Dust in the Mouth

Wednesday 22nd September

Day 154

There is something wrong with our Crown Prince Squash. The one we picked at the allotment a few weeks ago. The biggest and best of only three, hanging from it’s vine like an early Christmas present.

It looks and feels perfect - misty silver grey skin, heavy as a head. But when I hack through the bone-hard outer rind, the flesh inside, which should be bright marigold orange, is more of a mustardy yellow. I scrape out the ridges of flat seeds in the centre clinging to their fibrous bedding. The texture is too soft, too wood pulpy.

I roast it anyway, chopped into large boat wedges, painted with olive oil and scattered with salt crystals. And hope that all will be well once the oven has done its magic.

It smells good. It looks ready to eat - with glowing crisp brown edges. I cut into a segment - it’s rigid tough on the outside. The flesh which should be juicy sweet collapses into powdery crumbs. It tastes like dust in my mouth. A disappointment hard to swallow.