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Cacio e Pepe Spaghetti Squash — The Smoky, Cheesy Halloween Tradition That Stops Traffic on My Street

Halloween, year two. Lily is a cat again. I asked if she wanted to be something different. She said, "Why would I be something different when I already know how to be a cat?" I can't argue with that logic. Emma is fourteen now and officially too cool for trick-or-treating, but not too cool for a Halloween party at her friend's house that required a costume. She went as Julia Child. Lab coat (recycled from last year's Marie Curie), a wooden spoon, a paperback copy of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" tucked under her arm, and a wig from the costume store. She spent the evening quoting Julia Child in a high-pitched voice: "The only time to eat diet food is while waiting for the steak to cook." I'm proud of the kid's comedy instincts. Tyler went to a party. He drove himself. In his car. To a party. At a friend's house. I asked whose house. He said Brandon's. I asked if parents would be there. He said yes. I asked what time he'd be home. He said eleven. I said ten-thirty. He said ten-forty-five. We settled on ten-thirty and he was home at 10:28. Close enough. I handed out candy to the neighborhood kids — full-size bars, as promised. Bobby Tran's house is known on the trick-or-treat circuit. Kids come from two blocks over. The parents walk their kids up to my door and half the time they smell the smoker and ask what I'm cooking. This year: smoked mac and cheese. Not for the trick-or-treaters — for me. Smoked mac and cheese is my Halloween tradition. You make a classic stovetop mac (roux, sharp cheddar, Gruyère, mustard powder, a little cayenne), put it in a cast iron skillet, top it with panko, and stick it on the smoker for forty-five minutes. The smoke infuses the cheese. The panko crisps. It's the most American thing I make and I make it once a year. Added fish sauce to the cheese sauce. Obviously. Just a tablespoon. You can't taste it as fish sauce — you taste it as depth. As complexity. As something that makes you eat three servings instead of one. Lily came home with a pillowcase of candy and the satisfied exhaustion of a cat who has hunted well. She fell asleep on the couch in her costume. I put a blanket on her and let her sleep. Some things are too perfect to disturb.

Every year the smoker earns its keep on Halloween night, and every year I tweak the formula just enough to keep myself interested — this year it was the fish sauce in the cheese sauce that cracked the code, that one tablespoon of depth that made me eat two servings standing at the counter between candy handouts. If you want to bring that same spirit of a rich, cheesy, smoke-kissed dish to a weeknight without firing up the whole rig, this Cacio e Pepe Spaghetti Squash is where I land: it has the satisfying, noodle-like pull, the sharp cheese bite, and just enough black pepper heat to make you feel like you earned it. Add a splash of fish sauce to the sauce the way I do — trust me the way Lily trusts that being a cat is the right call — and you’ll wonder why you ever made it without.

Cacio e Pepe Spaghetti Squash

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 medium spaghetti squash (about 3 lbs), halved lengthwise and seeds removed
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper, plus more to taste
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/3 cup heavy cream
  • 1 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese
  • 1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1 tablespoon fish sauce (optional but highly recommended)
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Roast the squash. Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush the cut sides of the spaghetti squash with 1 tablespoon olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place cut-side down on a rimmed baking sheet and roast for 40–45 minutes, until the flesh is fork-tender and the strands pull away easily.
  2. Shred the strands. Let the squash cool for 5 minutes, then use a fork to scrape the flesh into long spaghetti-like strands. Transfer to a colander and gently press out any excess moisture with a clean kitchen towel. Set aside.
  3. Build the sauce. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil. Add the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute until fragrant. Add the heavy cream and fish sauce (if using) and stir to combine. Bring to a gentle simmer.
  4. Add the cheese. Reduce heat to low. Add the Pecorino Romano and Parmesan in two additions, stirring constantly until fully melted and the sauce is smooth. Add the cracked black pepper and stir well. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
  5. Combine and finish. Add the spaghetti squash strands to the skillet and toss thoroughly to coat every strand in the cheese sauce. Cook over low heat for 2–3 minutes, tossing frequently, until everything is hot and well combined.
  6. Serve immediately. Divide among bowls or serve family-style straight from the skillet. Garnish with fresh parsley and an extra crack of black pepper.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 680mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 83 of Bobby’s 30-year story · Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.

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