Stew "the Rock"–ACTION COCKEREL!

He primps,
he pimps,
he preens.

He's Stew Standish, Plymouth Barred Rock Rooster of Hickory Nut Ridge.


"So, ladies, beak to beak here, do you think it was because I told her she was a good lay?"


"Now if this doesn't do it for 'ya...

...maybe this will!"

Why did the chicken cross the yard?
'Cause he's Free-Range Stew Standish,
Rooster-about-the-Ridge, that's why!

"The Rock" of the Walk

"Hey, now this ought to give you something to cluck about, home girls!"

"I've gotta crow!
I'm just the cleverest fellow
'twas ever my fortune to know..."



Stew Standish, Barred Rock Rooster, somewhere on a ridge in Kentucky.
Chicken Express cardholder: 5 months.
Average number of "crows" per day: 47.
Number in hen harem: 30.
Days in the field: possibly numbered.
Uninhibited chicken fornication? Priceless.

To Tennessee and Back and a Bit of History, too

Yesterday was one of those unexpected ambles into new territory. We Ponds like to take day trips whenever possible and lured by the promise of adventure–and antiques (even our boys are in on that act)–and a decent meal, it isn't hard to pry us away from our familiar. With our boys starting school on Monday, we wanted to take the opportunity for a day's jaunt while we could. We decided to avoid the larger interstates so went down Route 27 from Somerset which crosses into the Tennessee mountains and eventually to our destination. Of course it took four and half hours to get there but that included an hour stop for lunch and another bit of time at an antique mall. PHOTO: The Rhea County Courthouse in Dayton, Tennessee is the preserved and well-interpreted site of the infamous Scopes "Monkey Trial" of 1925.














In Harriman, Tennessee just north of I-40, we stopped to have lunch at an unpretentious place called Steak and Country Restaurant [812 North Roane Street, Highway 27, 865-882-5198]. It was located at an old gas station and I sneered at my husband (but should learn by now, especially with road food, that looks are not everything). However, I'd already turned down two other "Mom and Pop" places just north based on things like no cars in lot, signage and just a general feeling of "uh uh." I also banned Subway (and we must have passed ten of them, even in small towns), son Henry's usual pick, or Sonic, son Eli's, as much as those places are OK in a pinch. [We figured if we didn't find the right lunch spot, there was always reliable Cracker Barrel, which yup, turned out to be right near the I-40 Harriman exit a bit further south.]

Well, pantry friends, let me just tell you that Steak and Country is worthy of a Jane and Michael Stern "Road Food" endorsement. I was immediately heartened by the "No Smoking Allowed" sign on the door (something I took for granted in New England but not so common here). We were relieved, in a way, that their cherry cobbler sold out the day before, but were rewarded and satisfied with our lunch choices. Temple had the hamburger steak with grilled onions and peppers; Eli chose a vast double-cheeseburger and fries that looked pretty darned amazing. Henry wanted to try the luncheon special of roast beef (more like what we know as pot roast in New England), gravy and mashed potatoes while I chose the 3-piece fried chicken plate (I know, the diet thing but remember my new and occasional motto, "make it cheat-worthy") for $6.99. With two sides–coleslaw and corn nuggets–and a square of cornbread, you can't beat the price. [We also made it the main meal of our day as we hadn't bothered with breakfast earlier.]

I admit to often judging a Mom and Pop kind of place by their coleslaw. I've found that no restaurant potato salad has ever compared to my own version, but coleslaw is another thing altogether. Our friendly, welcoming waitress said that a woman drives over from Knoxville (an hour or so east) to buy their coleslaw by the tub. Well, it was easy to taste why: just enough mayo to bind it all together, if any at all, a good infusion of vinegar and just a bit of sweetness. I believe I detected finely minced kale amidst the cabbage and carrot, along with a bit of pepper and onion. Also, the key was in the finely diced vegetables which were able to hold and absorb the lighter dressing. Meanwhile, their delicious corn nuggets were made from small clumps of corn kernels encased in a light, sweet corn bread batter. Their squares of cornbread, however, were a bit dusty–the traditional Southern kind we usually find in restaurants and probably better suited to sopping up bowls of beans or chili.

