Roasted Butternut Squash — Rice Salad — The Light Through the Kitchen Window

The Christmas lights still up in February because no one has the energy to take them down. A Code Blue Wednesday morning that we did not save. I stood in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before I got in my car.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one.

I made sinigang Sunday. The sour was the right register for the body this week. The tamarind was sharp.

A reader wrote me a long email this week about her grandmother's adobo, which differed from mine in every measurement. The differences were the conversation. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

The kitchen window faced the inlet. The inlet was silver in the late light. The light was the inheritance.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

The week I made sinigang, I was already looking for anything warm and grounding that could carry weight without demanding too much — and this roasted butternut squash and rice salad became that thing, the dish I made while the phone calls were still happening and the inlet was still silver in the window. Rice has always been the center of our table, Filipino or otherwise, and there is something in the way roasted squash folds into warm rice that feels like the acceptable version of perfect — the working version, the version that gets dinner on the table and keeps the body moving. I made it the same week I took inventory of the freezer, the same week the body was tired but still walking the trail. It held.

Roasted Butternut Squash & Rice Salad

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

Ingredients

• 1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch cubes (about 4 cups)
• 1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
• 3 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
• 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 2 cups baby arugula or spinach
• 1/3 cup dried cranberries
• 1/4 cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
• 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. Toss squash cubes with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika until evenly coated.
2. Roast the squash. Spread squash in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Roast 28–32 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until golden at the edges and tender when pierced with a fork.
3. Cook the rice. While the squash roasts, bring vegetable broth to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add rice, stir once, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer 18 minutes. Remove from heat and let steam, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork.
4. Make the dressing. Whisk together the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil, apple cider vinegar, honey, and Dijon mustard in a small bowl until emulsified. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
5. Assemble the salad. Transfer warm rice to a large serving bowl. Add roasted squash, arugula, dried cranberries, and pepitas. Drizzle dressing over the top and toss gently to combine, letting the arugula wilt slightly from the heat of the rice.
6. Serve. Serve warm or at room temperature. Leftovers keep well refrigerated for up to 3 days — add a splash of broth when reheating to loosen.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 390 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 65g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 310mg