Zucchini blossoms two ways

You probably don't need another knucklehead food writer going on and on about the culinary wonder that is the zucchini blossom.

So here's the deal. I'll promise not to be tiresome about how great these things are if you promise to overnight ship to me (chilled, of course) every male blossom in the garden that you do not intend to eat. (Yes, the males don't produce any fruit on the plant and so they are the ones to, er, snip. And who are you calling a food writer, anyway?)

Long story short, I score a lot of blossoms this time of year. Rarely does a petal go to waste.

Here's last night's batch, all cleaned up (the stamens, or reproductive organs of the flowers, removed) and ready to go — prepared a couple different ways.

The battered and fried way

Fried zucchini blossoms could not be simpler to prepare. Just mix together some flour and club soda, salt and pepper, then lightly coat the blossoms. (Make the mixture on the thin side and you'll get a lighter result, like tempura; that's how I do it.)

Drop them into hot (not just warm) olive oil and fry until one side's slightly crisp.

Turn and let the other side have a chance to crisp, and you're done.

Let the blossoms cool a minute or two, then have at it.

They won't last long.

The whatever comes to my mind way

I saved four of the blossoms from being battered and fried, but the buggers got tossed into a pan anyway — this time with olive oil and garlic, walnuts and a little hot pepper.

In the freezer were some of my homemade squid ink ravioli, filled with ricotta and walnuts.

And so there you go.

Oh, one other thing. Be a pal, would you, and shoot me an email with the tracking number after you ship off those blossoms.

I promise to take good care of them.

Dark side of the ravioli

I'm a big squid guy. If it's on the menu, I'm ordering it, at least once just to see how the place handles it. Sometimes I even score some when it isn't on the menu. Just the other day, whilst lunching at Saigon on Forest Ave., I managed to coax a couple of nicely grilled squid out of the kitchen. It was good. I was happy.

Lately, it also appears that squid ink has come running through my veins (see "The squid and the shrimp" post from 4/11). Possibly I ought be concerned over this. I am not.

As is often the case (sorry if I bore you here), I am forever in pasta-producing mode. Here's what went down.

You got your walnuts, your grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, a little nutmeg, pinch of salt, like that.

The Cuisinart does its thing.

Add in some fresh ricotta.

And you got your basic mushy mess of a filling.

Bop, bop, beep, boop.

And ravioli!

That is all.

Now go eat something.

The squid and the shrimp

Stuck in the house with a major flu, so what in the world to do?

Make the pasta.

With the squid ink.

Ink, eggs, olive oil and salt in the flour.

The dough.

The sheets.

And the noodles.

An angel delivered some nice Maine shrimp.

Put 'em together.

And it's done in a flash.

Sorry, gotta go.

Buon appetito!