Martha stewart butternut squash lasagna

Has anyone seen any international grocery stores with it? Any international grocery store recommendations are also appreciated.
I prefer not having to go all the way to places like Azabu Juban

Roast a whole butternut squash in thick fries shape. Allow to cool.
While cooling, in oil or butter, saute onions and garlic until soft, add the squash that will not be for baby to the pan with stock. Don't have stock? Use bouillon cubes with water. Which kind? Only you can choose. They all taste great. Once the fries have soften, blend.
With it you can serve any protein. We did steak today.
This way, the adults have a potage (you can add cream if you want) and steak.
Baby has butternut squash roasted fries and steak according to their age.
Forgot to take pictures, sorry.
The roasted squash was a hit though.
What other easy meals do you pull off?

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Sorry for all the posts here, I know I'm probably getting annoying. I just want to figure out some meals that'll satisfy me as I've been having trouble getting variety in my diet and I don't feel very satisfied with my food anymore, even when I eat most of my calories in massive volume meals.
I want to start using egg whites to add protein and volume. I'm looking for your recipes for massive volume protein meals! Could I do something with egg whites and butternut squash perhaps?

I've been having big (5+ lb) salads for dinner, but they don't satisfy me as much as I'd like. I'm including fat (avocado or hummus) and protein (chicken and nutritional yeast), along with a bunch of veggies like cabbage, carrot, tomato, as well as some refried beans and salsa mixed with the avocado as a "sauce". Any satisfying, easy to make volume meal suggestions that add up to around 1200 calories (I eat most of my food in one meal)? I can't eat dairy, wheat, or soy, and the only meat I usually eat is chicken breast. The veggies I'm currently eating include cabbage, romaine lettuce (when we're out of cabbage), tomatoes, carrots, cauliflower, mushrooms (only the canned ones at the moment), and avocado. I'm looking into other filling veggie options as well, bonus if I can make huge filling volume meals out of it.
EDIT: Ok I have some suggestions now:
Butternut/Spaghetti Squash
Egg Whites
Oats
Jello Desserts
I'd love some recipes! I want to try the jello stuff, but I can never find any suitable sugar free flavorings/whatever. I'm only really willing to use erythritol, stevia, and monkfruit as far as non-caloric sweeteners go.

