New Hampshire: Every County Blue (and the squash ain't bad)

I may have mentioned that on Joe and Nicki's last visit, they brought us a lot of presents from the garden. There were eggs, pesto, their company, and last but not least, a great big spaghetti squash.

Spaghetti squash has always baffled me, and without ever really eating it or attempting to cook it, I've always been a little averse. Never tempted to cook it. I think one of the reasons for this is that most things that can be done with it are such homey dishes that they rarely hit restaurant menus or fancy food magazines of the sort I'm trying to cut down on. People usually toss the glassy strands with butter and nutmeg, or top with tomato sauce. Nothing fancy.

However, it is a favorite with many, and for one reason or another never made it to the top of my list to try. That all changed when this recipe started making the blog rounds--see, I told you it was incestuous. I first saw it on the kitchn, and it has migrated around since. For me, it was perfect, as the two things I had wasting away were the two main ingredients, spaghetti squash and fresh ricotta.

I baked the squash (for much longer than recommended, it was much larger), forked it, mixed it up with sage and garlic and ricotta, and had dinner at 11:30 pm. Did you catch the part earlier about the squash baking much, much longer than I had anticipated? Yeah. Lucky there was more ricotta left so I could have my dessert pancakes while I waited.

Oh yes, and it was good. Very good. If the ricotta holds, there might be leftovers, if not, I have the stringy flesh of the whole other half of the squash to play with. Nutmeg and butter sounds very very good. Thanks again, New Hampshire. Every county blue (thanks to the hard work of Matt, Joe, Nicki, and so many others), and squash to boot.

Lay Ladies Lay

Sorry, couldn't resist.
Remember those tiny pullet eggs my aunt and uncle brought from Keene, NH? Well, apparently they're not kidding around up there (all counties blue! Yeah!), because when Joe and Nicki came back to stay last Thursday, they brought us these:Impressive, right? Those girls know what they're doing. The Keene harvest was bountiful in all respects, and we were also lucky enough to receive a tub of Joe's pesto (frozen earlier in the season, and so delicious), and a big ol' spaghetti squash, currently awaiting its demise by decorating our dining room table. Ah, but the eggs. Only one thing to do with those.

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but Matt makes superlative scrambled eggs. Here they are with some turkey sausage, mushrooms, and soup chicken bits.

Perfect, tiny, new.

My aunt and uncle came to visit last week. They were our first real overnight guests in this incarnation of the household (though they won't be the last). This is the first time in my adult life that I've had anything resembling a suitable guest room to offer, and it's gone to my head so much I've been considering opening an impromptu bed and breakfast. The B&B couldn't have had a better debut, especially as it featured a very special present from the new women in Uncle Joe's life. On the right is one of two tiny eggs, the first efforts of a new flock of gararge-residing hens from New Hampshire. The second tiny egg here below, in a tiny pan.
Pullet eggs are sometimes misshapen, or too soft, or reflect a slow learning curve in other ways. Clearly Joe and Nicki have genius hens, who got it right the first time and blessed our little B&B with their impressive efforts (seriously, can any of you do that?).
Now I really want chickens. Except I'm afraid that my imaginary dog might chase them. But don't worry, being imaginary means neither of them present allergy problems for guests. So come over anytime.