You are probably thinking, enough food already, where did they actually go? An antique shop in Dayton, Tennessee–Time Worn Treasures–opened in May of this year with the contents of the former Primitive Settlement, an outdoor recreated historic village in Cleveland, Tennessee. The village closed upon the death of the two collector owners and then it went to an estate auction [the original cabins, authentic but relocated, are also for sale]. The shop is only open three days a week but the owners allowed us to come down and see some of their wares yesterday. My husband is interested in old blacksmith equipment and the shop owners, Richard Kinzalow and Kim Swatzell, have the former blacksmith shop set up in theirs.

I found an old bread board from the Settlement's collection as well as a could-not-pass-up black walnut jelly cupboard, made in Tennessee in the mid 19th century. It is a treat for our once and future farmhouse and a bit of a splurge, but in this antiques recession, definitely affordable (well, let's just say we did our annual bit to stimulate the antiques economy). Richard even threw in a blue glass jar of authentic jam, likely blackberry, that had come with the cupboard. Kim says he actually opened and tried some but folks, don't try that at home (while canned and preserved goods have been known to keep for decades, it's not worth the risk of botulism). I will treasure my unopened keepsake jar in the cupboard for all time, with a note attached about when and where we purchased the cupboard. [This time around, my husband had the chance to sneer!] PHOTO: The backside of the jam cupboard has painted writing: "Painted July 21, 1916" However at one point in the last century the paint was removed to restore the original black walnut patina (unless the note meant "stained").


A jam cupboard for Catherine's future farm kitchen...with some original filled jars of jam on the top shelf that were found with it. The cupboard even fit in the back of the Honda Pilot but Temple is returning on Friday with a friend–and our small trailer–to pick up some of the blacksmith equipment he purchased.


And now for the history portion of our blog: I am sorry to say that until yesterday I had only a vague and distant memory of the Scopes "Monkey Trial" of 1925. Let me just take this time to mention that one of several regrets of my high school education is that I was not more attentive in Mr. Ron Ouellette's excellent Civics and Government classes–Mr. Ouellette, if you are reading this, apologies for my note-passing and idle chatting–I was rude, horrible and should have been pilloried. On the way down, I casually mentioned to my husband that Dayton was the location of the 1925 John Scopes "Monkey" Trial. My husband just about cartwheeled the car down the highway. "The SCOPES trial! I have always wanted to see the courthouse where that took place! I can't believe this!" PHOTO: Attorney Clarence Darrow, an atheist, defended John Scopes in the famous trial that pitted Darwin's theories of evolution with Biblical Creationism.


The original jury seats are still used in the courtroom today, which had a very Southern To Killing a Mockingbird kind of air about it.

My husband, you must understand, routinely fills in all of the gaps of my historic and decorative arts background (which includes two degrees in historic-related stuff). I can admit here now, twenty-plus years after the culmination of both degrees, that I'm not sure what I've retained except for the ability to write, reason and question and to read a wide variety of subjects. I also have the mixed blessing of an unprofitable talent for constructive criticism, navigation and map-reading (all which I've had since the age of five). But that's a huge endorsement for a liberal arts education, I suppose, as well as the pleasures of majoring in art history and English literature. PHOTO: The original clock still hangs on the wall of the courtroom at the Rhea County Courthouse in Dayton, Tennessee.

My thirst for knowledge and too many interests has also contributed to an extremely bad case of ADD which has been aggravated in recent years by the addition and continued fine-tuning of the domestic arts and parenting skills. Temple not only remembers historical events, whether lived or read about, but has an uncanny knack for detail and retains facts about things long after he has read about them. [I will proudly note, like some of the smartest people I have known in this world, that my husband does not have any formal higher education. Truth be told, I know many ignorant, narrow-minded people without degrees as well as many ignorant, narrow-minded people who have them. As with everything, it works both ways.]

Our boys were as fascinated with the preserved courthouse on the Dayton town square as we were. Before we spent some time in the famous courtroom upstairs we went through the exhibit, learning more about the famous "Monkey trial" which put public school teacher John Scopes on trial for teaching evolution in school after a Tennessee law banning it (the trial was famously tried by William Jennings Bryan for the prosecution and Clarence Darrow for the defense). Perhaps the most moving thing for all of us was to sit in the actual jury and courtroom chairs still present, and still in use today, on the second floor. The best way to experience history, I always say, is through being in the preserved places and buildings and landscapes of our past. PHOTO: William Jennings Bryan prosecuted John Scopes, who was found guilty of teaching evolution and fined $100. The Southern heat was so intense that some of the trial was held on the courthouse lawn. Bryan died in his sleep in Dayton, only days after the trial ended.

