Goo-Goo-Googling
Along
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I woke up with yellow eyeballs. The color was not quite
glow-in-the-dark neon yellow, but definitely, the whites of my yes sported a
sickly yellowish cast, gunked with matter.
In lieu of a thermometer, I felt my Ford-bumper with the
back of my hand. Felt normal to me. All systems functioning.
Next I did what any modern person with access to internet
knows not to do but does it despite themselves. I consulted Dr. Google. “What
causes yellow eyes, O Great Oracle?”
Frankly, I didn’t care for any of the options on offer but
felt like I needed a starting point, so I chose malaria. I might have picked
extreme delayed reaction to excessive alcohol consumption but it’s been a while.
Besides, I pondered, perhaps it is hereditary. My Dad contracted
malaria in the Army with a relapse when I was very tiny. I remembered it as a
horrific time of nicotine-soaked sheets (Camels unfiltered and roll-your-own), fear
pervading the atmosphere and a gray-haired doctor with the requisite black bag
who came to the house with shots and pills.
All things considered, I have three fresh mosquito bites in
the fold of my arm as evidence.
Other options niggled at me in the background of my mind but
I have a powerful defense system in place, ignored the whispers and got on with
my day, doctoring my eyeballs frequently with Manzanilla Sophia drops, a proven
Mexican remedy for eye irritants, made with sterile water and chamomile tea. Besides,
the last thing I wanted was to go to town to the hospital for tests while the
Ugly Virus runs rampant.
Later I was out among my buckets peering beneath leaves,
searching for a zucchini to eat for dinner. Leo asked me if I’d ever eaten
squash blossoms. I’ve had squash blossom soup. It’s good. He went on to
describe squash blossom quesadillas and fried squash blossoms.
The more I thought about it, the more appealing fried squash
blossoms became, especially as I have two buckets of zucchini. And a lot of
blossoms.
I was afraid if I picked all the blossoms though, I’d not
have enough squash. Silly woman, we are talking about zucchini here, more
notorious than rabbits.
So I punched in Garden Google and discovered that squash has
male and female blossoms. True to form, the males are for pollination and the
females do all the work. Learning to distinguish between the two is easy. Use
your imagination. I just had to leave one or two males for pollination and I
could eat all the other flowers. Interestingly, there are more men than women.
Next I opened the door to Kitchen Google and looked at
several ways to prepare the blossoms for frying. It’s not rocket science. It’s
not even kitchen science. So I figured I’d ignore the suggestions and prepare
the blossoms “my way”.
In the morning, while blossoms are in full bloom, I took
scissors out to the buckets, cut off five males leaving about an inch of stem
on each, pinched out the centerpieces and threw them away. Took the flowers into
the kitchen and refrigerated the blossoms until I was ready to eat.
I beat an egg in a shallow bowl. Poured masa (fine cornmeal
for tortillas) into another bowl, seasoned it in simplicity with salt, pepper
and paprika. Sliced off small chunks of soft farmer cheese and stuffed each
flower. Dipped the flower in egg, then masa, quickly, creating a thin coating.
Next I lay each blossom gently into the hot oil. Shallow.
Frying is frying. You can deep fry them if you wish, but a little dab will do
you. About a half minute on each side and the flowers are ready to eat.
This whole thing may have been a huge mistake. Five minutes
later, I’d licked the platter clean. I hope fried squash blossoms doesn’t
become my new ice-cream. I can’t wait for morning and more open blossoms.
Fortunately blossom season is short. If I plant two more
buckets with squash seed, I might get a second season. I might get fed up. I
might get as wide as I am tall. I might.
My eyeballs? Oh, they are fine. The whites are white again. I
must have had a mild infection or an irritant of some sort. Dr. Google misdiagnosed.
I do not have malaria. I told Josue to put a hold on my casket order.
Sondra Ashton
HDN: Looking out my back door
July 23, 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment