Ricotta Squash Blossoms

A couple of unexpected things have begun to happen since I first started this blog back in April. The first is that I’m getting more serious about using up foods from the freezer and the other is that I’m finally tackling some of the foods on my culinary “bucket list.” I keep a running list of dishes I’d like to try one day—either because I’ve seen it in a magazine or cooking show or because I’ve tasted it somewhere. And when I taste something and love it, my instinct is “I’ve got to make that!” As of now, the list includes (among other things) pierogis, handmade mozzarella, and black-and-white cookies, a childhood favorite of Les, my NYC-raised husband.

Today, I can scratch off a dish that I only added to the list as a “maybe someday” item—fried squash blossoms. I’d never dared even think about what was involved in making these lovely delicacies, but I knew how delicious they are from a wine dinner menu years ago at one of our city’s authentic Italian restaurants. So I added them to the list even though they intimidated me.

Last week, once the shock of discovering life in my raised-bed garden wore off, I got serious about trying them for real. After all, I had a hearty handful of these perfect little blossoms, and what’s the worst that could happen—I’d fail?

The thing is, it was not a failure at all. Quite the contrary. They were surprisingly simple (yes, really) and perfectly delicious. I scanned a few internet recipes for suggestions of what they should be stuffed with and to learn how to fry them without overwhelming their delicate structure, and then I got to work. When I launched Comfort du Jour, I had two goals, but I’ve put most of my effort toward only one of them—taking a classic comfort food to new levels. This project is a delicious example of my second goal—finding a way to make a complex or intimidating dish more approachable.

Before you shake your head and decide you could never make these, let me put this out there—if you can pick a flower and if you can squeeze ricotta cheese from a corner-cut zip top bag, you can make these. Yes, it’s really that simple. Grab an apron and let’s get started.


Handful of freshly picked squash blossoms* (see notes below)

3/4 cup whole milk ricotta cheese

Handful of fresh basil leaves*

1/4 cup grated parm-romano cheese

Sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 can chilled, unflavored seltzer water (or club soda or very mild beer)

1/2 cup canola oil for frying*


In my First Fruits post earlier this week, I pointed out what I’d learned about squash plants having “male” and “female” blossoms. For this recipe, I used only male blossoms. It’s easy to identify them because they don’t show the beginnings of any tiny squash fruit. Once the female blossoms have been pollinated (as mine were), the male flowers are basically just decoration.

Basil is one of those polarizing herbs. Some people swear it tastes like dish soap, and I’d hate for that to stop anyone from trying these special treats. Swap the basil out for thyme, parsley or oregano as you like.

Another neutral oil would be fine for frying. Be sure it is an oil with a high smoke point, such as avocado, coconut or grapeseed oil.


  1. Place the ricotta in a mesh strainer over a measuring cup to drain excess moisture.
  2. Carefully reach inside the squash blossoms and remove the stamen, which is a bulbous yellow thing inside. It’s the, um—how shall I say it?—male part of the blossom. Don’t worry if the petals tear a little bit. And may I suggest that you consider doing this step outside at the garden. I made a first-timer’s mistake of doing this at the kitchen sink and scared the bejeezus out of a pollinator bee inside a blossom. Sadly, I had to smash it in the sink because Les is terribly allergic to bee stings. I felt awful about it, but I went through a lot to find this wonderful man, and it was him or the bee.
  3. Rinse the blossoms under cold running water, and gently shake them to empty out excess water. Lay them on a couple layers of paper towel to drain.
  4. Rinse and blot dry the fresh basil leaves, then stack and chop them into small pieces. Mix the basil leaves into the strained ricotta, along with the parm-romano cheese, salt and pepper. Spoon the ricotta mixture into a small zip top bag and seal it.
  5. Snip a small corner off one end of the zip top bag, and gently squeeze a heaping tablespoon of the ricotta mixture inside each blossom. The blossoms will “give” a little bit as you go, and it will feel obvious that you’ve filled them enough. Stretch the blossom petals around to fully cover the filling and twist the tops very gently to seal them up. They don’t have to be perfect, but the goal is to keep the filling from spilling out during frying. Rest the filled blossoms on a paper towel while you prepare the batter and frying oil.
  6. Place a cast-iron skillet over medium heat and add the canola oil. This is not a lot of oil, so it will heat up fairly quickly. It should be about 1/2″ deep in your skillet.
  7. In a medium-size bowl, mix some salt and pepper into the flour, and stir in enough seltzer water to make a thin batter. It will bubble quite a bit, and that’s a good thing. It should be thinner than pancake batter, but not quite as thin as heavy cream. When I dipped the blossoms into the batter, they were coated, but I could still see them through the batter.
  8. Very gently lay the blossoms into the hot oil and be careful not to crowd them or they will stick together. When the bottom side is lightly golden and crisp, turn them to cook the other side. Drain the fried blossoms on fresh paper towels, sprinkle immediately with sea salt and serve.
They were so pretty, and remarkably easy to make. I’m proud of myself for this elegant appetizer!

