Archive for the ‘flowers’ Category
Zucchini Flowers Stuffed with Ricotta, Spinach, and Prosciutto Crudo
*This recipe has been featured in the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner.*
Today’s What’s Cooking Wednesday has us playing with some flowers.
Those of the lovely zucchini, or courgettes to some of you:
Don’t they just look good enough to eat?
Fiori di zucchine come in two varieties, male and female, and they’re both edible. You can tell the females by the fact that they are attached to the zucchini whereas the males have stems like regular flowers. The ones pictured above, then, are males.
Plus, of course, the females have pistils and the males have stamens (you remember biology class, right?). They say you can leave these in when you prepare the flowers to be eaten, but I always remove them with a quick twist. Ouch!
There are a lot of very basic, very delicious recipes for fried zucchini flowers out there–just whip up a tempura batter with flour, egg, milk, and salt (slightly more exact measurements below), and fry ’em up.
And that’s what I did with about half of the flowers, the smaller ones.
With the rest, though, I wanted to try a little something more adventurous. So I spiced up my ricotta and spinach cannelloni filling with some prosciutto crudo. I loved the results, the way the saltiness of the prosciutto picked up the sweetness of the flowers and how the spinach brought it all back down with its earthy flavor.
All measurements are approximate, so feel free to play.
Zucchini Flowers Stuffed with Ricotta, Spinach, & Prosciutto Crudo
(Fiori di Zucchine Ripiene con Ricotta, Spinaci e Prosciutto Crudo) 
Approximately 25-30 large zucchini flowers
Filling:
1 egg yolk
One small container ricotta cheese (fresh if you can find it)
1/4 to 1/2 cup chopped spinach
prosciutto crudo, torn into bits or diced
grated parmigiano reggiano cheese
dash nutmeg
salt to taste
Batter:
(Note: I used this for all the flowers,
so this was enough for about 60 in all)
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup milk
1/4 teaspoon salt (to taste)
Oil for frying
1. Prepare the batter and set aside; it shouldn’t be too thick for this recipe, although here they definitely make this batter quite thick and you end up with almost a fritter–tasty too, but not what we’re going for here.
One note: do remember that you’re dealing with flowers, so be gentle.
2. To prepare the zucchini flowers, remove the stamens and stems and then wash the flowers carefully and put them on paper towels to dry. Note that you can also leave the stems on for presentation purposes, but I usually take them off.
3. Prepare the filling by combining all the ingredients above and gently stuff the zucchini flowers up until the point where the petals start to open. I used a makeshift pastry bag (Ziploc with the corner cut off). You can twist the petals a bit to close in the stuffing. If you aren’t going to fry them right away, you can store the stuffed flowers this way in the fridge for a few hours, although I wouldn’t wait too long because the ricotta can get watery.
4. When you’re ready to fry, heat the vegetable oil in a medium to large pan.
5. One by one, dip the stuffed flowers in the batter (you’re going to have to use your hands here) and let excess batter drip off. Then drop the flower in oil and allow all sides to brown before you lift out and put on paper towels to drain. I’d recommend only frying two flowers at a time otherwise they become difficult to keep track of increasing burning possibilities.
Although they require a bit of prep work, these make tasty, impressive-looking appetizers, but you need to serve them warm. If you won’t be serving right away, use an oven to keep them heated until you’re ready to serve.
Buon appetito!
seashells *and* ponies!
Good news and bad news.
Bad news first, OK?
I won’t be around for a few days because of various work commitments, so you probably won’t hear from me again until Friday or so (most likely no What’s Cooking Wednesday, sniff sniff).
Just didn’t want anyone to worry about me or my Internet connection, so there you have it.
Now the good news:
As I type this, the cuffs of my capri-length jeans are still damp from the waters of the Ionian Sea (although I have changed out of them) and bits of sand are sprinkled throughout my house.
Let’s start in the early morning.
This morning I was walking Luna when I stopped to take this photo of a pretty tree in the piazza:
Check out the (untouched) color of the sky. I just knew it would be a good day.
Also, you can’t see them very well, but there are some fallen petals on the sidewalk; obviously I got there before the rubbish collector did, otherwise they’d have been swept up.
While I was snapping, P’s sister-in-law came over to me. We chatted for a few minutes–P is currently painting her house–and when I mentioned I had to go down to the Marina (part of the village on the coast, 5 km away), she offered me a ride as she was headed there.
This was an hour before I was planning to leave on the bus, so I took Luna home and packed up everything I’d need for my errands, which included the bank (ATM), bakery, grocery store, market, and beach if there was time (not an errand, but a thought).
But soon the whole plan changed.
As I was finishing up at the ATM machine, I got a call from one of my employers telling me that I could go pick up my paycheck (my first from them–only two months late!) at a bank in another town. So I hurried up with my errands in the Marina and caught the bus to the other town.
When I arrived at the bank, I couldn’t believe it–only five people in line! Oh. Just one teller.
And there’s the rub.
So I waited an hour and a half for a transaction that took literally two minutes. By then, I had missed the next bus back to my village, although I was blessed with the amusing sight of a woman being refused entry into the bank.
[For those who don’t know, in order to enter a bank here, you have to press a button for a little Star Trek-like glass pod to open. You step in and the Controller of the Pod (we’ll call this person “COP”) says yea or nay via a button that opens the other side of the pod leading into the bank.]
