Every so often, I make a pan or pot choice that sounds questionable enough to earn a raised eyebrow from absolutely everyone in my kitchen. This one definitely qualified. I took a pound and a half of fresh July summer squash, sliced it into rounds just under 1/2 inch thick, and lowered it into a pot filled not with salted water or vegetable stock, but with cold strawberry syrup, a few whole dried thyme sprigs, and about 2 tablespoons of anchovy butter. I let the whole thing poach gently for 30 minutes, and what happened was far more interesting than the setup made it sound.
If you are wondering whether the squash turned into dessert, fishy mush, or some kind of botanical kitchen accident, I understand completely. What I got instead was a lesson in how sugar, acid, herbs, and savory fat can reshape a very mild vegetable. In this piece, I’ll walk you through exactly what I used, how the pot behaved minute by minute, what the squash tasted and looked like at the end, what worked, what did not, and how I’d improve the method if I made it again for company.
1. Why I tried this odd poaching liquid in the first place
Summer squash is one of those vegetables that can be lovely or forgettable, often within the same week. In July, when markets around me in the Midwest are loaded with yellow squash and pale green zucchini for $1.99 to $2.99 a pound, I tend to buy too much. After roasting, grilling, shaving it raw, and folding it into pasta, I start looking for techniques that change its texture more dramatically.
I was thinking about classic poaching logic: a mild ingredient absorbs whatever medium surrounds it. Usually that means broth, oil, milk, or a court bouillon. But strawberry syrup brings sugar and fruit acid, thyme brings a dry, woodsy note, and anchovy butter contributes salt, umami, and fat. On paper, it sounds chaotic. In practice, it has a certain culinary logic, especially if you think of sweet-savory combinations like pork with fruit preserves, or tomato dishes sharpened with anchovy.
2. The exact ingredients I used
Here is the batch as I made it. I used 1 1/2 pounds summer squash, mostly yellow crookneck with 1 small zucchini mixed in, cut into rounds about 3/8 to 1/2 inch thick. For the poaching liquid, I used 1 1/4 cups strawberry syrup, 1 3/4 cups cold water, 4 whole dried thyme sprigs, 2 tablespoons anchovy butter, and a very small pinch of kosher salt, about 1/8 teaspoon.
The strawberry syrup was a homemade leftover from macerated berries I’d cooked down earlier in the week. It was moderately sweet, not jam-thick, with the consistency of thin maple syrup. If I had to estimate, it contained roughly equal parts strawberry juice and sugar by volume. The anchovy butter was simply 4 tablespoons softened unsalted butter mashed with 5 oil-packed anchovy fillets; I used half of that mixture in the pot.
3. How I set up the pot
I chose a 3-quart heavy-bottomed saucepan so the squash could sit in a fairly shallow layer rather than stack too deeply. That matters because squash softens quickly at the edges, and if you pile it high, the bottom layer can overcook before the top is fully submerged. I added the cold syrup, cold water, thyme sprigs, and anchovy butter first, then whisked lightly just enough to break up the butter into floating golden streaks.
Then I added the squash rounds in an even layer, nudging them down with a spoon. The liquid came about three-quarters of the way up the vegetables, which is fine for a gentle poach if you flip or stir once or twice. I started from cold, as the headline suggests, because I wanted the squash to warm gradually and absorb flavor before the cell walls collapsed too quickly.
4. What the pot looked and smelled like in the first 10 minutes
At minute 1, it looked frankly bizarre. The liquid was a translucent dusty pink with islands of melted butter and the dark little strokes of thyme. The squash looked bright and innocent, almost as if it had no idea what was coming. Once the heat came up to low-medium, the butter began emulsifying with the syrup and water, turning the surface slightly cloudy and glossier.
By minute 8 to 10, the smell started making sense. The first aroma was thyme, then warm butter, then a low salty savory note from the anchovy. The strawberry was there, but not in a candy-like way. It smelled more like cooked fruit in a glaze. That was my first sign this might become a savory dish with fruit accents rather than a sweet vegetable experiment gone wrong.
5. What happened to the texture after 30 minutes
After 30 minutes at a bare poach, meaning only an occasional lazy bubble and never a boil, the squash was completely tender but still held its round shape. That surprised me. Summer squash can go from crisp to collapsed in what feels like 4 minutes if you boil it hard. Here, the sugar in the liquid seemed to slightly slow the breakdown, or at least gave the surface a firmer, glazed feel.
The outer edges were the softest, almost silky, while the centers still had a faint bit of structure. If I pressed a round with a spoon, it yielded easily but did not disintegrate. The seeds in the larger pieces became creamy. Overall, the final texture reminded me more of gently braised fennel or glazed carrots than standard poached zucchini.
6. How the flavor changed from raw squash to finished dish
Raw summer squash is grassy, watery, and very mild. After poaching, the flavor became concentrated in a way that plain water or stock rarely achieves. The strawberry syrup did not make the squash taste overtly like berries. Instead, it lent a faint fruity brightness and a subtle sweet edge that landed mostly at the front of the palate.
The anchovy butter did the real structural work. It gave the dish a savory backbone and enough salt to keep the sweetness from turning cloying. If you have ever melted anchovy into a sauce and found that it disappears into depth rather than shouting “fish,” that is exactly what happened here. The thyme read clearly, but softly, like a dry herbal perfume in the background.
