How and why to eat squash blossoms

by Ari LeVaux

Squash blossoms, breaded and deep-fried, are insanely delicious – which isn’t saying much. After all, you could deep-fry a breaded rat’s ass with tasty results. So it’s a shame that tempura-style is so often the focus when the conversation turns to squash blossoms. They’re better cooked in a way that highlights, rather than hides, their delicate, floral, squashy flavor.

Beyond the flavor, squash blossoms are beautiful, with an appealing mystique. A squash blossom necklace of turquoise and silver is the cornerstone of many a Native American jewelry collection. Nearly every life stage of the squash is eaten, including the seeds, the immature fruit (aka summer squash), the mature fruit (winter squash), the young shoots and the blossoms. The hard shells are used as vessels and decoration.

Adding to the blossoms’ allure, at least in my book, is the fact that they’re as fleeting as summer, and one of the few foods that can’t be preserved. They must be consumed while they’re fresh, which all but ensures any squash blossom you eat will be local during their brief window of availability, which lasts from July through early September.

If you expect to go blossom hunting at the farmers market, arrive early. They’re usually a popular item and quickly sell out. Plus, you want to get them home and cool before the day heats up. By the same token, if you’re deflowering your own plants, it’s best to do so early in the morning and keep the blossoms in the fridge until you’re ready to use them.

Squash blossoms come in both male and female forms, and only female flowers produce squash, while male flowers produce pollen to fertilize the female flowers. Thus, by picking only male blossoms – the ones with the pollen-covered stamen inside – you won’t be robbing the cradle on your own squash crop, provided you leave a few males per patch to pollinate the females. When preparing male blossoms to eat, make sure to remove the stamen, which is edible but bitter. And always take a peek inside, because there might be a bee doing its business. The stem near the flower is edible, so leave about an inch attached.

The salient difference between summer and winter squash is that summer squash is tastier when it’s young, before the shell hardens, as it eventually will. According to James Beard, many European chefs will only use summer squash if it’s so young that it still has a flower attached. These delicate babies are a feast for the eyes as well as the tongue. They look and taste great in the following squash blossom soup recipe:

Melt one tablespoon unsalted butter in a pan on medium heat. Add an onion and two cloves garlic, both finely chopped, and sauté until the onions become translucent. Decrease heat to low, add a teaspoon salt and a half teaspoon pepper, and as many squash blossoms (male or female, with or without babies attached) as you can. Sauté for three minutes, stirring often to prevent burning. Add six cups chicken stock, bring to a boil over high heat, and simmer for 10 minutes. Serve hot, garnished with chervil.

This simple recipe, which I got from a gorgeous book called Foods of the Southwest Indian Nations by Lois Ellen Frank, is perhaps the most elegant way I know of letting the delicate squash blossom flavor shine without being upstaged by strong flavors or smothered in batter.

But if you’re determined to batter-fry your blossoms, make a batter from half a cup of water, one beaten egg, one cup of flour, and half a cup of heavy cream. Whisk together with a fork, slowly adding water until it’s thin enough to dip a flower into. Let it stand for an hour. Dredge the blossoms in the batter, and fry them in hot oil (ideally safflower or grapeseed, which won’t smoke as easily as olive oil) until golden brown.

Here’s a mellow celery sauce that makes a nice accompaniment to batter-fried blossoms: Boil two cups chopped celery for 20 minutes in salted water. Drain, puree in a food processor, and cook 10 minutes with one tablespoon of butter, a teaspoon of ground nutmeg, a pinch of ground black pepper and salt to taste.

Meanwhile, if you leave several blossoms in the leftover batter overnight, it makes great pancakes. After a night in the batter, the blossom flavor permeates, and maple syrup on top adds the sweetness one would expect from a flower. Highly recommended.

Stuffing squash flowers is another popular way to overwhelm their delicate flavor. Chevre, with or without herbs or apricot jam, is really good. So is avocado mashed with curry powder, roasted garlic and chopped tomatoes (this leftover stuffing makes an outstanding omelet). After stuffing the blossoms, twist the tips of the petals together, as if putting the finishing touches on a “hand-rolled cigarette,” as one chef I know puts it.

You can wilt your stuffed flowers in the oven for two minutes at 350. Or you can bread and fry them, which gives the stuffed blossoms a more solid form and helps hold the stuffing in. Another breading option, perhaps more culturally appropriate to the Southwest – where squash blossoms were first eaten – is cornmeal: Dredge blossoms, stuffed or unstuffed, in beaten egg, roll in cornmeal, and fry as above.

If you want the easiest preparation, simplest presentation, and most unobstructed squash blossom flavor, fry some blossoms, unbreaded and unstuffed, slowly in butter or extra-virgin olive oil until they’re brown on all sides and crispy. Arrange artfully on a plate, and drizzle with balsamic vinegar, preferably aged. Eat them on the deck, patio or porch during a lazy evening, while sipping a cool drink and watching summer slip away into the sunset. •