Butternut Tabbouleh

September 2027 and Wren was three weeks old and getting stronger. Hannah was managing with the particular exhausted competence of a new mother who has resources around her—she was never alone if she didn't want to be, and she often didn't want to be. Thomas was home for the first month and I came over two or three evenings a week. Caleb brought River twice and River stood at a respectful distance from the baby and studied her with the assessment of someone encountering a previously unknown species.

River asked me privately why Wren didn't do more. I said she was still learning. He said he had things he could teach her. I said in a few years that would be true. He seemed to find this timeline acceptable.

The fall garden was coming in and I was spending more time at the land than usual, partly for the harvest and partly because I'd been thinking about what the next projects were. The barn was as functional as it needed to be. The food forest was established. The garden was working. The natural next thing was the house—not immediately, but the planning had to start at some point. Caleb and I had talked about it abstractly for a year. This fall it started to feel like something that needed to become concrete.

I called an architect I'd been referred to through the Cherokee Nation's housing design program—she worked specifically with families building on traditional land and understood both the practical and the cultural dimensions of what a house on this land needed to be. We talked for an hour on the phone. She said to send her photos of the land and describe what I wanted the house to do. I did both. That was the beginning.

That fall, while I was walking the land and thinking about foundations—literal ones, the kind an architect helps you place—the garden kept doing what gardens do: producing whether or not you’re ready. Butternut squash doesn’t wait for you to finish your phone calls or sort out your plans, and honestly I was grateful for that. I made this tabbouleh the week after I first spoke with the architect, using squash I’d pulled that morning, and something about the act of turning the harvest into a meal felt like its own kind of beginning—grounded, tangible, real in a way that blueprints and timelines aren’t yet.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 small butternut squash (about 1 1/2 lbs), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 cup bulgur wheat
1 1/2 cups boiling water
1 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup pomegranate seeds (optional, but recommended for fall color)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil (for dressing)
1 small garlic clove, minced

Instructions

Roast the squash. Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss butternut squash cubes with 1 tablespoon olive oil, cumin, salt, and pepper. Spread on a baking sheet in a single layer and roast 20—25 minutes, turning once, until tender and lightly caramelized at the edges. Set aside to cool slightly.
Hydrate the bulgur. Place bulgur in a large heatproof bowl. Pour boiling water over it, cover with a plate or plastic wrap, and let stand 15 minutes until water is absorbed. Fluff with a fork and let cool to room temperature.
Make the dressing. Whisk together lemon juice, remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil, minced garlic, and a pinch of salt in a small bowl.
Combine. Add parsley, mint, green onions, and cherry tomatoes to the cooled bulgur. Fold in the roasted butternut squash gently so the cubes stay intact.
Dress and finish. Pour dressing over the tabbouleh and toss to combine. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt, pepper, or additional lemon juice. Scatter pomegranate seeds over the top if using.
Rest and serve. Let the tabbouleh sit for at least 10 minutes before serving to allow flavors to meld. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.

Nutrition (per serving)

Butternut Tabbouleh — What the Garden Gave Us While We Were Planning Everything Else