Spaghetti Squash Salad

The rest of summer 2024 was: steady. The restaurant hummed. The children grew. The cornbread was made every morning at 5 AM and sold every afternoon by 1 PM. The rhythm of Sarah's Table became the rhythm of my life: wake, bake, serve, clean, home, family, sleep, repeat. The rhythm is a song and the song has been playing for two years and the song gets better with repetition because repetition is not monotony — repetition is mastery. The hundredth cornbread is better than the first because the hands have done it a hundred times and the hands remember what the brain forgot.

The fall arrived. September chili on the menu. Year nine of the September chili. The chili that started in Antioch and now sells for $12 a bowl on Gallatin Pike. The same beans. The same beef. The same spices that I can measure with my eyes closed. The chili doesn't change. The address changes. The chili is: permanent. The chili is the most honest thing I make because the chili doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is: beans and beef and the stubbornness of a woman who makes the same thing every September because the sameness is the point. The sameness is the constancy. The constancy is the love.

Chloe started eighth grade. Thirteen in February (she'll be thirteen — the teenager, the word I'm not ready for). She's: brilliant, moody, passionate, private, the combination of traits that every parent of a soon-to-be-teenager recognizes as the caterpillar-to-butterfly transition that is neither caterpillar nor butterfly but the messy, uncomfortable, beautiful thing in between. She cooks at the restaurant after school. She photographs for Instagram (2,400 followers now — the account that started with 27 likes on a cornbread photo now has 2,400 people watching). She reads: food memoirs, cookbooks, the New York Times food section (she has a subscription she pays for with her royalties). The girl pays for a newspaper subscription with cornbread royalties. The girl is more financially literate at twelve than I was at twenty-five.

Jayden: fourth grade, nine years old, reading above grade level, writing serialized fiction about firefighters, and — new this fall — playing soccer. SOCCER. The first non-fire-truck interest of Jayden Mitchell's life. He's fast (the running-in-circles gene applied to a field with goals). He's aggressive (the volume gene applied to a competitive sport). He's: having fun. The fun is the surprise. The boy whose entire identity has been fire trucks is having fun doing something that has nothing to do with fire trucks. The identity is: expanding. The fire truck is the core. The soccer is the addition. You can be both. The dual identity is the superpower. Firefighter-writer-soccer-player. The Mitchell resume grows.

I made the fall special: butternut squash soup with cornbread croutons. Earline's cornbread, cubed, toasted, floating on top of the soup like tiny golden rafts. The croutons were Chloe's idea ("cubed cornbread is just cornbread in a different shape, and shapes change the experience" — the philosophy of a twelve-year-old who understands that presentation IS the recipe, which is what Jayden accidentally said two years ago and which is now the family's unofficial food motto). The soup sold out. The croutons were the star. The cornbread in a different shape: the same food, new form. The Mitchell way.

When Chloe said that cubed cornbread is just cornbread in a different shape — and that shapes change the experience — she handed me a whole new way of seeing what I already knew how to make. This spaghetti squash salad is that same idea: a squash that refuses to be what you expect, pulling itself into strands that catch the dressing and carry herbs and brightness in a way no other vegetable quite manages. It’s fall produce, fall flavors, fall logic — and it belongs right next to everything the season has already brought us.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 medium spaghetti squash (about 3 lbs)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 English cucumber, diced
1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
1/3 cup kalamata olives, halved
1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
2 tablespoons fresh basil, torn
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 small garlic clove, minced

Instructions

Roast the squash. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Halve the spaghetti squash lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Brush the cut sides with 1 tablespoon of the 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 easily pierced with a fork and the strands pull away cleanly.
Cool and shred. Allow the squash to cool for 10 minutes, then use a fork to scrape the flesh into long strands. Transfer to a large bowl and let cool to room temperature, about 15 minutes.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, and a pinch of salt until emulsified.
Combine. Add the cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, olives, parsley, and basil to the bowl with the squash strands. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently to coat everything evenly.
Finish and serve. Top with crumbled feta. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Serve at room temperature or chilled. The salad holds well in the refrigerator for up to 2 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Spaghetti Squash Salad — When the Same Thing Takes a New Shape