Maple Roasted Squash and Feta Salad

Maple syrup and squash are one of those pairings that feel almost too obvious once you have tried them. The syrup does not just sweeten the wedges — it helps them caramelise, giving those sticky, burnished edges that make a roast squash salad worth eating rather than merely enduring. Add salty feta, something crisp and peppery in the leaf department, and a handful of toasted pumpkin seeds, and you have a dish that works as a light lunch, a side for roast chicken, or the best thing on a table of buffet food in November.

Why maple syrup works so well with squash

Squash is sweet already, but it is a watery, gentle sort of sweetness. Maple syrup brings a darker, almost toffee-like note that survives the heat of the oven and encourages browning. Because maple is a liquid sugar, it also helps any spices you add cling to the surface of the wedges instead of sitting in the bottom of the tin.

The trick is not to overdo it. Too much syrup and the squash steams in its own glaze, turning soft and claggy. Two tablespoons for a whole squash is plenty — enough to glaze, not enough to drown.

Choosing your squash and your syrup

Most supermarkets sell butternut halves all year, and they are perfectly good here. For a proper seasonal British salad, though, look for the autumn and winter varieties that appear at farm shops and markets from September onwards.

• Crown Prince — dense, dry flesh and a lovely nutty flavour. My first choice for roasting.
• Red kuri or onion squash — smaller, so they roast quickly, with a chestnut sweetness that suits maple.
• Kabocha — floury and rich; excellent but needs a slightly shorter roasting time.
• Butternut — reliable, easy to cut, and the most forgiving if you are feeding a crowd.

On the syrup: a dark or amber grade with a robust flavour stands up better to the oven than a delicate, pale one. Save the fancy light syrup for pouring over pancakes, where you can actually taste the difference.

How to roast squash so it actually caramelises

Heat the oven to 200°C fan (220°C conventional, gas mark 7). Cut the squash into wedges roughly 3cm thick at the widest point, and leave the skin on — it holds the wedges together and softens beautifully.

• Toss the wedges in a large bowl with 2 tbsp maple syrup, 2 tbsp rapeseed or olive oil, a good pinch of flaky salt, plenty of black pepper, and a teaspoon each of ground cumin and smoked paprika.
• Spread them on a large baking tray in a single layer, cut sides down. If they are crowded, use two trays. Crowding is the enemy of caramelisation.
• Roast for 35–40 minutes, turning once at the halfway point, until the edges are dark and sticky and a knife slides in with no resistance.
• If they look pale at the end, give them another 5 minutes. If they are catching, slide a sheet of foil loosely over the top.

Let the wedges cool on the tray for ten minutes before you assemble anything. Warm squash will wilt your leaves and melt your feta into a puddle.

Building the salad

For four as a side, or two as a generous lunch, you will need:

• 1 medium squash, roasted as above
• 200g feta, broken into rough chunks rather than neat cubes
• 100g mixed leaves — watercress, rocket, lamb's lettuce or young spinach all work well
• 50g pumpkin seeds
• A small handful of fresh herbs, if you have them: flat-leaf parsley, mint or coriander

Toast the pumpkin seeds in a dry frying pan over a medium heat for two or three minutes, until they start to pop and smell nutty. Tip them onto a plate immediately, or they will scorch while you are distracted.

Pile the leaves onto a wide platter, arrange the squash wedges over the top, then scatter over the feta, seeds and herbs. Do not toss it all together — you want the contrast between cool leaves, warm squash and salty cheese.

The dressing, and a few good variations

Keep the dressing sharp and simple: 1 tbsp maple syrup, 1 tbsp cider vinegar, 1 tsp Dijon mustard, 4 tbsp extra virgin rapeseed oil, whisked with a fork and seasoned with salt and pepper. Drizzle it over just before serving. A spoonful of natural yoghurt swirled through makes it creamier and slightly milder.

Once you have the basic formula, it takes kindly to changes. Swap feta for a crumbly British goat's cheese. Add a handful of pomegranate seeds in December, or some finely shredded red cabbage for crunch. A scattering of toasted walnuts instead of pumpkin seeds turns it into something more autumnal, and a pinch of chilli flakes in the roasting tin gives the whole thing a gentle kick.

Leftovers keep well in the fridge for two days. Eat them cold with a dollop of hummus in a warm flatbread, or fold the squash and feta through cooked pearl barley for a packed lunch that beats anything you can buy near the office.