. In the fall, you could find them almost anywhere in my house, from the front porch to the mantel, but never on the dinner plate. Times have changed.

            On a recent driving trip back from the coast, I stopped at a roadside fruit and vegetable stand for the express purpose of purchasing a Turban squash, my favourite fall decor. This stand appeared to hold promise of yielding a bounty of these beautiful orange, green and cream stripped gourds. From the time that I bought my first Harrowsmith cookbook, which pictured an array of these colourful squash on the cover, I was hooked on Turban. But the truth is, I have never gone so far as to actually use the squash recipes. As far as I was concerned, “The Turban” had been bred exclusively to make my world a lovelier place.

            As I walked up to the till, I caught a glimpse of the sales clerk, a boy of about twenty. My first thought was that he seemed out of place in a vegetable stand. He looked like someone from the cover of my son’s snowboarding magazine. He looked at the Turban in my hand, grabbed it from me, and told me: “I’ll get you a better squash. This one’s bruised and won’t taste that great.”

            Off he went with my decor, only to return with a brilliant orange squash he called a Hubbard. “You have to try this one. It’s fantastic; way better than the Turban,” he said. Dreams of my Martha Stewart still life were slowly drifting away, although I had to admit that this squash was attractive in its own way. At this point, I didn’t have the heart to tell this enthusiastic young fellow (who despite my initial bias did know his squash), that I was merely interested in the gourd for my front porch.

            Then, to my continuing surprise, he proceeded to tell me the best way to cook it. “This is the best. Just put it in a baking dish with some water and cover it with tin foil. Scoop it out and mash it with a bit of salt, pepper and butter. It will be awesome!”

            I left with my Hubbard and baked it for Thanksgiving dinner. My boys and their friends, all teenagers, had seconds. It was delicious. I wondered then why it was that for all of my adult life (i.e. from the time I could chose what I wanted to eat and didn’t), I had avoided squash. The only explanation I have is that my Mom just didn’t know how to cook squash right. Sorry, Mom.

            My brother and I became experts at the “Squash Sham.” We found at least a dozen ways of fooling my Mom into thinking that we had eaten our squash. There was the “hide- it- in- the –baked- potato- peel” one, the “blow-your-nose-into-the napkin” one and the “I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom” one. Of course, my Dad rarely fell for our shenanigans and we spent many nights going to our rooms without dessert.

            The only squash that I remember Mom cooking was the acorn. It always seemed to have hard, stringy, lumpy things in it that made us gag. I never knew that there was a life where squash wasn’t merely intended for use as kid torture; a world where it was cooked properly.

            I now know that the secret to cooking squash is to keep it moist. Mom never covered her squash, and even though she may have started with water in her pan, she baked it until it had dried out. Cut the gourd into large segments or in half for smaller squash, then place the pieces skin-side down in a baking pan with water. I drizzle a bit of grapeseed oil over the exposed flesh and season the pieces with my favourite jerk seasoning mixture. Depending on whether I am using the oven (if I am doing a roast, I will use the oven) or microwave, I cover the dish tightly with foil or plastic. Don’t let the liquid dry up; add more until the flesh is cooked tender. Sweet and simple.

            If you are baking large pieces with a thick rind, prick a few holes into the rind. If you are doing a smaller squash that you are only cutting in half, you can also cook it flesh side down in the water, although this can make the flesh too watery for my taste.

            I now also enjoy Butternut and Buttercup squash, and I know that there are many more varieties to discover as I become more adventuresome in the “Land of Gourd.” I have heard that the Hubbard also comes in Baby Blue. Now, that would look great on my mantel!