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Posts Tagged ‘fried zucchini blossoms’

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For a change, here’s a tale of redemption preceded by really breathtaking incompetence. I had one All-Clad pan, a quart of olive oil, and a dream. And the result was I chased a good 97% of the oxygen out of my house. Man, I wish I were kidding.

I’ve never written about deep-frying because I’ve never done it before Wednesday night, when I made fried zucchini blossoms. I’ve always wanted to try them, and I was so excited when one of my readers submitted her recipe for my cooking project. When a native Roman offers you a recipe for this, you take it. Here it is, lightly edited.

Fried Zucchini Flowers with Mozzarella and Anchovy

3 or 4 squash flowers per person, very fresh and without the pistils. Flowers are extremely delicate so open them carefully and stuff with a little cube of mozzarella cheese and a piece of anchovy. Then prepare a thick batter with flour, sparkly cold water (or beer). Dip the stuffed flower into the batter and fry in lots of oil, very hot. Remove them when light-brown colored and dry the excess oil with a paper towel. It comes out like a cloud, with inside….the surprise!

Daniela Cassoni

Rome, Italy

gourmetaly.com

First I went to my favorite organic farm to pick some flowers, male ones. Males are just flowers; they won’t have a little tiny zucchini on the stem, or a little tiny pumpkin*. They’re both in the same Curcubit family and so the flowers look very similar. Either will work. Took a peek to make sure there weren’t any bugs inside the flowers, taking a breather from the heat. There were. Shook them out.

Then I went home and got started on this very simple recipe. Daniela doesn’t give amounts, so I winged it, and it still worked fine. That part, anyway. I pulled apart fresh mozzarella into pieces about the size of a grape, but I could have made them bigger. For the batter, I combined 1/2 cup all-purpose flour with 1/2 cup cold filtered water** and stirred it with a fork. The batter wasn’t as thick as she suggested it should be, but this worked for me. I lined a plate with a napkin so the flowers could drain on it as I took them out of the oil.

Don’t I sound so on-the-ball so far? What a superhero!

Now for the smoke part…

1) I should have washed the flowers and removed the pistils before heating up the oil. I’ll rephrase: The oil got way overheated and started puffing smoke. So when I put the flowers in they cooked within three seconds and in the fourth turned black, emitting several uncomfortable-looking bits of charred flour or cheese or anchovy for all I know. Unless oil can solidify and burn? Lord knows it was hot enough, so this is entirely possible.

2) I set the oil on high. Newsflash, Maris: oil will get as hot as Daniela says it needs to be if you have it on medium or medium-low and wait a little. Then it won’t, you know, smoke up the place so much that you expect Bela Lugosi to pop by.

Result: It smoked up the place, Bela Lugosi summarily ran for his life, the fire alarm in my hallway went off, I grabbed a chair to stand on, yanked the contraption apart with one hand and held a battered, cheesed, anchovied flower in the other. Then I opened every single window and my back door.

But I kept going. So the oil sort of shone in a lurid way! So the house was thick as pea soup! I had flowers to fry. One by one I dropped them in, and after every other breath (read: cough) I took them out.

I didn’t expect them to taste good—look at the picture below, they’re not exactly the picture of health—but I was knocked out.  It sounded a lot like this: ‘COUGHCOUGHCOUGHCOUGHcrunchoooooohnotbad! Pretty freaking amazing, actually. Crunch. Oh my…God. WOW!’

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Exhausted.

I ate every single one within 30 seconds and while standing at my counter. It was impossible to stop.

When you make these—and I hope you will, because they are RIDICULOUSLY delicious—do as I say and not as I do: do your prep work in advance, have the oil on medium or medium-low heat and make sure it doesn’t smoke. It will get hot enough soon enough. Olive oil has a high smoke point, too. Use canola for a better shot. Then work quickly and serve immediately.

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Daniela, thank you for the recipe. Next time I’ll do right by it.

And as has become the custom when I foul up, I’m entertaining suggestions on how to remove the burnt oil from the sides of the pan. No, really.

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Pouting.

*I’m sure there’s a more scientific or at the very least educated way of describing this. It will not be found on this blog.

**Didn’t use sparkling because I don’t like it as a drink, and didn’t want to waste it. Same goes for beer. If any of you make the recipe Daniela’s way, please write in and let me know how it tastes. I’m curious.

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I’m feeling inspired.

Many, many of you have generously offered up your gorgeous recipes since I started writing a couple of years ago. I’d love more.

So here’s what I propose: A cooking tour—your recipes, me cooking and writing about them here on Eve’s Apple, and both of us talking about them afterward. I want to celebrate home cooks and what they make. And I think it would be fun to cook my way around the world if I can.

Here’s how you come in:

1) Send me your favorite recipe if you haven’t already.

A photo would be great, too, so I know what I’m shooting for. If I like it, I will add it to my list and cheerfully contact you to let you know. Please, no follow ups.

2) Stick to simple home cooking.

Most of you know this about me, but just to emphasize: I am far, far less impressed by the fancy, the fussy, the contrived and the eye-popping than in authentic, regional, humble dishes that focus on quality ingredients.

Soft-boiled eggs with dippy soldiers from Great Britain, melon jam from Greece, and fried zucchini blossoms from Rome are ideal examples of what I’m looking to cook (and I’ve received wonderful recipes of all three—thank you).

3) Send clear instructions of the recipe and the history behind it.

In other words, please tell me this sauce was your mother’s or grandmother’s favorite, or that your cousin has been making this potato salad for your family Labor Day picnic since 1956. I do love a story.

4) Allow me to do some light editing of the recipe if necessary.

5) Perimeters and no-go’s:

Please avoid…

-Recipes that call for cake mixes, MSG, processed foods and other artificial stuff. Chemicals can give me migraines.

-Anything too pricey, huge or difficult to find. If you’re a Laplander and want to offer your recipe for reindeer steaks, please know I’d dearly love to try it, but unfortunately, suburban New Jersey, USA doesn’t feature such things.

-Recipes that were found online, from a magazine, etc. I’d like ones from your own collection.

I’ll eat most foods. But some I won’t, because of flavor, politics or allergies, like: fennel/anise, veal, Chilean sea bass, swordfish, turnips, mint, eggplant and red radishes.

And p.s., I don’t own a grill or a microwave. I have an oven and 4 stove top jets. Old beach house.

6) Provide your name, city and country.

Message me one of two ways: via LinkedIn, or via email at mcproco@gmail.com. If your recipe is selected, I will credit you with your first name only, city and country.

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Just an FYI: I will not be cooking a new recipe every single day of the year because I gave up masochism for Lent. My plan is to cook as many as I can in a year’s time. But I’ll balance writing about this project with writing about other topics so nobody gets burned out and everybody stays chomping at the bit.

Deadline for recipe submissions is midnight EST, June 27, 2013.

Sound good?

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