Forget roses, give me squash flowers

My 5-year-old son has been wanting to plant a vegetable garden, and this weekend we finally got around to it. But I am going to remember this for next year: Loosely translated, "I want to plant a garden" means "You do it. And call me in two months when the fried squash flowers are ready."

Fried squash flowers? What, you've never had them? (I had them for the first time only last year, but it makes me feel like a Southern belle to act like I've made them my whole life. Like I garden in white gloves, my hair in a bouffant, and ice tea at the ready...when in fact I'm a Northerner, who gardens without gloves so my manicure is ruined, my hair in a ponytail turned in on itself, and the only beverage in sight is the one that comes out of the garden hose...or from a bottle that says Mike's Hard Lemonade.)

Anyway, Jude refused to help because of the bugs that my superficial tilling uncovered. To be honest, these aren't your usual bugs...they are prehistoric bugs, like maybe our yard is some sort of Gateway to Bug Hell, with all tarantulas and Africanized honey bees safely ensconced in Bug Purgatory.

So Jude runs off to his swing, me reassuring him: "They are more afraid of you...No bug has ever eaten a person...that I know of."

Back to the moral of the story: All vegetables taste better fried in oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper. And with yellow squash, same goes for their flowers.

So here's my tip of the day: Grow some yellow squash and then pluck off the male flowers (the larger ones). Remove the stamens and gently rinse the flowers and pat them dry.

And then do this:

Combine about a cup of milk with a tablespoon of flour and some salt and pepper and maybe a shake of hot sauce. Dip the flowers in the mixture. Fry in olive oil in a hot pan until they are golden brown. Drain on paper towel.

Eat. Repeat.

The design part? We should probably have a design part: Put them on a pretty plate.