by Teresa Ringholz

Created on: May 20, 2010   Last Updated: June 07, 2010

I looked down upon the beautiful plate of “fleur de courgette” in a restaurant in Nice, France where I was temporarily working in 1987.  

“What is that?” my American colleague asked. 

“Oh these are the male flowers of the zucchini plant, battered and fried.”  As I took my first bite of the delicate morsel my senses were filled with delight and my memory was awakened…

It was a bright sunny summer afternoon in Upstate New York and I was spending the day with my Italian Grandmother who lived down the street.  A visit with her was always special and my young mind soaked up all the information on various topics she would share.

On this particular day we headed out to her garden which was already laden with tomatoes, peppers, basil, and cucumbers; the essentials for any good Italian vegetable garden.

In the corner, the broad leaves of the zucchini plant outspread over the small tilled plot in the back yard, still waiting to yield its first fruit.  My grandmother hovered over the sprawling plants and gingerly began pulling back the giant leaves, revealing the bright orange flowers.

“What are you doing Grandma?” this inquisitive little 12 year old asked. 

“I am looking for boy flowers.” 

I gave a little embarrassed chuckle as I repeated: “Boy flowers?”

“Yes, for lunch,” she replied. 

My mind went scrambling.  First, I didn’t know that there was a sex difference between flowers and second I didn’t know you could even eat flowers.  How would flowers taste? How do you cook flowers?  Was I in for some bitter treat like the time my mother boiled down some weeds in the garden to cure my stomach ache?  When I choked down the thick potion, she exclaimed that it was an old Italian remedy!

“Look here,” Grandma said as she cowered low to the ground.  “This is a girl flower.  See, there is a tiny baby zucchini already on the bloom.”

I peered curiously between the leaves, almost afraid to wake the baby and delighted to see the small incubating protuberance.  “Oh!” I squealed with delight. 

“And look here, this is the male flower, there is no zucchini here, just a stem.”

Again I took a peek and immediately noticed the difference.  Grandma then carefully pinched the “boy” flower at its stem and handed it to me.  The sweet scent

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>