I love this time of year. I love walking into my local grocery store and seeing what kind of weird shit they have.
Fall produce is particularly entertaining. Knobby roots, strange little gourds, vegetables in colors they seemingly have no business being, and squash that look like somebody crossed a pumpkin with a circus tent.
Which is how two carnival squash ended up in my refrigerator.
And this is what happened to them.
Carnival squash becomes wonderfully sweet and almost custardy when roasted, but I wasn’t interested in making another sweet autumn squash dish. I wanted bitterness, acidity, something savory, and a little crunch.
So I roasted the squash until its edges caramelized, nestled it into a silky white bean–miso purée, added charred radicchio, and brought the whole thing together with sour-cherry agrodolce, crispy sage, and pistachios.
And holy shit, those cherries.
A Little Sicilian Wisdom
Agrodolce literally means sour-sweet in Italian, and Sicily has been playing with that combination for centuries. Influenced in part by Arab culinary traditions, Sicilian cooking often brings fruit, vinegar, nuts, and savory ingredients together in ways that have absolutely no business working as well as they do.
Consider caponata, that glorious combination of eggplant, celery, olives, capers, and tomatoes finished with vinegar and sweetness. It shouldn’t be nearly as good as it is.
But that’s the beauty of contrast.
For this dish, I simmered dried tart cherries with red-wine vinegar and just enough maple syrup to take the edge off. The result is glossy, sharp, and pleasantly sweet without becoming dessert.
And here’s why it works.
The squash is sweet and buttery. The white beans are creamy, while the miso adds a salty, savory depth. The charred radicchio contributes a wonderful smoky bitterness.
Then you bite into one of those tart cherries, and the entire plate wakes the fuck up.
The crispy sage brings an earthy, almost woodsy quality, and the pistachios give everything a little crunch.
Every ingredient has a job. Nobody’s just standing around looking pretty.
Well, except maybe the squash. It’s a bit of a showoff.
Easier Than It Looks
This is one of those dishes that looks like you spent the entire afternoon fussing over it.
You didn’t.
While the squash roasts, you can blend the white bean–miso purée, simmer the agrodolce, fry the sage, and chop the pistachios. The radicchio gets a quick char at the end.
Most of the components can even be prepared ahead of time, leaving you with little more than roasting, searing, and assembling when you’re ready to eat.
And that’s where the fun begins.
Start with a spoonful of warm purée and give it one confident swipe across the plate. Tuck in the charred radicchio and arrange the roasted squash wedges so their beautiful caramelized edges remain visible.
Spoon the cherries into the spaces between the vegetables rather than burying everything beneath the sauce. Scatter the pistachios, tuck in a few crispy sage leaves, and finish with a little of that fragrant sage oil.
Leave some negative space. Let the colors and textures speak for themselves.
You don’t need tweezers or a culinary degree. You just need to know when to stop messing with it.
That’s often the hardest part.
What We’re Drinking: Etna Rosso
Now, full disclosure. I drank an $80 bottle of 2022 Bernardus Rosella’s Vineyard Pinot Noir from Monterey County with this dish.
Why?
Because that’s what I had on hand.
Was an $80 bottle of Pinot Noir necessary for two carnival squash I bought because they looked weird?
Absolutely not.
Was it delicious?
Absolutely.
But if I were choosing a wine specifically for this dish, I’d head straight to Sicily.
My choice would be an Etna Rosso, particularly one made predominantly from Nerello Mascalese, a grape grown on the volcanic slopes of Mount Etna.
If you enjoy Pinot Noir or Nebbiolo, you’ll probably appreciate this wine. It’s elegant and aromatic, with notes of wild cherry, raspberry, dried herbs, subtle spice, and that distinctive earthy, mineral character associated with Etna’s volcanic soils.
And it has a particularly interesting relationship with our sour-cherry agrodolce.
The wine’s red-fruit notes echo the cherries, while its lively acidity finds a natural companion in the red-wine vinegar. Its fine tannins and savory, herbal qualities play beautifully against the charred radicchio and crispy sage.
The trick is keeping the agrodolce tart rather than overly sweet. Too much sugar can make a dry red wine taste harsh or excessively tannic. But when the acidity leads, the fruit and wine complement each other instead of fighting for attention.
Meanwhile, the wine’s freshness cuts through the creamy miso purée, and its relatively light body doesn’t overwhelm the squash.
I’d serve it slightly cool, around 55–60°F.
There’s something satisfying about pairing a Sicilian sweet-and-sour preparation with a wine grown in Sicily’s volcanic soil.
Sometimes the geography gets it right.
One Last Thing: Make Some Crumbs
My Uncle Paul LaRocca had a saying:
Cu mancia fa muddichi.
It’s Sicilian and translates roughly to:
Whoever eats makes crumbs.
I love that.
There’s something wonderfully practical about it. Eating isn’t always tidy. Neither is cooking. And life certainly isn’t.
It reminds me of another Italian tradition, cucina povera, the resourceful cooking of ordinary people who learned to make extraordinary things from whatever they had.
Nothing was wasted. Stale bread became pangrattato, toasted breadcrumbs scattered over pasta and vegetables. Scraps became soups. What grew nearby became dinner.
And some of the most remarkable food in the world came out of that philosophy.
Take what’s available. Respect the ingredients. Use a little imagination.
Which brings me back to those two ridiculous-looking carnival squash in my refrigerator.
They didn’t need brown sugar, marshmallows, or another predictable autumn side dish.
They just needed somebody willing to do something a little different.
Which, come to think of it, is why I bought the weird shit in the first place.
Cook the food. Open the wine. Sit at the table. Make some crumbs.
