by guest blogger, Vrinda Manglik
an editors note: I want to pay special thanks to Vrinda for sharing, not only, some beautiful words here but also a delicious recipe that is one of a kind on DailyMade, so far. A few weeks ago a very close friend asked me to put up instructions for ‘how to make a vegan and wheat-free meal’ and I must say, its a challenge I’d been avoiding. Thanks to Vrinda, my friend has a delicious dish to start with and, more importantly, I can go back to guilt-less-ly making my floury buttery dishes, at least for now.
xo, pascale
How to Share Heartache by Vrinda Manglik
We’d been fighting a lot for the past few weeks – over small annoyances, over time, over differences in communication styles, over wanting to be fully accepted and accepting, over resisting change, over pushing too hard for change, over doubts and intentions and needing more attention and time together, or maybe it was more time apart? Over whether we should be trying so hard, or maybe we weren’t trying hard enough?
I washed a squash, and cut it in half lengthwise, placed it on a baking sheet in the oven, and left it there while I walked to the corner store on North Capitol for more olive oil and for wine, the sky already dark and the leaves already changing. There was a boxing match on the TV in the store, and I told them I didn’t need a bag. I walked back and checked on the squash, feeling the heat from the oven as I opened the door. As it softened and cooked, I made a salad with dandelion greens, carrots, and tomatoes from his garden. I washed and dried the vegetables, cutting them on the plastic cutting board, and tossing the stems into the compost bucket on the back porch.
He came to the door and I let him in, we kissed and hugged, and I can’t even remember how our conversation started, but we sat there on the red couch and talked and cried about trying, and understanding and not understanding, and how I really didn’t realize I was hurting him so much. Was it worth the effort? We cried, and hugged, and were confused together, my legs wrapped around his waist, throat and eyes sore from crying. “I love you so.”
When the squash was done, looking golden and moist in the oven, I pulled out the baking sheets with blue oven mitts, and set the sheets on top of the stove. With the mitts still on, I used a metal fork to scrape out the spaghetti-strand-flesh, delighted at the ease with which the flesh peeled away from the skin, into perfect strands. I put them in a bowl, and then into the frying pan with chopped garlic, olive oil, dried basil, salt, and freshly chopped tomatoes. It sizzled and smelled like spaghetti sauce – with the squash a little firmer than spaghetti would be. I dressed the salad with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and placed it all on the dining room table.
Our conversation continued, and we decided we’d think about it for a few days, and then “I think I should leave.” What about the food – aren’t you hungry? Starving, but what would we talk about, sitting down together, after all this? I looked at the food waiting on the table with the dim lighting. “Some people show love with food,” I offered, gently touching his hand, and trying not to sound like I’d be too affected if he left before eating, but knowing that I was really pleading please let me love you, let me nourish you.
We got up to sit down in the chairs silently, our bodies weighted with the heaviness of love and unanswered questions between us. We were weak and exhausted from all the crying, and asking, and explaining. The squash wasn’t really warm anymore, but it was still delicious and felt healing. And so we ate the spaghetti squash, which was rich with garlic, tomatoes, and olive oil. The salad was cool, and the sour balsamic vinegar trickled on my plate towards the squash.
We cleared our plates and washed them, packing leftovers into containers for him to take home. We didn’t want to part, even though we were both tired, and it seemed like going our separate ways would be the right thing to do tonight – we needed time to think, and shouldn’t let ourselves be confused by intimacy. Falling asleep without him that night, my soul felt drained and knotted and confused, but I felt comforted by the discovery of his scent on my pillow and sheets.
Spaghetti Squash
- One large spaghetti squash
- Several cloves garlic
- Olive oil
- Dried basil
- Salt
- 2-3 fresh tomatoes
Slice open the squash, lengthwise, scoop out the seeds, and place in oven on a baking sheet at 350. Bake for roughly half an hour, or until the squash is soft and richly colored. Remove from oven, and scrape out squash flesh with a fork. When it’s done, it should easily separate into strands with a fork. If it doesn’t, place back in oven.
In a frying pan, heat up some olive oil, chopped up garlic, chopped tomatoes, and dried basil. Once the garlic starts to turn golden, add the strands of spaghetti squash, and cook for about 10 minutes, making sure to mix the tomatoes, garlic, and basil throughout the squash. Serve hot.