This poor woman, probably in her 30s, long black hair pulled back in a pony, stepped in and out of the pod at least five times with no luck. I think she finally went and put her purse in her car because she eventually convinced the COP (with no havoc ensuing, thank goodness).
Anyway, by the time I finally got another bus to the Marina (I’d then need a separate bus, passing through the Marina an hour later, to get up to my village), it was noon and I was starving. So I did what any self-respecting non-Italian would do at mezzogiorno–I got a panino and a peach iced tea and headed for the beach.
Of course at that hour, the seaside was all mine as all the real Italians were home for lunch most likely featuring pasta and not simply prosciutto and provola like I was about to have.
But before I got to the sand and surf, I was greeted by ponies (and a horse and a donkey)!
Circus is in town, you see. Not as funny (and useful!) as these ponies, but that first one really has something to brag about if you ask me.
Soon I got comfy with my lunch.
As this was yet another unplanned beach excursion, I didn’t have any of the usual supplies. I had to make do with a scarf, which I always have in my bag, and rolled up capri pants. In the past couple months, I’ve come to realize that I actually don’t dislike going to the beach as I always thought I had–what I hate is the preparation, the making sure I have absolutely everything I might need.
A trip to the sea is quite enjoyable, I’ve found, when you simply show up.
When my belly was full, I walked along the beach snapping some more photos.
Did I mention that our water is clean, clean, clean?
And then it was time to go.
But not before I grabbed some free souvenirs so that I can always remember those gorgeous few hours.
Ah, and then it got even better!
When I arrived home, a copy of Eat, Pray, Love was waiting for me–my prize for winning Shelley’s (At Home in Rome) La Mia Italia post contest with Conquering Evil (One Plastic Red Horn at a Time)!
Hope everyone’s week is as lovely as my Monday has been!
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[tags]sea, ionian sea, calabria, badolato, ponies, horses, donkeys, circus, seashells, shells, beach, sand, southern italy, italy[/tags]
love thursday: chased by a cloud
The other day while out walking with Luna on a gorgeous clear morning, I noticed that the cacti are starting to bloom flowers, soon to be followed by the delicious fichi d’india, or prickly pears.
So of course I took a photo.
Only after I uploaded it did I notice that a heart-shaped cloud had snuck into the shot.
Clouds of love are chasing me. How lucky am I?
Happy Love Thursday* everyone!
*Note that the founders of “Love Thursday” have decided to stop updating the Love is All Around site. Thank you, Karen and Irene, for reminding us all to pay attention to simple expressions of love in our daily lives.
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[tags]love thursday, clouds, heart clouds, flowers, cacti, prickly pears, fichi d’india[/tags]
no parking (plus a poppy)
This is a sign in the corner of the small piazza near my house.
For those who don’t know, these two, taken together mean “No parking in the entire sqaure.”
There didn’t use to be the additional “per tutta la piazza” language below the main sign, but it was added because some crafty parkers argued that, well, they weren’t parked right below the sign, so they weren’t in violation of anything.
Glad we got that cleared up.
Bonus! Here’s a poppy just because.
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[tags]no parking, poppies, flowers[/tags]
Happy Birthday Mom!
Prompt #57: Wings
Cheesy as it sounds, the first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was Bette Midler’s song, Wind Beneath My Wings. And my next thought was of my mom, because, well, that’s what she is to me, and that song always brings tears to my eyes because it makes me think of her. Doesn’t hurt that today just happens to be her birthday as well.
My mom is truly my best friend, *the* one I turn to in times of happiness, sadness, and every emotion in between, and she has always, always, always been there for me. She’s never disappointed me. Not once. Ever.
Is she a saint? Well, sometimes I think so, but as far as I know, she hasn’t performed any miracles. Well, other than managing to remain a kind, loving person after what one could only euphemistically call a rough childhood.
But that’s her story, and certainly not mine to tell here.
What I can tell is my story, or rather ours from my perspective. How I became best friends with my mom through weekend and once a week visits. How she sacrificed custody of my brother and me when she left my father because she knew that’s what was best for us. We had already been growing up in a house with my father’s family; she saw no need to pull us from the stability. Besides, she was working the 3-11 shift at a hospital a half hour away–not the easiest hours to maintain when you have a 2 and 8 year old.
Of course I didn’t know any of this until many, many years later. But oh, how I appreciate it now. I marvel at the strength it must have taken to do something so unselfish, and I only hope I’ve inherited and/or learned half of what she’s exhibited.
And so, during my formative years, we got the best of the mother-daughter relationship (shopping, intimate chats, watching stand-up comedy into the wee hours of the morning on HBO, trying all the new restaurants) without all the daily annoyances (curfews, how much time we hogged the bathroom, begging permission to do things). Who woulda thought I would’ve ended up with such an idyllic childhood after my parents divorced when I was so young?
Now a lot of the goodwill that sprung up between us came because my mom let me be my own person, within boundaries of course. Controlling and domineering, she’s not, but she’s not a complete pushover either (although even she would admit to being more of the latter when it comes to her kids).
One of the stories she loves to tell, and that I have come to admire, is that I was always allowed to pick out my clothes–from the choice of a few pre-selected outfits. That way, she reasoned, I had the feeling that I was in control and making my own choices but at the same time didn’t leave the house in horribly mismatched, embarrassing outfits. Genius!
And that’s why I love my mom. She guides without pushing. She listens without judging. She loves with all her heart without taking.
And sometimes I think she’s more than the wind beneath my wings–she just may be my wings themselves.
Happy Birthday Mom.
And thank you. For everything.
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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