Squash...touching me where my bathing suit covers...

So. I don't like squash. I just don't. Butternut has been so thoroughly abused, it cannot possibly have any dignity left. I hate pumpkin pie (all except one...don't get me started--people seem to think pumpkin pie is something they can argue you into liking...bizarre). It is POSSIBLE, just POSSIBLE, however, that I was fed some roasted acorn squash last night that was not an abomination. Or, rather, it was an abomination--but the kind I like in my tingly places. Behold:

Granted, it is "The Color Food Should Never Be" (remind me to tell you the story sometime), but it was actually pretty tasty. And a super-fun texture. Baby-food meets smoothie, but sexy-like.

It seems the flying spaghetti monster is the only one who will know the precise proportions of this drink, but here is the key info (by the by, Jsun swears this is precise):

"1 hefty tablespoon...as in a spoon you would use at the table...in the form of a soup spoon...heaped up" of Mashed, roasted acorn squash (seasoned with s&p, brown sugar, and butter)
2 "shots" courvoisier
"A hefty amount" of grated long pepper

We garnished it (this is a Jsun creation) with fresh grated "Long Pepper" (which was immediately, upon entering the house, rechristened "Dong Pepper" or "Schlong Pepper"--because we are mature and responsible adults, for fuck sake), which is entertaining the shit out of me, in and of itself. Aside from the fact that it is not often you encounter a new spice (touch it like you want to), this one is pretty fun. Like mild pepper, a cardamom-type hit, and a lovely floral tone pervading.

Beyond that, I got to try it as a result of a co-worker (let's call him T-Bone) introducing it to me. That he introduced me was not the wildly entertaining part, that he felt compelled to bring the bottle so I wouldn't think he was "trying to persuade co-workers to grate cat turds onto their food, in the ultimate practical joke" is the part I can't stop giggling about. He then allowed me to pluck a few berries from the bottle and place them in a baggie. (He also expressed concerns that just bringing a few of these berries in a baggie may cause him to look like some sort of pusher of illicit substances.)

I can't quite put my finger on it--maybe it is that he is a highly pleasant, middle-aged, white man of kind demeanor (for whom "T-Bone" is a delightfully ironic, or at least confusing, moniker)--but I am still fucking chuckling that it is in his mind (somewhere) to try and trick co-workers into shaving cat turds onto their dinner. Apparently I learned two things: Long pepper rocks, and T-Bone has a depth and nuance clearly worth exploring.

Science: Teaching us that even our most mild-mannered colleagues imagine tricking their enemies into shaving cat turds onto their food.