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Butternut Squash Salad — The Table We Keep Setting Together

New Year's 2026. Nine years sober. I am forty-six years old. I am a five-time state champion. My son is playing college football. My daughter is ranked fourth in the country in the 3200 meters. My twins are eleven years old and becoming genuinely interesting people. My wife was just named Regional Director for the mountain west. My father is dying, slowly, with more grace than he has ever extended to anything else in his life. These are the facts of this January.

I don't say the last fact out loud very often. I've been saying it internally since the palliative care consultation two years ago and the rate of hardware trips and the narrowing windows. I know what direction this goes. Hector knows what direction this goes. We haven't used that word with each other and I don't think we need to. The relationship we have doesn't require the word. It requires the calls and the drives and the tamales made beside him and the hands on my face at the championship game. The word would be smaller than what we're doing.

Made black-eyed peas with Lisa. Gloria called from Houston. The twins ate before noon. The tradition holds. Everything that holds is a form of care. I make the food that connects us to the people we come from. It is the most important thing I do outside the building, and some days it's the most important thing I do at all.

The black-eyed peas are the anchor, but the table needs more than an anchor — it needs something that says the rest of the year is worth showing up for, too. I’ve been making this butternut squash salad alongside the peas for a few years now, partly because Lisa likes having something bright and green on the table in January, and partly because roasting the squash while the peas simmer fills the whole house in a way that feels like a second tradition forming without anyone deciding to start one. Nine years in, I know what that feels like. You don’t declare it; it just holds.

Butternut Squash Salad

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 medium butternut squash (about 2 lbs), peeled, seeded, and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 5 oz baby arugula or mixed greens
  • 1/3 cup dried cranberries
  • 1/3 cup roasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
  • 1/4 cup crumbled feta or goat cheese
  • 1/4 small red onion, very thinly sliced
  • 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon honey or pure maple syrup
  • 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
  2. Season the squash. Toss the cubed squash with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, the salt, and the pepper until evenly coated. Spread in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet.
  3. Roast. Roast for 25–30 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the squash is tender and the edges are caramelized and golden. Remove from oven and let cool for 5 minutes.
  4. Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil, apple cider vinegar, honey, and Dijon mustard. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
  5. Assemble the salad. Arrange the arugula on a large platter or in a wide bowl. Top with the warm roasted squash, dried cranberries, pepitas, crumbled feta, and red onion slices.
  6. Dress and serve. Drizzle the dressing over the salad. Toss gently just before serving, or serve with dressing on the side. Best served while the squash is still slightly warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 215 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 195mg

Carlos Medina
About the cook who shared this
Carlos Medina
Week 272 of Carlos’s 30-year story · Denver, Colorado
Carlos is a high school football coach and married father of four in Denver whose family has been in New Mexico since before the Mayflower landed. He grew up on his grandmother's green chile — roasted over an open flame, the smell thick enough to stop traffic — and he puts it on everything. Eggs, burgers, pizza, ice cream once on a dare. His cooking is hearty, New Mexican, and built to feed a team. Literally.

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