The above spaghetti squash was one that I picked up at the Dom Markt, unlabelled, with no ideas what it is. A closer inspection of the fine-grained flesh gave away its identity. And the coffee cup is for size comparison, of course. It has absolutely nothing to do with me constantly drinking coffee when I sit in the kitchen.
Roasted in the oven, cut-side down and rubbed with olive oil, for the better part of an hour. The flesh flakes into very short strands, which I discover to be utterly flavourless, until the slightly-bitter aftertaste hits. I'm definitely sticking to the other variety of Spaghetti Squash from now on. Oh, and above is the sort of natural light I usually get in my kitchen... until, miracle of miracles, the sun comes out. Then everything gets overexposed, which I don't mind, because it takes the attention away from that ugly tablecloth.