Fritto misto

I don’t have much time to cook right now. Actually, it’s not really a matter of time but of opportunity. I can cook after 9 pm, when I often get home – but I often don’t feel like cooking the kinds of things I want to eat, given the enormous lunches so often provided gratis by the law firm. For the rest of the summer, then, I’m going to experiment with the cooking version of my restaurant “snapshots” - short tidbits relating to one quick dish or experience over the last week. The dinner last Sunday was my first try in that direction – but it’s a style I’m still working on to perfect.

In any case, I went to the Union square farmer’s market this morning looking for floury potatoes, fresh eggs, and perhaps some dandelion leaves or some other interesting bits of greenery. The idea was to have a pleasant summer brunch for dinner, in the form of eggs hollandaise perched atop a potato pancake – if I was feeling particularly devilish, perhaps I would find some organic bacon to render, yielding some cooking fat for the pancake. But that’s really the wrong way to go to a farmer’s market, now that I think about it. What you should do is go with an open mind, ready to buy whatever looks delicious – or catches your eye – or just seems like the kind of thing you’d like to eat that night.

Once I saw these zucchini flowers sitting in small boxes at one stand, I knew there just wasn’t anything else to do. They looked fresh, and were cheap – and I had just been mumbling to myself about the distinct lack of vegetables in my diet this summer. It’s not that I’ve given up on my commitment to healthiness – the amount of fruit I shovel indecorously onto my plates is almost obscene. But for whatever reason, I haven’t been eating a lot of greenery. These elegant squash with their delicate blossoms still attached fit the bill perfectly.

Zucchini flowers have a relatively limited number of uses. You don’t want to overcook them – and it’s rather a shame if you cut them up at all. The great Mario Batali suggests a tortellini of them in his book on Italian country cooking – and there’s also a recipe I’ve seen somewhere involving buffalo ricotta. But to my mind, the most basic choice is the best. Zucchini flowers ought to be dipped in a mix of milk, semolina, flour, salt, pepper, and olive oil, and then fried in a deep vat of yet more flavorful oil. They shouldn’t be over-battered – make sure to use as little as possible, and when they come out, the only flavoring they should see is some more salt, and perhaps a wedge of lemon. The resultant vegetable is crisp on the outside, delicate and intensely tasty within. One you arrange them hot, and crusty and salty on your plate, you'll realize they need no meaty accompaniment to serve as a glorious dinner. Take my advice – the next time you see these things anywhere, buy them while you can. They’ll pay dividends not only that night, but if you’re like me, for mornings of daydreaming after.