As for Creationism vs. Darwinism, let's just say I believe there is plenty of room for faith-based religion and the theorems and proofs of scientific discovery, as well as a bit of mystery in all realms. Because of yesterday's visit, I am now fascinated to learn more about both schools of thought in light of our modern age and to hopefully help better answer some of the questions of my children, if not myself. [I was also taught in Sunday school that the "seven days of Creation" in the Bible were likely based in a different variable of applied time so imagine my surprise when I grew up and discovered that some people took the seven days literally or refuted archaeological evidence. But who am I to say?] PHOTO: Part of the excellent display of artifacts and other historic images and interpretive panels at the Rhea County Courthouse.

Our next (unexpected) stop was at a big yard sale set up off of Highway 127 just north of Pikeville, after crossing from Highway 27 (both interstates that parallel each other north-south through the western Appalachians) along Route 30 over a beautiful mountain pass (and into Central Time). I will blog about the Highway 127 Yard Sale in a few days, as it has not officially begun and I plan to hit some local sales on the weekend. Needless to say, it was a fun start to the festivities.

However, we did have another unexpected historic moment. While my husband has a great memory for historical facts and events, he had forgotten that Pall Mall, the home place of Sergeant Alvin C. York, the most decorated American soldier in World War I, was along Highway 127, just about eight miles south of the Kentucky border in the Tennessee highlands. [This is why I navigate and he drives.] Years ago on a trip home to New Hampshire from New Mexico, he and his father made a pilgrimage to the Sergeant York farm, burial ground and other sites in Pall Mall. We stopped at the burial ground and drove by the other historic spots as they were closed. Our boys definitely want to return soon and we will, as it isn't too far from where we live in Kentucky.

Just north of the Cumberland plateau that extends from Crossville, Tennessee north on Highway 127, and before Pall Mall all the way to the Kentucky border and over it, we almost felt like we had driven into Vermont or New Hampshire. The drive had more historic architecture, hills and dales, and woodlands that clung to the winding roads than we had seen in the countryside here before. So a future day trip to plan–perhaps in the golden days of autumn before hunkering in for winter. In the meantime it was a fitting end to our day of antiques, history and adventure. It is always so much fun to explore–to discover what's around the next bend in the road–and even sweeter still to come home again.


Blue moon of Kentucky, keep on shining...The full August moon rises at a diner where we stopped for an uneventful late supper just into Kentucky.

A Special Shout-Out to all of my Pantry Peeps (and Home Girls, Farmer Boys et al)

Just a quick note to say that I will soon be offering this snazzy In the Pantry button. The goal is to have the button in my sidebar for you to access and upload my blog (or website) In the Pantry into your own sites. For that I would be truly grateful! [Hey, I might even have to make mugs and T-shirts...] But, even the best walk-through directions via the internet are not always fool-proof, at least with this blogger, so bear with me. I just had to give you a preview.

Meanwhile, my webmaster, over at CatherinePond.com, the amazing Ronald Gehrmann at MetaGlyph (who I can't say enough good things about: he is a great designer and works for such a reasonable fee and remotely at that–we've never even met–that I'm not sure how he does it) has designed, as well as this "pantry button," a new wallpaper for this blog. I was inspired by a simple pantry-related design that I'm hoping he can translate into a new wallpaper. But we'll see. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I have more corn to freeze, salsa and ketchup to make and other summer bounty to take care of before it passes. And boys to get back to school on Monday. And a weekend of Route 127 yard sale to slog through in Casey County (twist my arm--we were just in Tennessee yesterday doing the same and I promise a blog soon on that). So we're busy here on the ridge and I'm trying to avoid any and all computer temptations for the moment, especially technical ones where the outcome is not guaranteed. [Also, dear Pantry readers, I have not forgotten my promise to post a blog about root cellars...]

Thank you, as always, for reading and welcome, again, to all of my new readers. I hope you'll keep coming back for more from the pantry.

Blessings,

Catherine

She's Gotta Have It: Chocolate Cake

Let me just preface this blog entry by saying that for the past several months, since mid-May, my husband and I have been doing a medically monitored, low-glycemic diet.

No gastric bypass, no meals delivered to our door, no points, no gimmicks. Just sensible eating and complete behavior modification with our own food choices. And Jessie Ventura, as harsh as he seemed, was right: "Every fat person says it's not their fault, that they have gland trouble. You know which gland? The saliva gland. They can't push away from the table."

