Roasted Butternut Squash Panzanella

Portland summer. The dry heat. The shiso head-high. Yoga Tuesday and Thursday at the studio. The classes were full. The body was the body.

Miya, 9, can shape onigiri without falling apart. She uses wet hands. She knows the order without being told. Barbara called Sunday. We talked for twenty minutes. She told me about the play she is directing. I told her about the kitchen.

Pickling Saturday. Cucumber, daikon, carrots in rice vinegar and salt. The jars in the fridge. The week's small acid.

The week held. The work continues.

Yoga Tuesday morning. The studio in Sellwood. Eight students. The class was the class.

Coffee with a friend Saturday morning. We talked about books, about kids, about the way our forties became our fifties. The talking is the thing.

I wrote at the kitchen table from six to eight. The newsletter was forming. The opening sentence was the hard sentence — they always are. I rewrote it five times. The fifth time was the right time.

A panic flicker Tuesday evening, brief, manageable. I breathed. I drank water. I went outside and walked around the block. The flicker passed. The body did its work.

Made dashi at five-thirty AM. Ten minutes in the kitchen alone with the kombu and the bonito flakes. The day's first prayer.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book of essays by a Korean-American writer about food and grief. I underlined a paragraph that said exactly what I had been trying to say in the newsletter for months.

Miya is in elementary school. The Saturday Japanese school continues. She still complains. She is still going.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. Wiped the counters. Reorganized the drawer where the chopsticks live. Sharpened the knife. The reset was the reset.

Sunday farmers market in the rain. The vendors knew me. The Hood River apple stand had honeycrisps. I bought four pounds.

I texted Miya a photo of the shiso. She texted back a heart and a single word: home.

Therapy Tuesday. We talked about the wedding. We talked about Barbara. We talked about Fumiko. The hour passed. The work continues.

Tomi watered the garden Saturday morning. The shiso was head-high. The shishito peppers were producing. The kabocha was running on the fence.

The rain in long sheets Tuesday afternoon. I made tea. I watched it from the porch. The cottonwoods on the next block were silver in the wet.

The cat was the cat. Mochi at fifteen sleeps most of the day. She still eats with enthusiasm. She still sits at the kitchen window watching the back garden.

I drove to Uwajimaya Wednesday. Kombu, bonito flakes, white miso, a small bag of mochiko for tomorrow's project. The store smells like home.

Miya's old room is now my office. The desk is by the window. The shiso outside. The newsletter in progress. The afternoons are quiet.

A reader sent me a handwritten card this week. Her grandmother had cooked Japanese food in 1970s Boise. She had felt alone in it. The newsletter, she wrote, made her feel less alone. I taped the card to the wall above my desk.

The neighbor's dog barked at nothing for twenty minutes Sunday afternoon. The neighbor apologized. I told him I had been writing through it and the white noise was helpful. He laughed.

I made onigiri for tomorrow's lunch. Three triangles. Salted plum in the center. Wrapped in nori. The cling wrap. The drawer where I keep them. The system.

The kabocha was running on the fence and the farmers market had honeycrisps and I kept thinking about squash all week without meaning to — the way it sits in the garden quietly producing, the way it asks for very little and gives a lot back. This panzanella is the dish that came from that thinking: roasted squash, good bread, something acidic to pull it together, the same logic as pickling Saturday but softer, warmer. It felt like the right thing to bring to the table after a week that held.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 medium butternut squash (about 2 lbs), peeled, seeded, and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
4 cups crusty bread (sourdough or ciabatta), torn into rough 1-inch pieces
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
2 cups baby arugula
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
2 tablespoons fresh sage leaves, thinly sliced
1/3 cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
2 ounces shaved Parmesan or pecorino romano
For the vinaigrette: 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar, 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard, 1 small garlic clove (minced), 1/4 cup olive oil, 1 teaspoon honey, salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Roast the squash. Preheat oven to 425°F. Toss squash cubes with 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Spread on a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer. Roast 25–30 minutes, turning once halfway through, until golden and caramelized at the edges. Set aside to cool slightly.
Toast the bread. While squash roasts, toss torn bread pieces with remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil and a pinch of salt. Spread on a second baking sheet. Toast in the same oven for 10–12 minutes until golden and crisp on the outside but still slightly chewy in the center. Remove and let cool.
Make the vinaigrette. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the apple cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, and honey. Stream in the 1/4 cup olive oil while whisking until emulsified. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Soften the onion. Place sliced red onion in a small bowl and pour 2 tablespoons of the vinaigrette over it. Let sit for at least 10 minutes to mellow the sharpness while the squash and bread finish.
Assemble the salad. In a large wide bowl, combine the roasted squash, toasted bread, marinated red onion (with its dressing), and arugula. Drizzle remaining vinaigrette over everything and toss gently to coat, letting the bread absorb the dressing without breaking apart completely.
Finish and serve. Add chopped parsley, sliced sage, and toasted pepitas. Top with shaved Parmesan. Taste and adjust salt. Serve immediately while the squash is still warm and the bread has body.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted Butternut Squash Panzanella — The Garden Gives What the Week Needs