Deep-fried acacia blossoms

In mid-August, I start to long for winter in Tuscany. Those months can be surprisingly cold, grey, and wet—but still gorgeous—and are slower, with only the locals out and about. Despite my love of winter it’s always exciting when the acacia trees start flowering—a sign of the landscape waking up. In early summer these delicate white cascades adorn acacias big and small, from the tallest trees to unassuming roadside bushes.

Best of all, you can taste this bit of summer. I’ve never seen it served at a restaurant, but the tradition of battering and frying these acacia blossoms is alive and well, passed among kitchens and between generations. It requires some foraging, since you won’t find acacia blossoms at a supermarket, but it’s an adventure that marks the season.

This old Tuscan recipe was told to a friend of mine by a 90-year old neighbor who is an avid forager. It’s simple, yet sophisticated, and adds drama whenever it’s served. There’s a slight floral flavor that’s unexpected in something fried. When we served it recently a friend called it “adult popcorn.”

I have heard that elderflowers and spring garlic are also delicious done this way.

To make deep-fried acacia flowers:
Gather bunches of acacia flowers when they are in early to full bloom. We don’t wash them (way too fragile), but you should look closely for any bugs. For the batter take about 1 cup of 00 flour (all-purpose also works) and mix with 1.5 cups of COLD sparkling water and a little salt. Mix it all together until you have a batter that’s the consistency of pancake batter. Pour about 4 inches of sunflower (or peanut) oil in a pan and heat until around 350 F (175 C). Hold the acacia blossoms by the stem and dip them in the batter, coating each well, then drop them in the oil, a few at a time, until they are a nice golden color. (Don’t let them drip too long before putting in the oil as you want them well-coated.) Remove and drain on paper towers, then serve as soon as you can. We’ve always sprinkled sea salt on top, but I’ve heard that a little acacia honey is also magic, and is rather poetic to boot.