What's this flower doing in my food?

Frills have no place in home-cooked meals. These are intimate occasions where bones are meant to linger in stockpots and sustenance trumps style every time, where the offerings should facilitate lively chatter and encourage second helpings. So would edible flowers ever make it into the nightly repertoire? I don't think so.

But then the memory of a salad full of nasturtiums and borage springs to mind. On a chilly evening, the flowers made an ordinary green salad uncommon and an entire meal memorable. While charming, the edible flowers weren't merely ornamental. The nasturtiums were peppery and billowing and the sweet blue borage mild and cool. Colorful additions, they ultimately made us eat differently, slower and more deliberately. An ingredient with such effect surely has a place at table.

As a bounty of flowers is now in bloom, it seems the ideal time to explore their culinary value. In my garden at the Montalvo Arts Center in Saratoga, the nasturtium and borage plants are bright and full, and the lavender is perky. While broccoli went to seed a while back, its bright yellow flowers continue to make their way into our meals, holding their own particularly well with pasta, olive oil, pepper and Parmesan. Soon there will be flowers of thyme, sage, basil and rosemary.

Lots to play with — but how? I'm familiar with rose petal jam, elderberry fritters and stuffed squash blossom, but these feel somewhat fussy. How do restaurant chefs use these delicate offerings?


I didn't need to look far: Manresa, just down the road in Los Gatos, regularly incorporates edible flowers in its seasonal menus. Its signature dish Into the Vegetable Garden is a striking composition of flowers, herbs and greens that pays homage to the impeccable produce of its supplier, Love Apple Farms. In addition to a vast and exotic array of fruits and vegetables, Love Apple pays close attention to flavorful flowers. After all, as proprietor Cynthia Sandberg explains, Manresa Chef David Kinch loves them.

Tucked into the Santa Cruz Mountains, Love Apple is meticulously well kept, with patches of herbs and of wildflowers. To satisfy the restaurant's floral appetite, they also harvest from the vegetable crops on occasion. No precious petal is safe.

On the guided tour given to me one warm afternoon by Sara Lieber, an apprentice Love Apple farmer, we began with favas and worked our way down the vegetable plot. Favas grow as a cover crop on the farm, so sacrificing a flower was of little consequence. "We have more than enough favas," Lieber said, plucking off a sweet-looking, white-and-black flower. Its mild green flavor tasted of ... well, fava beans. Vegetable and herb flowers often taste of the plant's vegetable, though sometimes a milder version.

Next, there were pea flowers; they packed a surprisingly sweet punch and tasted of fresh raw peas. Their full, clean flavor lingered as we continued onto arugula. Love Apple grows arugula for its leaves, but once it goes to seed, it produces flowers that are sharp and peppery.

"Sometimes the restaurant uses these, but they're strong," Lieber said. Agreed, but they were wonderfully forceful little things.

In the herb patch, we went straight to the chervil and cilantro flowers to sample the delicate, intensely flavored umbels. "At the moment," Lieber said, "these are very popular with the cooks."

Next up, mild calendula petals, prized for their scent and bright orange color. Then there was borage, and theirs was different then any I'd had. A gorgeous fuchsia, it initially tasted of cucumber but ended with a spearmint note. There were violas, violets, pansies and roses, too. I was in sensory overload and eager to get cooking.

Returning to Montalvo, I was determined to create a three-course floral feast. With scents and flavors fresh in mind, I let fancy take hold and began with lavender, a favorite but pungent herb. It's an easy addition to poached fruits or syrups, but I'd never used it as a rub and wondered how it would pair with meat. Nicely, it turns out, especially with gamy duck and dried apricots. I've learned to use lavender cautiously, but the apricot and duck met lavender's lemony notes at a balanced halfway point.

Since duck was to be the main course, we'd start with something light. A flower salad with favas and ricotta? Why not? Nasturtiums and borage overflow in the garden. Tossed with Love Apple's beautiful pea shoots and flowers, they made a gorgeous salad mix. A gentle dressing of light olive oil, a sprinkle of fresh favas and sliced fresh ricotta would round it out.

For dessert, I played with Arabian jasmine, a favorite flower and fortunately edible — some jasmine varieties aren't. Often dried and used in teas, its honeydew scent seemed the perfect match for silky pot de crème. I threw jasmine flowers into the scalding cream and let it infuse off the heat for 30 minutes. Then I reheated the mixture and made the pot de crème as usual.

It was the most fun cooking I'd done in a while. How did it taste? Well, it encouraged lively chatter and second helpings.