The Monday Farmer’s Market Report: Squash Blossoms

Img_5268I saw them at the stall: squash blossoms. Was this some autumn abomination? Aren’t these a springtime delicacy? To this transplanted New Yorker, they were that rarity: the flowers of a squash, a fleeting tender iteration of all that is a squash, with none of the tannic bitterness. Sweet, mild, earthy, just so. Apparently the weather allowed the squash to take root again and the blossoms blessed us for a repeat performance before winter hit. And not only were they here, but they were here in both of their gendered forms: the female, a blossom with a tiny little squash growing off the flower. And the male, a flower and, yep, a big long stalk. I’d heard the male had more flavor, not having offloaded it’s growing power to its squash offspring, all its life contained in the flower. The metrosexual of produce. A floral dandy. I asked the woman at the stall for the male squash blossoms. My daughter asked me what I was talking about. I almost started explaining the difference between male and female produce, and then caught myself. I thought, there’s no way I’m going to teach her about the birds and the bees on vegetarian terms. I dodged the question. Later that day, I stuffed the blossoms with goat cheese and fresh mozarella, breaded them in flour and panko bread crumbs, then fried them in olive oil. We’ll leave the whole bird and bees and blossoms question for another day.

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