It's dill weed.
Perhaps not such an earth-shattering revelation but that's it. Heat the skillet, melt a modest amount of butter and sprinkle in dill, salt, and pepper. Add in the chopped squash.
I found this recipe online and, having a cabinet full of spices inherited heaven knows how far down the line of roommates past, pulled the little Tone's brand dill out of the back. Looking now on Wikipedia it seems Tone's hasn't been around since 2004. Oh well, still good.
On tasting the finished squash I had three thoughts. Firstly, ow I just burnt my tongue. Secondly, that warm, comfort food feeling I always get from warm butter. One of my favorite experiences is biting into a toasted sesame seed bagel with butter. It reminds me of being under multiple blankets on a cold winter's day.
Thirdly, the dill. It's what my grandmother used to use. When I was cooking with it I didn't realize it; but when I bit in the memories came flooding back. I'm there, in my grandmother's house, eating...something. I can't remember what the dill was in (hopefully my mother will read this and fill me in), but I can vividly remember the moment.
I remember being very young, before the confusion of puberty, the trauma of high school, and chaos of adulthood. I remember life, for better or worse, being simple.
Perhaps not such an earth-shattering revelation but that's it. Heat the skillet, melt a modest amount of butter and sprinkle in dill, salt, and pepper. Add in the chopped squash.
I found this recipe online and, having a cabinet full of spices inherited heaven knows how far down the line of roommates past, pulled the little Tone's brand dill out of the back. Looking now on Wikipedia it seems Tone's hasn't been around since 2004. Oh well, still good.
On tasting the finished squash I had three thoughts. Firstly, ow I just burnt my tongue. Secondly, that warm, comfort food feeling I always get from warm butter. One of my favorite experiences is biting into a toasted sesame seed bagel with butter. It reminds me of being under multiple blankets on a cold winter's day.
Thirdly, the dill. It's what my grandmother used to use. When I was cooking with it I didn't realize it; but when I bit in the memories came flooding back. I'm there, in my grandmother's house, eating...something. I can't remember what the dill was in (hopefully my mother will read this and fill me in), but I can vividly remember the moment.
I remember being very young, before the confusion of puberty, the trauma of high school, and chaos of adulthood. I remember life, for better or worse, being simple.
