Peek - a - boo. A couple of days ago, one of my courgette flowers opened:
It had been hiding as they do, sheltered by a sturdy green canopy. They know their worth, an ever popular and increasingly sought after delicacy. Stuffed, they are apparently a fine diner's delicacy.
Bristol was host to a foodie festival at the weekend - where local restauranteurs demonstrate their exceptional skills while stall after stall lined up to sell over-priced 'posh' sausages. If it wasn't for the local culinary masters I would be sceptical about the worth of these festivals. But one particular gem on offer was pan-fried courgette flowers stuffed with goats cheese and pine nuts (more of a mouthful than the dish).
However, in order to be stuffed it seems they need to be picked before they flourish. I could be wrong and stand to be corrected (as ever), but it does make me wonder that if, on hearing Jamie Oliver had praised their kind, evolution kicked in hard. So, in order to protect themselves from the scourge of the mini Oliver in all of us (oh dear, did I really just write that?), the flower keeps itself from sight until the point where it's too late and then melts us with it's burst of colour.
Or laughs in our face, depending on your point of view.
And a question troubling the mind of my friend with the lovely radishes is, if you pick the flower do you lose the fruit?
