The prince of squash

The only way to ruin this baby is to burn it.

The only way to ruin this baby is to burn it.

In 1541, a saucer-shaped green squash, ribbed like a pumpkin, hard as a cobblestone and about as appetizing as a shoe, arrived in Japan on a Portuguese sailing vessel. The ship moved on, leaving the Japanese with a new vegetable—and from here we can speculate what might have happened: The local people, curious, applied some heat to see what might occur to this seemingly inedible creature, and a magical transformation occurred. The squash turned soft, sweet and creamy, with a starchiness and taste much like a roasted chestnut. Seasoned with savory spices, battered and fried, or sweetened with sugar or honey, it proved as versatile a food as rice or flour, far tastier and plenty durable in cold storage during the winter months. They would name it the kabocha, and the much underappreciated force of economics we call “globalization” would spread this delight around the world.

In the Central Valley, the winter squash crop is in and the kabochas are piled high in the markets. It takes no great chef to make a crowd pleaser of the kabocha. For beginners, this squash is best cut into steaks and baked at 400 degrees until soft, fleshy and steaming hot. Once you’re familiarized with its natural texture and flavor, you might get fancy with soups, tempura, lasagna and curries. Unless you burn it, there is no ruining a kabocha squash.