So far my husband has lost nearly 40 pounds and I am hovering near 30 and counting. Yes, and thank you, kudos to us. It isn't always easy but most days it is, surprisingly, and with our own modifications we've made it work for us without total deprivation or guilt. One day at a time: it is so true. And like the pounds that come off, the days add up, too. Doing this together also helps. We're both mutual "food enablers" and have enjoyed eating our way through our 13-year marriage. [Ironically, our wedding bands will soon need to be re-sized.] I still have only skimmed through the manual but by preparing and eating our own food with certain things in mind (eg. no white flour, sugar, butter or oil for starters and just think of what that eliminates in one fell swoop!), making our own choices, and having a monthly weigh-in with our doctor, while competing somewhat with my husband, seems to be working well for us. On a scale of 1-10, we are probably around 7 on the "good patient" scale. IMAGE, above, by Anne Taintor.

We have both taken vacations this summer where we have been tempted by restaurant fare, and also treated ourselves, and I can say without hesitation that we are successful with our food choices for the most part but have also had the occasional "treat." Mostly, however, we are learning to modify portions, eat when hungry and to make good choices when eating. Mindful eating. So far it's working. I can also count on both hands, and then some, the amount of indulgences I've had these past two and half months but I can also tell you that I did not let them completely derail me. [And I've also learned if I am going to "cheat" it had better be a darned worthy food item and to cheat while playing the "bait and switch" game: OK, you can have this but you can't also have this and this.] So I had, I enjoyed, I moved on and right back into my fruit bowls, salads and small portions of meat.

In all of this important process, however, I've missed baking. I've occasionally craved pie, to the point where I could have eaten my way through a pie shop. For a few weeks I dreamt of pie, I made it in my mind, I could taste the luscious tart rhubarb and the buttery crust. I knew what kind I would make (rhubarb). So I began to read recipes about food I couldn't have, looked at photographs, poured over food magazines and favorite cookbooks, reading recipes aloud to my husband, emailed friends. "Food porn," I called it. Look, but don't eat. PHOTO: My friend Linda's rhubarb pie with a special "secret" ingredient, baked for us last summer in New Hampshire.

However yesterday, after our "local food" kick-off at Melvin and Anna's, I couldn't stop thinking about chocolate cake. I craved it, I craved baking it. I blame the two ears of corn and two slices of homemade white bread I had at lunch during our "corn frolic": it was a "kick off" for my taste buds. Gimme some more of that old-time sugary goodness, Catherine! Ah, come on. Just a little bit. It won't KILL you, now, will it? Then I envisioned the following ingredients: cocoa, baking chocolate, sour cream, butter, buttermilk and brown sugar all in one concoction (and yes, all in my cupboard or refrigerator–Rule #1: don't keep any "bad" foods on hand). So, of course, I Googled those ingredients and found not just any chocolate cake but this recipe for "Chocolate Sour Cream Buttermilk Bundt Cake" at the Cookie Madness blog. More of a pound cake, it is dense and chocolaty and not overly sweet. It would have been divine with an icing but I figured I'd better not push the envelope or gild the lily any further. PHOTO: Eli's 5th birthday party (and yes, homemade chocolate cake, his request).

Our boys were delighted to see me baking again this evening. I told them it was an "off the wagon" moment and a special treat (and OK, so I made homemade blackberry muffins yesterday, too, modified from the "Blueberry Muffins" recipe in the Screened Doors and Sweet Tea cookbook, by Martha Foose, a favorite Christmas present from my husband).

I have, for now, tempered the baking beast within and will likely not do this again until the holidays. Then, especially, any baking around that time must be tempered with lots of vegetables and fruit and yogurt (and Zumba classes at the YMCA: my next "lifestyle" change will be adding more regular exercise). I also envision the day, and we're really not there yet, when I can take a day, let's say Sunday, and make it into a celebration of food for our family: a comforting Sunday dinner, a special dessert. A day to indulge a bit, to pause after a week of hard work in all realms. PHOTO: Thanksgiving 2008, our first in Kentucky. I was so sick that my husband prepared most of the meal, bless him.

