Essay by Emily Gelsomin
How Deep-Fried Flowers Can Improve Your Life
There is nothing rational regarding what I’m about to say. But then again, there is nothing inherently rational about deep-frying the flower from a squash plant, is there? In fact, it’s probably best to disengage the thinking mind altogether on this one.
Too ephemeral for any outside drama or noisy to-do lists, squash blossoms are best cooked the day they are picked. So they force you to live in the moment. Depending on your level of commitment, you may even find yourself thinking in hour-long squash blossom increments.
And this makes them beyond beautiful. If you struggle with living in the past or in the future, they can act like an instant, edible self-help book. You know the kind. The kind that urges you to behave in the present. The kind with a name like The Power of Now or You Can Heal Your Life.
So stop worrying about your ticking biological clock. Or your irritable bowel syndrome. Or what it means when someone calls you an alpha female. Because the only thing that matters when you’re in the presence of squash blossoms is that these little guys don’t wilt and die on you. (That I’m recommending you deep-fry them likely helps with this in-the-moment living, too.)
When I happened upon them recently at a Boston farmers’ market, I scooped them all up. Every. Last. One. And then immediately started to panic. My plans for the night had just changed. This may seem a tad extreme from a rational perspective, but I’d been on the hunt for squash blossoms since 2008, which was the last time I found them. I did not have a squash blossom contingency plan in place.
To cook my squash blossoms, I needed goat cheese to stuff them with and oil to fry them in. Did I have canola oil at home? (I did not.) Did the goat cheese guy at the market have plain goat cheese left? (He did not.) So I was convinced by “goat cheese guy” to buy a version with specks of ginger in it and then hit Savenor’s Market on the way home for some grapeseed oil. And—after some deep breathing—I was all the better for it.
Which got me thinking. I believe squash blossoms are made for those breezy, Northern California, Alice Waters types who stroll through farmers’ markets with big wicker baskets, sniffing peaches. They are not inherently made for neurotic North Easterners who scurry to the farmers’ market on their lunch breaks, ruminating about what to make for dinner and whether they still have enough eggs left to procreate.
But everyone benefits from the blossom, really. And if they're fried and come out of hot oil heading straight for your plate, even the most pressing woes fade away. It quiets the noise immediately. Especially with the melty cheese involved.
So, on second thought, deep-fried squash blossoms are made especially for us Woody Allen types. While we are too pragmatic (and cynical) to let a squash blossom heal our lives, having a few now and then never hurts.
Art Information
- “NoMa Farmers’ Market” © Laura Padgett; Creative Commons license
As a self-taught cook, registered dietitian, and lover of all things food-related, Emily Gelsomin writes a food blog called A Plum By Any Other Name, which focuses on eating locally and eating well. She is currently pursuing a master's degree in gastronomy at Boston University.
As a freelance writer, she hopes to touch upon the origin of food and the joy of cooking and, with any luck, offer a little comfort when the pot of life boils over.
This piece first appeared, in a slightly different form, as “The Power of Goat Cheese Stuffed Squash Blossoms” on Emily’s blog. You'll find a recipe for fried squash blossoms with the original post.
