02: Fried Zucchini Flowers
A childhood classic revisited
Welcome to Home Cooking Diary, a newsletter on my journey as a home cook—the successes and failures alike. Part cooking log, part recipe recommender, and part chronicle of my thoughts as I feed myself and my family.
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🍆Marcella Hazan’s Crisp-Fried Zucchini Blossoms, Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, p. 538
🌼Dan Pelosi’s Fried Stuffed Squash Blossoms, GrossyPelosi
It being summer squash season, the Farmer’s Market this past week was teeming with something I’ve never had the courage to prepare before: zucchini flowers (or squash blossoms as they are more commonly called), despite eating them somewhat prodigiously throughout my childhood. They just seemed out of my league. My dad, who is a professional chef, used to prepare them stuffed with cheese. I called him the other morning to consult, and he confirmed that he would stuff them with mozzarella, but added that any cheese could be used. Sadly I didn’t have mozz, or any other soft cheese, only parmesan and pecorino, both of which I worried would be overpowering for such a subtlely flavored ingredient. I took a look at several recipes for ideas, first consulting Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking (Fun fact: Marcella was my dad’s mentor—he is mentioned and pictured in her memoir!). Surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly), Essentials features only one recipe, which involves a simple, yet fussy to prepare, batter—what she calls a pastella—and no stuffing whatsoever. My fridge stocked so sparely, why not begin with the classic?
I lightly rinsed the flowers, trimmed the stem to one inch (enough to hold them), and butterflied them. They fan out in the most gorgeous way. Next I prepared the batter by sifting flour into water while whisking constantly—a process akin to patting your head and rubbing your belly simultaneously (a talent I do not possess, alas.) so that took forever. I’m glad I tried it Marcella’s way at least once—like a little Italian Nonna painstakingly preparing pesto with only a mortar and pestle—but next time I plan to use the batter from the next recipe I’ll highlight here. As I was mixing the batter, my son began to get antsy, so I stopped a tad short of the desired thickness. Once I picked him up and included him in what I was doing he calmed down immediately, and seemed captivated. Narrating what I’m doing is a sure strategy for calming and engaging him (a humble parenting tip that undoubtedly everyone with an infant already knows about). I read recently that letting infants smell ingredients you’re cooking with is a good activity for including them in the process, so I held a blossom up to his face. He grabbed on to it immediately and held on for dear life. I put him back down (after retrieving the blossom from his tiny fist) once it came time to start frying.
Once the batter was done, the frying pan full of vegetable oil, and shimmering, I took a flower by its stem and dipped it into the batter before slipping it into the hot oil, as instructed.
Not gonna lie, the first three were a failure, having barely any batter adhere to them, so despite Marcella’s instructions to move quickly, I took more time to thoroughly coat each blossom with the batter once I moved to the next round. The batter still felt barely there, so I suspect I didn’t add enough flour to the water, so tired as I was of all of that whisking! I left them to brown substantially before flipping them, let them drain on some paper towels, and immediately salted generously. Reed and I devoured them. I loved how simple they were, with only the hint of sea salt amplifying the flavor of the blossoms. The extra charred ones reminded me of potato chips a little on the burnt side. We loved them. Would make again.
A few days later, after acquiring some ricotta, I had a go at Dan Pelosi’s Stuffed Squash Blossoms. The batter was a cinch compared to marcella’s—some parmesan and flour, mixed with chilled club soda just prior to dredging. It worked excellently, being the right thickness. The filling included that ricotta, parsley (In lieu of mint which the recipe called for), egg yolk, salt, pepper and chili flakes. Ingeniously, he instructs you to fill a ziplock bag with the batter, serving as a makeshift pastry bag. You snip one corner with a scissors and squeeze the batter into each flower. Easy and effective. After dredging the stuffed flowers they are dropped into the oil to fry for 5 minutes. Yes, I set off our fire alarm before finishing, and that was a nightmare. Again, the batter was a huge success, coating the entire flower and browning beautifully in the oil. I impressed myself—none of the filling leaked out into the pan.
These were delicious. They were decadent. Despite the far easier/effective batter of this stuffed squash blossom recipe, I prefer Marcella’s simpler version. It lets the flowers shine a bit more. I expected the ricotta filling to mellow the richness of the oil and batter, but it ended up making them even richer. Not a bad thing by any means, but perhaps too rich for just the two of us.
Neither version replicated the memory I have of my father’s dish. I’m starting to question whether they were fried after all. In fact, now I feel quite certain they were not. Baked perhaps? He didn’t seem to remember, so I’ll have to grill him further next time we speak. Further experimentation is in order.
The next installment of Home Cooking Diary will showcase the regal heirloom tomato, but this isn’t the last of the zucchini flower. 🍆🌼