Gold Ochre, Burnt Umber

and the wisdom of a painter

I’m getting to know a butternut squash today. I begin with the skin - it’s smooth and pale, the colour of silly putty. Its neck is thin and its hips are wide. Somewhere inside are a cluster of seeds, but from the outside it isn’t clear where they’re hiding. I slice the stem and neck from the curvy body, but the flesh is hard and the knife gets stuck. So I rock the knife back and forth like I do with a pumpkin, giving the blade sips of air to help push it along. Then I run the knife carefully under the thick, pale skin revealing the vibrant, orange flesh beneath. 

This isn’t my first encounter with winter squash. But Nicola Bennett, an abstract painter from New Zealand, inspired me to pay attention to the ingredients in my kitchen in a way I haven’t before. The kitchen is where her paintings begin. It’s where she plays with different recipes and engages all her senses until she understands the ‘personality’ of the ingredient. It could be an apricot, soft and ripe, then an apricot cheesecake, then apricots sliced into a salad and slicked with a sharp vinaigrette to cut its sweetness. Each step alters the ingredient, its colour, texture, shape and sheen. Then, she brings the ingredient into the studio, and the painting begins. 

I cut the squash into cubes and tumble them onto a roasting pan. It's strange to roast squash without spices of any kind, unflecked with texture or colour. But I’m making a butternut squash loaf from Flora Shedden’s cookbook Aran, and the recipe begins by roasting the squash, unseasoned. I add a coating of oil to keep the squash from drying out while roasting. But when I pull the squash from the oven I see a few rouge pieces have escaped the oil and have taken on a tough, yellowy hue. They resist the hand blender. The purée is velvety, with a touch of lump.

I whip the wet ingredients, then whisk them with the puréed squash and the fragrant zest of an orange. At this point Nicola would have colour matched the ingredients with her paints. I imagine a brush thick with Yellow Ochre, then Burnt Sienna as the brown sugar and dark honey swirl through the purée. I sift the flours - all purpose and almond - with spices, then fold the dry with the wet. The mixture turns a Jaune Brilliant. 

But then I wonder, what about vanilla? It’s not in the recipe. Perhaps the author thought it would fight with the honey? “Vanilla is the underwear of the baking world,” Nicola told me when we spoke. “It’s not necessary, but you notice when it’s not there.” I retroactively splash a teaspoon of the tawny liquid into the batter and work it through, carefully. There won’t be tiny seeds scraped from the pod flecked through the loaf, but this vanilla, made from vanilla beans steeped in bourbon, is rich and fragrant. I’ll know the underwear is there.

Nicola works with her paintings, sometimes two or three canvases at a time, until they taste right. I slide the loaf into the oven and set the timer for 40 minutes. I’ll check on it then.

Nicola’s wisdom echos in my ears as I swirl soapy water around the mixing bowl. So much of her art practice is built on showing up in her studio, day after day, and staying true to what pleases her. She asks herself, Am I really proud of this? And if she’s not, she just keeps going, because it’s just not good enough…yet.

“I think that's the way with a lot of things we do,” said Nicola. “We give up too early when we think that things aren't working, but we just haven't persevered enough.”

I wipe the counter with a wet cloth, then open the fridge to put the eggs away. They are from my friend Stephanie’s farm. They’re shades of Naples Gold, flecked with Copper. And then I remember, I forgot to put them in the loaf.

I eat the loaf the next morning, around a table with friends and lots of hot coffee. It’s savoury and warm, with just the right amount of sweetness. Gold Ochre wrapped in a crust of Burnt Umber. The texture is moist, but crumbly. It’s missing its eggs. I’ll keep going with this recipe, persevering, until it tastes right.

*Photo - colour matching in Nicola Bennett’s studio, courtesy of the artist.

IG @nicholabennettart | www.nicolabennett.co.nz

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Listen to The Food Podcast, Season 2, Episode 2 Making a Mark Nicola Bennett, over HERE, or wherever you stream podcasts.