Tonight the courgette flowers remind me of little purses, sunset pouches of petals, holding their treasures of dolce sardo to melt into stretchy threads (but no capers as I still haven't learnt to like them). We fry them in a batter beaten with sparkling water and eat them hot and crackly, licking the salt from our fingers.
I wonder who first decided it would be delicious to fry flowers from courgettes, my husband says as he puts one in his mouth at the same time as two green jewelled capers.
I often wonder who the first person was to discover any kind of food...
I think, how I often have, about the the first person who ever baked a cake; what genius it took to put eggs and sugar and flour together like that. How I would have liked to have been there at the birth of the first cake.
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