This week wrung me out to dry.
First, I dressed to impress for my first experience as local TV co-host (2 makeup artists, 3 cameras, and 12 guests later, I decided I LOVE being a TV host but need better clothes). Second, I lived through what will be many doctor’s appointments concerning a loved one’s health troubles. That tore me up so much, I actually found myself spontaneously singing hymns from my childhood as I biked to work. On Wednesday night, I presented in front of some 200 people before the lights dimmed and everyone watched a StoryKeep fundraising video ($13,000 was raised for scholarships!).
By Saturday night, I could hardly say a word worth hearing. I slipped into bed at 11PM, only to awake at 4AM. Perhaps enough sleep for some, but I knew I needed more. I tossed and turned for a few minutes but then did what I always do when I can’t sleep: eat peanut butter toast and read cookbooks. I picked up the 1987 classic New Recipes from Moosewood Restaurant and began it like one might a novel, from the beginning.


Nearing the end of my read, just around 6AM, I came across “Squash Rolls”. The recipe calls for 1 cup of pureed squash. “Perfect!” I silently exclaimed with my pointer finger in the dim morning light. Getting up quick, I turned on my heel, opened the freezer and lifted up two bags of frozen squash with satisfaction. I’d put them in there months ago thinking I’d make more squash-style gnocchi. “No, ma’am. This squash is going be the centerpiece of our afternoon snack on a lazy Sunday afternoon,” I thought. I left the squash out to thaw and went back to bed.

squash roll

My friend Rachel came over just as I was putting the ingredients together. I didn’t have all the whole wheat flour it called for so instead I used 1/2 cup of buckwheat flour. Two rounds of rising later, a quick 25 minute bake, and they came out perfectly – soft, chewy and slightly sweet. I ate two before anyone knew they were out of the oven. First, just plain. Then, with raspberry jam. After the last bite, I sighed. The sunlight was streaming in my kitchen window. And then, like a hungry ghost, I began to hum “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;Praise God, all creatures here below…”