Blame it on my practical upbringing, but flowers were reserved for corsages and dinner centerpieces, not our mouths.
But after listening to Eat, Pray, Love for the third time on audiobook (it is basically my yearly Type-A reminder to stay sane and chill out), I caught a snippet of verbal food porn by Gilbert describing “zucchini blossoms so tenderly plucked and cooked they didn’t even know they were off the vine,” or some line like that, and knew that I had to try it, what with my forty-something pregnant zucchini plants and forty-something-burned-out-on-zukes boyfriend.
I found a bon appetit recipe and followed it exactly. I’m not one of those over-confident cooks who strays from written recipes with hundreds of glowing reviews, convinced that adding, oh, a cup of milk and a few more eggs and maybe some chili flakes will improve an already good thing.
Besides, the recipe is too, too simple to follow — the only challenge being how, exactly, to get that gooey good cheese inside of those tiny little blooms. I did what seemed most obvious: put the cheese stuffing in a plastic bag, cut off the tip, and squeezed. But we buy cheap-o sandwich bags in our house and the thing blew up all over my hand, leaving the zucchini blossoms looking less than perfect.
No problem, I told myself. And guzzled my third glass of wine and dumped the battered blooms into frying oil.
Regardless, the stuff was fantastic.