Now that the spaghetti squash has been steamed and cooled off, it's starting to look more interesting.
Let's take a closer look, shall we?
The writhing nest of strands I expected upon opening the squash magically appear at the teasing of a fork, and only after the brute has been cooked. Now we're back to the fun!
I sampled a few strands and was pleased with the slightly al dente texture and (as that squashy/sweet potatoey flavor isn't my very favorite) the faint flavor of squash. If I had cooked it a few minutes less so the strands were crunchier, I think they would have made a fantastic base for a Thai style salad. I can't imagine how foul it would be topped with Ragu and green box cheese.
As it was, my first thought was "Hmm, it's almost the texture of shredded potatoes. Latkes!!" I sliced some onions paper thin and tossed them with the squash strands, one lightly beaten egg, and a pinch of salt. In the minute it took me to throw this together, I had some oil preheating in a pan over medium high heat. I dropped the mixture by the heaping spoonful into the oil and flattened it into patty shape with the back of the spoon. I would guess about 4 minutes per side, but using the "keep peeking till it's an appealing golden brown" method is all I can attest to. And voila!
They were . . . interesting. The never developed that crunchy crust you expect with a latke, and really came out more like a regular pancake than a potato pancake. The squash turned creamy, and even though the croquettes were about half an inch thick, the onion became so sweet that they were equally good eaten with a garlic pepper sauce and the aforementioned commercial maple syrup, of which we will never speak again. Weird, right?!
Corey actually consented to try a bite. He didn't make throw up noises, but I was shooting higher.
I used the rest of the squash in an 'interpretation' of quesadillas. I smeared a soft taco size flour tortilla with the garlic pepper sauce (sorry, this bottle doesn't have a website. You could use salsa, or whatever savory moist thing you like), put it face up on a griddle, spread spag squash strands evenly, added roasted tomato slices, topped with thinly slices of smoked Gouda, and capped the whole mess with another flour tortilla. Peek till golden, flip, peek, remove from heat, cut in quarters, consume. Repeat all. None of which I got a photo of, but they looked exactly like all other quesadillas ever.
Again Corey, my dear good sport, consented to a bite.
Then he finished the entire slice.
Then he voluntarily took and finished another slice.
Then he said "That was good."
By far this was the absolute height of my culinary non-career so far. And it gave me hope that perhaps, one day, I might breach his asparagus barricade.