Butternut Squash Lasagna

The post-Thanksgiving week. The comedown. The week where the leftovers run out and the apartment feels too big after being too full and you realize that the next big thing — graduation — is eighteen days away. Eighteen. I wrote "18" on the bathroom mirror in dry-erase marker and every morning I change it. 17. 16. 15. The countdown is a heartbeat.

I told the Waffle House I'm leaving. My manager — Linda, who has watched me work mornings for seven years, who hugged me when I got into Nashville State, who covered my shifts when Jayden had ear infections — she looked at me and said, "Sarah Mitchell, it's about damn time." She said it with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face and I hugged her in the break room and she smelled like coffee and hash browns and the seven years of my life that happened in this building. I'm giving two weeks notice. My last day at the Waffle House will be December 15th. The same day as graduation. I walk out of one building and into another. One door closes. Another one opens. That's not a metaphor. It's literally what's happening.

Mr. Gerald doesn't know yet. I'm not ready to tell him. He's eighty-two years old and he comes in every morning at 7:15 for a pecan waffle and he calls me "sweetheart" and he tips me $3 and he quizzes me on dental flashcards and he is the most consistent man in my life, more consistent than any father or boyfriend or partner I've ever had. I need to tell him. I will tell him. But not yet. Let me have a few more mornings of 7:15 and pecan waffles and the particular grace of an old man who decided, without being asked, to care about a waitress's education.

Chloe asked me this week, "Mama, when you get your degree, will you still make cornbread?" I said, "Baby, I will always make cornbread. The degree changes my job. It doesn't change my kitchen." She nodded. She looked relieved. Like she'd been worried that the new Sarah would forget the old recipes. She doesn't understand yet that the recipes ARE the old Sarah, and the old Sarah isn't going anywhere. She's just getting a better chair.

I made a turkey pot pie with the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers — turkey, gravy, peas, carrots, all in a pie crust. Thanksgiving: The Final Chapter. The sequel nobody needed but everyone ate. Mama's turkey is officially gone. The cranberry sauce was gone by Saturday (Jayden ate it with a spoon like soup, because it's ORANGE-RED, which is close enough to orange for his standards). The dressing lasted until Sunday. The pie lasted one dinner. Everything that was Thanksgiving is now January's memory and February's paycheck and the knowledge that next Thanksgiving, Sarah Mitchell will be at the table as a dental hygienist. Not a student. Not a waitress. A dental hygienist. With a paycheck and a white coat and Earline's dressing and the good chair.

After the turkey pot pie cleaned out the last of Thanksgiving, I still had half a butternut squash sitting on the counter like it was waiting for its turn. And honestly, I wasn’t ready to stop cooking like it was a holiday. Eighteen days left in this chapter of my life, and I want every dinner to feel like something worth remembering — so I made a butternut squash lasagna, the kind of layered, cheesy, take-your-time casserole that makes the kitchen smell like you’ve got nowhere else to be. Chloe helped me layer the noodles. Jayden approved the color.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 25 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 medium butternut squash (about 2 1/2 pounds), peeled, seeded, and cut into 1/4-inch slices
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 1/2 cups whole milk
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 cup ricotta cheese
2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
9 lasagna noodles, cooked according to package directions
2 cups fresh baby spinach
4 fresh sage leaves, thinly sliced

Instructions

Roast the squash. Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss butternut squash slices with olive oil, salt, and pepper on a lined baking sheet. Roast for 20–25 minutes, flipping halfway, until tender and lightly golden. Reduce oven to 375°F.
Make the béchamel. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in flour and cook for 1 minute. Slowly pour in the milk, whisking constantly, and cook until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 5–7 minutes. Stir in nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and a pinch of pepper. Remove from heat.
Mix the cheeses. In a small bowl, stir together the ricotta, 1 cup of the mozzarella, and 1/4 cup of the Parmesan until combined.
Layer the lasagna. Spread a thin layer of béchamel on the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish. Arrange 3 lasagna noodles on top. Spread half of the cheese mixture over the noodles, layer half of the roasted squash slices over that, scatter 1 cup of spinach on top, and drizzle with about 1/3 of the remaining béchamel. Repeat the layers once more. Top with the final 3 noodles, the remaining béchamel, the remaining 1 cup mozzarella, remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan, and the sliced sage.
Bake. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 25 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for an additional 20–25 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling. Let rest for 10–15 minutes before slicing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Butternut Squash Lasagna — The Last Casserole Before Everything Changes