Tonight, while in my baking nirvana, I was reminded of this quote from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver about why it is that I love to bake and to cook for those I love and how it is that my mindset has begun to change more towards food as nourishment and not as a narcotic:

Now that I’m decades older and much less clever than I was in college, I’m getting better at facing life’s routines the way my friend faces his cornfield. I haven’t mastered the serene mindset on all household chores (What do you do for fun around here? I scrub pots and pans, okay??), but I might be getting there with cooking. Eternal is the right frame of mind for making food for a family: cooking down the tomatoes into a red-gold oregano-scented sauce for pasta. Before that, harvesting sun-ripened fruits, pinching oregano leaves from their stems, growing these things from seed—yes. A lifetime is what I’m after. Cooking is definitely one of the things we do for fun around here. When I’m in a blue mood I head for the kitchen. I turn the pages of my favorite cookbooks, summoning the prospective joyful noise of a shared meal. I stand over a bubbling soup, close my eyes, and inhale. From the ground up, everything about nourishment steadies my soul.

This summer has been about that for me: to reexamine why and what I eat, when and where I eat, and how I can eat in a better way or to prepare better food for my family. How I can control the food and not the other way around. To nourish, not neglect. With food, it can be a fine line. But if we honor ourselves and each other in fellowship, and then by honoring the food made with real ingredients or prepared in its most elemental way–all while not being punitive about the occasional treat–then we are not allowing the food to rule over us. We can truly enjoy its taste, the smell of it, the delectable qualities that we desire and the company that we share while eating it. That said, I was just as delighted when my doctor said I could toss out my blood pressure medication the other day. To nourish, not neglect. Here is to celebrating the beings that we are and to nourishing the person and the soul within us–and to nourish the people that we love with good food.

PHOTO, above, left: My mother, Henry and Eli at Mom's 65th birthday celebration at our house in Hancock, New Hampshire, February 2004. PHOTO, above, right: A favorite Thanksgiving decoration that Henry made long ago: "I am thankful for 'Thanksgiving' 'Turkey' 'My Family' 'Potatoes' "













Henry, Addie and Eli at Addie's 19th birthday party, June 2007, our last full year in New Hampshire.

Incredible Corn!

We didn't intend to start off Eat Local! month by doing so in such a down-home grand style but that's just what we did. All morning we husked corn at Melvin and Anna's farm and for noon dinner we had, well, yes, corn! But we also had a squash casserole I brought (recipe below, using local vegetables), fresh homemade bread that their daughter Grace had made, thick and juicy slices of heirloom tomatoes from their garden, as well as two kinds of melon, also their own (a musk melon and a yellow-fleshed watermelon). PHOTO: Eli chomps on a raw ear of corn!

The corn itself is the "Incredible" variety and very sweet with pale butter-colored kernels. Melvin said it is still just a bit early and our batch was more like creamed corn in texture when we cut it off the husks (but we'll take it!). Perhaps as it matures a bit more the kernels will be more yellow. Melvin planted many rows a few weeks apart so they will. We intend to freeze 50 quarts or so for our chest freezer: enough for our family and for Melvin and Anna, too. [Anna will also can some as well.] A farm wagon load full yielded 18 quart bags ready for the freezer and enough for six people to eat their fill at dinner (several dozen by the looks of it). We had it husked, cooked, cut and in bags by our noon meal (in three hours time). The day was less humid than it has been this week and the morning hours perfect for getting the job done.

Melvin and our son Henry, who has learned to drive a team of horses, even had time to deliver musk melons to the produce station at South Fork Produce–a 10-mile round trip by horse and wagon. Anna had also gone through the bushels of corn first to pick out the best ears (eg. those with minimal insect or critter intrusion, if any) for the produce stand, a communal business effort in the summer, and bagged them up into several five-dozen bags. After that we were able to begin our husking–Temple, Eli and myself–while Anna got the kettles ready in her walk-out cellar canning kitchen.


Cantaloupes have not fared as well this summer because of cooler, rainier weather here in Kentucky. Meanwhile, August is the start of watermelon season.





Barbara Kingsolver writes in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle–A Year of Food Life that "corn (is) sweetest if you essentially boil (it) alive." (Isn't everything?) This book, which I've been delighting in all summer long, is a testament to how we can live and eat locally if we truly set our minds–and gardens–to doing so. You can even eat locally without having a garden if you support your local farmer. In addition to Kingsolver's observations about the food we eat, and the cycle of their year, in her luminous prose, there are recipes and musings from her husband and daughter. To succeed in their mission to go entirely "local" for one year, they all had to participate. It is something I have been striving to do more for my family as I try to go to the box stores less. Summer is the ideal time to begin this mission and having a pantry, root cellar and/or chest freezer also suitably arms one for this endeavor. [All of that said, I will not ignore the lovely trucked-in citrus and bananas this winter in all of their colorful tropical glory.]