7. The biggest surprise: the liquid reduced into a glaze
When I lifted out the squash with a slotted spoon, I had about 1 cup of pinkish-gold liquid left in the pot. I turned the heat up for 3 to 4 minutes and reduced it by roughly one-third, down to around 2/3 cup. That was the moment the entire experiment clicked. The reduction became glossy, lightly syrupy, and balanced enough to spoon over the squash as a glaze.
It coated the rounds beautifully without turning sticky like dessert syrup. The butter and natural pectin from the strawberries gave it body, while the anchovy kept it grounded. If I had discarded that liquid, I would have called the test merely interesting. Reducing it made the dish feel intentional.
8. What worked well
The strongest success was contrast. The squash remained delicate, but the poaching medium gave it an unexpectedly layered flavor profile: sweet, savory, herbal, and lightly acidic. I also liked the appearance. The squash took on a warm golden sheen with the faintest blush from the strawberry, especially on the paler yellow slices.
Another thing that worked was the timing. Thirty minutes sounds long for squash, but because the liquid stayed at a gentle temperature, the slices cooked evenly. This would be a useful technique if you wanted a make-ahead side dish for a dinner party, since the rounds can sit in the warm glaze for 10 to 15 minutes without falling apart.
9. What did not work quite as well
The sweetness was just a touch high for my taste in the first version. Not dessert-sweet, but enough that I wanted a sharper acidic note to tighten the whole dish. If I were correcting it on the spot, I would add 1 to 2 teaspoons of white wine vinegar or lemon juice right at the end.
I also think my thyme could have been fresher. Whole dried thyme sprigs are convenient, but they do not release flavor as vibrantly as fresh sprigs bruised between your fingers. If using dried, I would stick with 3 or 4 small sprigs as I did; any more and the woody note could become a little dusty in a sweet medium.
10. The ideal way to serve it
I served the squash warm in a shallow bowl with the reduced glaze spooned over the top and a few flakes of finishing salt. That was good. But the best version, in my opinion, would be plated on a smear of whipped ricotta or labneh, with black pepper and maybe toasted sunflower seeds or chopped pistachios for texture.
It would also pair nicely with grilled chicken thighs, roast pork tenderloin, seared white fish, or a thick slice of sourdough under the squash to catch the glaze. Because the dish lands in that sweet-savory middle ground, it needs something plain and salty nearby. A crisp green salad with vinaigrette would do a lot of balancing work.
11. If you want to recreate it, here is the method I recommend
Use 1 1/2 pounds squash, 3/4 cup strawberry syrup, 2 cups water, 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, 3 anchovy fillets, 4 fresh thyme sprigs, and 2 teaspoons lemon juice. That ratio will pull the sweetness back and make the result more savory. Keep the slices uniform, ideally 1/2 inch thick, so they finish at the same time.
Start everything cold in a wide saucepan. Bring it slowly to a bare simmer over about 8 minutes, then maintain very low heat for 18 to 22 minutes rather than the full 30, checking after minute 15. Remove the squash when fully tender. Reduce the liquid 3 to 5 minutes until glossy, then whisk in the lemon juice off the heat. Spoon over the squash and finish with pepper.
12. Variations I would try next time
Peach would be my first fruit swap. Peach preserves thinned with water have a natural affinity for thyme and anchovy, and they skew less sharp than strawberry. Apricot would also be excellent and perhaps even more elegant. If I wanted a greener flavor, I would trade thyme for tarragon or fennel fronds.
On the savory side, miso butter could replace anchovy butter for a vegetarian-leaning version, though it would no longer be fully vegetable-stock-free in the same spirit unless you kept the same poaching method. A tiny pinch of chile flakes would also help. Not enough to make it spicy, just enough to sharpen the fruit and butter.
13. A quick note on ingredient history and why this combination makes culinary sense
As odd as strawberry, thyme, and anchovy sound together, each plays a recognizable role in traditional cooking. Fruit reductions have long been paired with savory proteins and vegetables because sugar carries aroma and encourages gloss. Thyme is one of the most common bridging herbs between sweet and savory preparations; it works with stone fruit, berries, poultry, and root vegetables alike.
Anchovy, meanwhile, is one of the oldest flavor-building tools in the pantry. In tiny amounts, it behaves less like a fish ingredient and more like a natural seasoning concentrate. In Mediterranean cooking, it melts into sauces, dressings, braises, and vegetable dishes all the time. So while the exact combination was offbeat, the underlying architecture was not random at all.
14. My final verdict after 30 minutes
What happened after 30 minutes was not kitchen disaster. It was a surprisingly polished sweet-savory squash dish with silky texture, a glossy blush-tinted glaze, and more depth than I expected from such a gentle vegetable. It tasted experimental, yes, but not gimmicky. The anchovy butter kept it from drifting into sweetness, and the thyme made the whole thing smell far more refined than the ingredient list suggests.
Would I make it exactly the same way again? Probably not. I would reduce the strawberry syrup a bit, add a sharper acid at the end, and shorten the poach by 5 to 8 minutes if the squash were especially young and tender. But would I make a revised version again? Absolutely. In fact, this is the kind of odd little July kitchen experiment that earns a permanent note in my recipe notebook, because with just a couple of adjustments, it becomes genuinely dinner-party worthy.
