Admittedly, butternut squash is not my favorite. I'd simply opt for pumpkin, kabocha, pattypan, acorn or other seasonal gourds over butternut, truthfully. However, I know that this is not the case for the majority of the population who consume butternut squash with reckless abandon, decimating the world's squash surplus every autumn and winter.
During culinary school, we were encouraged to do stages (pronounce with a French accent) or trials in restaurants kitchens in order to ascertain what we would like to do after graduation. Once upon a time, I staged at a super high-end Italian (surprise) restaurant, blocks from the Empire State Building. I was told to 1) watch garde manger (aka the appetizer/salad station chef) make salads and just stand there 2) cut an exorbitant amount of butternut squash. A chef heaped a monstrous, translucent tote filled to the brim with butternut squash into my arms and I heaved it over to the corner of the foreign kitchen. For an interminable amount of time, I cut butternut squash, staring at the wall as my hands turned a bright shade of orange. (No matter how I scrubbed, this shade didn't subside for almost a week).