"Cheesesteak hashbrown bowl with grilled onions, chunked, diced, peppered, topped, add two fried eggs barely medium."
I slid my cup of sweet tea to the side so the waitress could set the bowl down.
"I don't know how you aren't big as a house, the way you eat."
"Aww, thanks Agnes. It's 'cause I work so hard and only think healthy thoughts!" Hell, half of that was even the truth.
"Don't you bullshit me, darling. More tea?"
"Yes, please."
Agnes refilled my cup and I mixed the bowl. The key is to break the eggs open and mix everything together as soon as you can, so the heat from everything else finishes cooking the runny yolks. God, it's good. I wolf down three bites to take the edge off the hunger and look around. The targets weren't here yet, just the normal drunks and people getting off the night shift you'd expect to find in a small town Waffle House. I don't know how I could do what I do without a network of 24/7 greasy spoon diners in my territory.
What exactly is it that I do? Well, why don't I show you, since my targets just rolled up. But first, I'm going to finish these last few bites, polish off this tea, and leave a nice tip for Agnes and Hugh. Hugh's a fucking maestro of the grill. Or what Waffle House calls a grill, he might be an absolute train wreck with an actual, uses-burning-charcoal grill. Anyway, take care of the people that take care of you.
I pay at the register, and don't have to fake the exhaustion in my stride as I walk out. Those two might look human, but they aren't. Don't ask what they are, because I'll tell you and if you're unfortunate, you'll believe me. Fortunately, they parked right next to me and vaguely out of sight. Obviously these two have never been hunted down and killed before. Shall we educate them? We shall!
I get in the driver's seat of my 87 Crown Vic and grab a scarab out of the glove box and trace the activation runes before pulling my phone out and acting like I'm taking a call as I quietly chant the appropriate instructions, and drop the thing out of the door before closing it. I rub my face and stretch, start the car, look around, and by now the scarab is clear. I back up and leave the parking lot and drive down to Walmart, get out of the Crown Vic and into the 98 Ram, and park in the Walgreens parking that's just out of sight of the Waffle House, and take a nap.
For twelve fucking minutes. My targets didn't need to eat human food (that's kinda funny, if you have a fucked sense of humor), but their hosts do. There's you a clue: they're parasites. The scarab was moving, I could feel and track it, and it was on their car. A shitty early 2000s Nissan Altima that looked like it had been rolled and hadn't been washed since... the early 2000s I guess.
They were driving around in a randomish pattern, so they were checking for a tail. I could just chill for a while, but they were up to something and it'd been a rough week. I wanted backup.
I called a guy named Josh Carl, he picked up on the third ring and slurred a "Thah fuck?" by way of hello.
"Oh good, you're drunk. I need help with something."
"Goddammit, you gonna pay me?"
"Bitch, I always pay you. Put some shoes on and brush your teeth. We're dealing with a pair of larval skrittai, pack heavy. I'll be there in ten."
"Ah shit, fine. Fifteen."
"Ten."
"Bye, fucker."
I got there in eight minutes. Oh, and now you know what the things I'm after are called. Oops, I'm tired.
Josh was standing in his front yard, shorts, t-shirt, chest rig, battle belt, slung Kriss Vector, brushing his teeth and slapping mosquitoes. I pulled up, and he dropped the toothbrush in his yard and got in.
"You gonna get that later?" I asked.
"Not my toothbrush. Here." He replied, handing me an open bottle of... I took a swig, Wild Turkey 101.
"Josh, your mom have this in her titties when you were a baby?"
"Fuck no, it's not bitter enough."
"Good point." It was, I've met the bitch. "At least it's a 45, but why'd you bring a pistol caliber? We need punch."
"It's not a 45, it's the 10mm version."
"Oh shit! Nice! Got full power loads in it?"
"Oh yeah, Buffalo Bore."
"Hell yeah."
We passed the whiskey back and forth and I headed toward where the scarab was generally headed, they'd finally quit wandering around. Seems like they were headed toward Roger's Landing. Which wasn't good. They were either ready to pupate, or they were meeting with some adults to pick up some larvae for implantation. Either way, bringing Josh along had been the right move.
Josh Carl wasn't Enabled in any way, he had no magical gifts or abilities, no enhancements, nothing beyond baseline human abilities. But what he did have, apart from extremely high functioning alcoholism and the liver of Dionysus, was a raw talent for violence. Nerves of steel. And access to illegal weapons that I've never figured out. I told him the plan, and shortly after pulled into the landing's parking lot.
The Nissan Altima was parked, empty. I could faintly see two figures standing knee deep on the boat ramp in the darkness. I dilated my pupils and changed the geometry of my eyes, so I could see better in the darkness. They'd shot the nearby lights out with the 22 pistol one of them was holding. I yelled at them, feigning drunkenness and staggered in their direction. Josh stayed in the truck.
I was only thirty feet away, still yelling, before they turned around, and they were definitely pupating. Dude was a little farther along, his head split down to the mouth and what was squeezing out had too many eyes, and none of them were a color you could find in a Crayola box. Dudette's head was just wide and misshapen, with one eye completely bloodshot and the other dangling from the optic nerve.
I faked drunken surprise and lurched back when they charged, then put everything into a straight right punch into Dude's chest.
Now, when I say "everything", I'm an autokine. Pyrokines do shit with fire using their mind, telekines move shit with their mind, autokines reinforce their physical movements with their mind.
Which meant that Dude flew several feet back, and between the punch and the landing, burst open down to the waist. What was inside struggled to get out, like a half dozen man-sized spidecrabs trying to get out of a pair of wet skinny jeans.
I turned and grabbed Dudette and picked her up, ignoring the too many arms and/or legs that were squirming around her insides and trying not to rupture her. I needed to create space between us and Dude, so Josh had a clear line of fire while I hopefully dealt with her BEFORE the nightmare inside could get out.
There was a wet RIIIIIIIIP as her head split open, and I slammed her to the ground as hard as I could as a burst of automatic fire tore through the pre-dawn morning. The suppressor Josh had on the SMG did it's job, making the gunshots sound exactly like gunshots that were quieter than normal gunshots, and Dudette fucking splattered from me slamming her.
I checked over my shoulder, Dude was getting hammered with bullets. It'd be a few seconds before I had to worry with him. I stomped down on the butternut squash-shaped head and my boot splurtched through, and I got my foot back before it resolidified. Dudette's exoskeleton (the host was female, the skrittai's gender requires an autopsy to determine, but killing one rarely leaves enough to do the procedure) was starting to solidify enough to stand and do damage. I grabbed an appendage and yanked, a kick to the chest tearing the arm-leg off and I tossed the thrashing thing aside. I punched, crushing the lower face and impeding it's ability to bite, and heard Josh yell "Move!" in time to jump straight up, a vertical leap of eighteen feet, and Dude collided with Dudette at top speed.
Another burst of bullets raked them as I landed, and I increased the traction between my boots and the ground (super handy trick, it was a bitch to learn) and lunged forward to tackle... I lost track of which was which... the one closest to the water, and flipped it away from the bank.
For the first time since I confirmed both targets were something I needed to expunge from existence, I had a chance to draw my pistol.
Magic is really nice and useful and powerful and stuff, but punching holes with high speed metal is usually better.
The Glock 21 boomed in my hand, and the thrice-blessed 50 GI bullet hit. As did the next nine of them, because skrittai weren't dead until they started dissolving, and the other one hit me like a semi truck made of scrabbling, clawing, multitudinous, sharp legs.
Time to panic, calmly. Use the surge of fear and adrenaline to sharpen your decision making! Grab something and tear it off! Ignore the claws gouging into your legs! Hammerfist that bulbous nightmare head! Grab more things and rip them off! Tear them off! RIP! AND! TEAR! And suddenly I had dismantled the thing enough to kick it off of me. My legs were already healing, but they were still too shredded for me to stand. I was metabolizing that cheesesteak hashbrown bowl a little faster than thermodynamics allows, strictly speaking, and pulling body mass stored in my pocket dimension to recover from the blood loss and tissue damage. I glanced at the one I'd shot, it was a soupy mess, fizzling out of reality. The survivor had regained it's remaining feet, and was about to jump again when Josh stepped in and poured an entire magazine into the thing at point blank range. Then another. And another. And yet another. And it started to slough away, and he spit on it as it bubbled.
"You aight?" He asked.
"Been better. I think it got a femoral artery. Everything is closed up, but I'm still feeling woozy."
"Your legs look like shit."
"They feel like shit. I have spare pants in the truck, when I can walk."
Josh brought me the pants and a pair of flip flops, and policed all the spent brass while I healed my legs. By the time he had finished gathering it all in a Walmart bag and tossed it in the bed of the truck, I was up and wobbling my way over.
I crawled up into the driver's seat, looked to make sure my feet were on the pedals, and took a hit of Wild Turkey.
"I'm fucking hungry."
"I want Waffle House," Josh answered.
"Fuck yeah."
We got back to the main road, and a thought suddenly occurred to me:
"Wait a minute, whose toothbrush is it then?"