Fiori di Zucchine Ripieni (Filled Zucchini Blossoms)

Happy New Year, and welcome to the first post of 2026 here on The Heirloom Chronicles.

Ten years ago, I was quietly sharing recipes here - family food, memories, seasons, and stories that had travelled generations and continents before landing in my kitchen. My first post, though, actually went live in 2014. I had set myself the task of cooking, documenting and photographing, all while hovering nervously over that dreaded publish button.

At first, hardly anyone read those early posts. In hindsight, that was a gift. It gave me space to make mistakes, to learn, and to go back and quietly fix what I had missed, without feeling overwhelmed.

Looking back at the blog’s beginnings, I’m reminded that this space was never just about recipes. It was, and still is about preserving what could so easily be lost: everyday dishes, handwritten notes, and flavours deeply tied to people and place.

I'll admit that over time I've been reluctant to continue. Life, loss, and the weight of memory can make returning to these stories feel harder than expected.  But I've come to realise that these stories matter - they deserve to be documented, held, and shared, before they quietly slip away.

I’m deeply grateful to everyone who has followed along - whether from the very beginning or somewhere along the way. Your quiet support, shared memories, and conversations have meant more than you know. The stories continue.

After a long pause from this space due to personal loss, it felt right to return by revisiting one of my earliest recipes from 2014 and gently bringing it forward to 2026. That stretch of time feels strange to write. So much has changed. I’ve kept the original photos, though, as a reminder of where it all began.

This humble recipe is one I still hold close - a simpler, almost “poor” version of what is now the more common ricotta-filled fiori di zucchine ripieni. This is how my maternal nonna Carmela, made them.

My parents’ vegetable garden is no longer what it once was. With Papa now in care, gardening is no longer part of his days. Mamma, at 87, though physically limited, still insists on keeping a few vegetables growing — a handful of herbs, some tomato plants, and one or two zucchini plants. Where there was once abundance, there is now intention.

My everyday cooking has always been simple — guided by feel and familiarity rather than strict measurements, much like the women before me. Nonna filled her zucchini blossoms with what was on hand: fresh breadcrumbs, plenty of parsley, garlic, anchovies, and good olive oil. These were the ingredients readily available in the paese.

The Sicilian or more modern version leans toward a ricotta filling, but both have their place. Either way, they’re irresistible — because really, anything fried usually is!

Fiori di Zucchine Ripieni (Filled Zucchini Blossoms)
This recipe makes 10 filled flowers.

Ingredients:

• 10 zucchini flowers
• 3 slices of fresh white bread (remove crust)
• 6 anchovies
• 1 clove of garlic
• bunch of parsley (quantity to taste)
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 cup of plain flour
• pinch of salt
• water or beer for batter
• vegetable oil for shallow frying

Holding a zucchini flower, use your fingers to gently make a split in the flower and snap off the yellow stamen in the centre.  Repeat with remaining flowers.
In the food processor, add 3 slices of fresh white bread crumb without the crust, 6 anchovies, 1 clove of garlic, as much parsley to your liking, and 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Process until fine and moist. Spoon a teaspoonful at a time in the centre of the flower until filled, then twist petal ends to enclose.

This is a very simple batter that my nonna would use, that consists of just 1 cup of plain flour, a pinch of salt, adding water while whisking until smooth and not too thick in consistency.  You can replace the water with a light beer for a beer batter.

Line a tray with paper towels.  Half fill a shallow fry pan with vegetable oil, then heat over a medium heat. Working in small batches, dip flowers in batter, allowing excess to drain off, then shallow fry for 2 minutes on either side or until lightly golden.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer to tray.  Repeat with remaining flowers and batter.  They are lovely eaten warm as part of an antipasto. 

Enjoy!

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