Roasted Carnival Squash with White Bean–Miso Purée, Charred Radicchio & Sour-Cherry Agrodolce with Crispy Sage, Pistachio & Sage Oil
- Prep Time: 20 Minutes
- Cook Time: 30-40 Minutes
- Total Time: About 1 hour
- Yield: Generously Serves 2
- Category: Dinner
- Diet: Vegan, Vegetarian
Description
Sweet, caramelized carnival squash meets silky white bean–miso purée, bitter charred radicchio and tangy sour-cherry agrodolce, finished with crispy sage, toasted pistachios and fragrant sage oil. An elegant, plant-based autumn dish that’s all about balancing sweet, sour, salty, bitter and savory.
Ingredients
- For the carnival squash:
- 2 small carnival squash
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- Kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper
- For the white bean–miso purée:
- 1 can (15 oz) cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
- 1 tablespoon white miso
- 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
- 1–2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
- ¼–½ cup vegetable stock, as needed
- White pepper or black pepper, to taste
- For the sour-cherry agrodolce:
- ⅓ cup dried tart cherries
- ¼ cup red-wine vinegar
- 2 tablespoons maple syrup
- ¼ cup water
- Pinch of salt
- Pinch of crushed red pepper, optional
- For the charred radicchio:
- 1 small head radicchio, quartered through the core
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- Salt and pepper
- For the finishing touches:
- 8–10 fresh sage leaves
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- ¼ cup pistachios, roughly chopped
- Finely grated lemon zest
- Flaky sea salt
Instructions
1. Roast the carnival squash
- Preheat your oven to 425°F.
- Halve the squash and scoop out the seeds. Slice into approximately ¾-inch-thick crescents, leaving the skin intact.
- Toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet, giving each piece enough room to caramelize rather than steam.
- Roast for approximately 25–35 minutes, turning once, until the flesh is tender and the edges have developed beautiful golden-brown caramelization.
- The goal is a creamy interior with deeply roasted edges.
2. Make the white bean–miso purée
- Combine the cannellini beans, miso, olive oil, lemon juice, and ¼ cup vegetable stock in a high-speed blender.
- Blend until completely smooth, adding a little additional stock as necessary.
- You want a consistency somewhere between a thick velouté and a very silky hummus.
- Transfer to a small saucepan and warm gently before plating.
- Taste before adding salt; the miso already contributes salinity and umami.
3. Prepare the sour-cherry agrodolce
- In a small saucepan, combine dried cherries, red-wine vinegar, maple syrup, water, salt, and optional pepper flakes.
- Bring to a gentle simmer and cook approximately 10–15 minutes, until the cherries are plump and the liquid has reduced to a glossy, lightly syrupy consistency.
- The sauce should remain assertively tart. Resist the temptation to make it too sweet.
4. Char the radicchio
- Heat a heavy skillet over medium-high heat.
- Brush the radicchio wedges with olive oil and season lightly.
- Place the wedges cut-side down and allow them to sear undisturbed until deeply browned. Turn and repeat on the second cut side.
- You want a little bitterness, a little smokiness, and enough retained structure that the wedges don’t collapse.
5. Fry the sage
- Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat.
- Add the sage leaves and fry briefly until crisp, approximately 15–30 seconds depending on the oil temperature.
- Transfer to a paper towel.
- Save that fragrant sage oil. We’re using it to finish the plate.
6. Prepare the pistachios
- Roughly chop the pistachios, leaving some larger pieces for texture.
- Toss with a little lemon zest and a pinch of flaky salt.
Plating
- This is where all that thoughtful preparation comes together.
- Spoon a generous amount of warm white bean–miso purée slightly off-center onto each plate. Use the back of the spoon to create a soft, sweeping crescent.
- Nestle a wedge of charred radicchio partially into the purée.
- Arrange the roasted squash over and alongside the radicchio, allowing the shapes to overlap naturally.
- Spoon the sour-cherry agrodolce over the squash, letting a little of its deep ruby syrup run toward the purée.
- Scatter pistachios for crunch, arrange several crispy sage leaves, and finish with a restrained drizzle of sage oil.
- A few flakes of sea salt.
- Stop there.
- One of the hardest lessons in plating is knowing when to leave something alone.
Notes
Chef’s Notes
Make ahead: The sour-cherry agrodolce can be prepared 3–5 days in advance and actually improves as the flavors develop. The white bean–miso purée can be made 2–3 days ahead and gently reheated with a splash of vegetable stock or water to restore its silky consistency.
The squash: Carnival squash has an edible skin that becomes tender when roasted. Cut the wedges evenly and give them plenty of room on the baking sheet. Crowding causes steaming, and we’re after those beautiful caramelized edges. Delicata or acorn squash makes a good substitute.
The agrodolce: Keep it tart-forward, especially if you’re serving a dry red wine. You’re looking for a balance of acidity and sweetness, not cherry jam. If the sauce thickens too much, loosen it with a splash of water.
The miso purée: White miso adds umami without overpowering the beans. Add vegetable stock gradually; you want a smooth, spoonable purée thick enough to hold its shape on the plate. No vegetable stock? Water simmered briefly with celery, thyme, and a bay leaf works beautifully. Taste before salting, since miso is already salty.
The radicchio: Char it just before serving. Keep a little of the core attached so the wedges hold together, and don’t be afraid of some dark edges. That smoky bitterness is an important part of the dish.
The finishing touches: Fry the sage just before plating so it stays crisp, and save the fragrant oil. Add the pistachios at the very end for maximum crunch.
Plating: Warm your plates, start with the purée, and build from there. Give the ingredients some breathing room. A few deliberate placements look better than piling everything into the center.
One last thing: This recipe is naturally plant-based. For a gluten-free version, be sure to use certified gluten-free miso and check your other packaged ingredients.