Oh yes.

So light and crispy, and they didn’t need any kind of dipping sauce or other accoutrements. To keep our dinner easy and light that evening, I put together a simple tomato sauce (thank you, leftovers) with bucatini pasta. These three pictures describe how easy that was, and it really needs no additional explanation. Simple is good, right?

If this is how they eat in Italy, I want to move there tomorrow!

My “bucket list” experiment of making fried squash blossoms ended very, very well. It was also Les’s first experience tasting them, and though skeptical at first, he declared during dinner that he was a fan.

These were Les’s first ever squash blossoms, and he really enjoyed them.

Do you have foods on a bucket list? Tell me about it in the comments, and then go cook them. Be brave in your kitchen!

Want to print this recipe?

First Fruits

Last week, when I came home from a weekly grocery run, I stepped warily toward the garden at the end of the driveway. I’m accustomed to feeling like a lousy farmer thanks to the herd of deer in our woods. With a sigh on my lips, I lifted back the giant leaves drooping from our squash and zucchini plants, anticipating root rot or squash bug infestation or something equally disgusting and disheartening.

Gasp—there’s life in there! Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

Truly, nobody is more surprised than I am to find that our pitiful little raised bed is displaying its first fruits. Remember the carnage I found recently, in discovering that our eggplant and pepper plants had their tops chomped off? But as Jeff Goldblum’s character said in the original Jurassic Park film, “life finds a way,” and it seems to be true in our side yard. Hallelujah!

In addition to the first beautiful zucchini, which I almost left to grow another day (nope—I’ve learned my lesson there), we have lots of basil and a whole bunch of yellow squash blossoms. In past years, I mistakenly assumed that loads of blossoms would mean as many actual fruit. But unlike the reality of our “gender lesson” in bell peppers a few weeks ago, squash blossoms do present either male or female, and most of these will not be producing squash babies.

Most of these blossoms are male, meaning they will not yield a squash plant.

The male flowers are still important, naturally, for their role in pollination of the female blossoms. The hardworking bees, which have taken up residence in the nearby wildflower garden (you know what they say—location, location, location), will be blossom-hopping for the next few weeks to do just that. I hope we continue to see fruit on these plants, and now that I know they’re producing, I’ll be watching the undersides of the leaves to protect against squash bugs. I love zucchini and squash in absolutely every form, and I have a new spiralizer tool I’m eager to try, so I’m crossing my fingers.

And the basil—holy wow, the basil is growing like crazy but is in need of my immediate attention or I may lose the whole lot of it. If you haven’t grown your own, or maybe you have but with varying degrees of success, I’ll be happy to share what I’ve learned about properly tending to these fragrant summer herbs. When they start to show these little clusters on the ends of the stems, they’re getting ready to go to seed (or “bolt”), and that would be a disappointing end to my pesto goals because once it goes to seed, the basil leaves lose their full flavor and take on a bitterness that is most unpleasant.

This is a sign that my basil plant is getting ready to “bolt.” It’s time to prune!

A few years ago, a Pinterest post led me through a  simple basil pruning technique which made a world of difference in my herb gardening. The basil needs to be “pinched back.” Removal of those little clusters before they begin to flower will send a message to the basil that there’s more growing to do, and if you keep at it, the plant will continue to become bushier until you almost literally have basil coming out your ears. In my case, it might also help protect the other surviving plants in my garden because deer allegedly cannot stand the smell of basil. Here’s hoping!

It’s easy to do—get up close to the cluster and look for a point along the stem below it where twin leaves are positioned across from each other. Just above those twin leaves, pinch off the stem. That’s all there is to it. I usually take a kitchen scissors out to the garden with me and snip them rather than pinching. It goes faster, makes a cleaner cut and doesn’t leave my hands smelling like strong basil. The stems you snip will stop growing, leaving room for new stems to form from the twin leaves. Where there used to be one stem, there will soon be two.

As you go, the basil will require more frequent pruning because stems will multiply. But if there’s a big jar of fresh pesto at the end of it, I’m in! The plant may grow upward somewhat, but mostly you will see a bushy formation, and each time I prune, I’ll have plenty to use along the way to pesto heaven.

I’m going to find a simple way to use these in the kitchen.

It’s been an exciting day in the garden, and I’m going to whip up something delicious with my first fruit haul. I’ll show you in a day or two what I came up with.

Oh, happy day!