Meanwhile, our corn haul, in the freezer six hours after being picked, couldn't be more fresh. This is how we went about it and I figure it is a ten step process–from corn to can (or freezer bag)–as seen below:


1. Pick the corn in the field (or at the produce market). [Thanks to Melvin–he had picked a wagon load full by 9am when we arrived–and thank you Hazel (left) and Charlie (right) who certainly helped, too.]


















2. Husk corn.


3. Rub corn silk off of ears–I found that a white cotton dish towel gently applied works well for silk removal.
4. Cut out any wormy tops–this corn is not sprayed and we do not mind the worms here and there, especially if it means chemical-free.


5. Wash corn ears in sink. [Anna's divided sink–into three sections–works well for this kind of task.]


6. Steam corn ears in large pot for 5 minutes.


7. Cool down cooked corn ears in sink.
8. Cut corn from cobs into large bowl.
9. Put corn in quart bags.


10. OPTIONAL: Chill quart bags of corn on sheet on cement cellar floor before taking home to chest freezer.

If you can the corn in a pressure cooker, it would add a few more steps or replace them (eg. jar washing and lid sterilizing, as well as canning time). Freezing it seems to be the best way to preserve its fresh flavor (and besides, I fear pressure canners).

We will have a few more corn-huskings and freezings before the season is over and keep Anna and Melvin's corn handy in our freezer for when they need it. I've ordered 35 more Cornish X meat birds that will arrive in mid-September that we will butcher altogether in early November (to also freeze on our ridge). It is true that many hands make light work–and more fun with friends and family. Even the "farm yard special" puppy Schnoofler, brother to our puppies, enjoyed chomping on a few ears. I was reminded that it was a year ago this weekend that I met Anna and Melvin, when we arrived from New Hampshire, tired and weary. Temple had already met them but I hadn't had the pleasure yet. Now I can't imagine ever not knowing them. It's just like that with true friends, isn't it?

The other day Anna and I were in our local Goodwill in Somerset. You never know what you might find. In addition to an old vintage half-apron with rickrack for 0.75 cents I picked up a 1999 issue of Southern Living for a quarter. This particular issue was testament to the not-to-distant golden years when magazines were thick with advertisements and thicker still with recipes. I went through the issue before I went to sleep and came upon this recipe for "Savory Squash." It occurred to me, while Anna hadn't asked, that it would be nice if we brought something for the noon dinner. [It was also a joy to put the meal together for her, as she was so much better at taking the corn off the cob. So I helped to husk and got the meal and did the dishes while Anna cut the corn off and juggled around all of the ears from sink to kettle to sink to bowl. I bagged the corn in between.]

I liked the idea of this dish as I had squash to use and also knew that I had sour cream and shredded cheese in the fridge. I was pleased to even find some cornflakes in the back of the cereal cupboard this morning. The whole thing took about 30 minutes to prepare this morning before heading out the door and I baked it just before our noon meal after topping it with the cornflake/butter mixture (you could also use bread crumbs). PHOTO, above: Henry crumbles up the cornflakes in a sealable plastic bag.













Savory Squash
As found in "Weeknight Standbys," page 225, Southern Living, May 1999 [from Valerie Hallman, Casseroles Etc., Hoover, Alabama]

• 10 to 12 large yellow squash, sliced (I used a few zucchini but it would be better using all yellow squash)
• 1 large onion, sliced
• 1 (8-ounce) container sour cream
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1/4 tsp. pepper (I always use more)
• 1 1/2 cups (6 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
• 2 cups cornflakes cereal, crushed
• 3 Tbsps. butter, melted

1. Cook squash and onion in boiling water to cover 20 minutes; drain well, pressing between paper towels. [NOTE: while squash was boiling I sautéed the onion in a bit of oil as opposed to steaming.]
2. Stir together squash mixture, sour cream, salt, and pepper. Spoon into lightly greased 13x9 inch baking dish. Top with cheese. Stir together cornflake crumbs and melted butter; sprinkle over casserole.
3. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. YIELD: 8 to 10 servings.