There’s a certain happy healthy glow that our green grociers take on at this time of the year. Tender baby vegetables make their way to the market stalls and I troll the bins like a zombie – cash in hand. The long winter and the cold beginning of spring has supressed my horticultural libido. Like those prowling fonricating woodland animals outside my door, I want nay need to fulfill my urges.

At the moment, I’m imagining eating butter yellow pattypan squash. I can feel the satisfying slice into the quartered bite with my incisors. Breaching the waxy skin and delving into the dense sponge of its flesh, pushing the cleaved morsels to back to front with my tongue to experience the whole thing over again. Simply sauteed with butter, salt, and white pepper I get excited; eating something so vital, so sunny, so humble. If I’m lucky, I’ll find small squash, the size of a cherry tomatoes – roast them whole in Spanish olive oil and topped with coarse salt along side a finely roasted chicken.

The crisp skins of both chicken and vegetables giving way to the juicy flesh in an orally scintillating, synestheticically sexual feeling.

Hungry… pattypan squash

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pattypan_squash