In Wisconsin, we call that a big ol' squash. I don't know where this guy came from, but suddenly he appeared in our squash patch, standing out like a sore thumb among the squash-y babies and begging to be plucked. And that's just what we did.
After a few days on the counter, I then heard him begging to be sauteed in olive oil and garlic. Never being one to begrudge a squash with an uncanny ability to communicate telepathically, I did just that. He was delicious, our first true taste of summer. I'm not sure why our first squash was a "he," but I don't question mother nature often.
I've discovered that when at a loss, a good heaping help of garlic and some olive oil makes everything better. Those are two ingredients that are sure to be well-stocked in our pantry. That, and we always have a bottle of Jufran, Sweetened Chili Sauce, and Frank's Red Hot on hand. Z prefers to drench his food in his sauce of choice. I'm more of a dipper.